Wednesday 21 September 2011
Another Week
Living without the Internet means I have a limited time to do words here. Also it means I end up feeling lost and lonely at every opportune moment. Whenever I hit a period of relative boredom, my default setting is to fire up Facebook and stare longingly at it to amuse me. However, without the option of a worldwide distraction and the time limit of a fruit fly in a cemetery, I'm feeling hard pushed to say anything of relevance now, despite wanting to fill this out a bit. Oh well, if you want, you can imagine this page is full, although this sort of length is probably more desirable. Anyway, yeah, done now, leave me alone for another week. Hopefully I'll have my own access by then.
Wednesday 14 September 2011
Crying Out For Attention
Trying to stick to a schedule is difficult, especially when you haven't even started it yet. In my pursuit of wanting to make this place buzzing and constant and other words I can't be bothered to pull out of my head right now, I've decided to do something on here every Wednesday in an attempt at being regular with my "work". The fact that I decided to do this last Wednesday, however, seems pretty redundant. Even now it doesn't feel right, but that's mostly because I don't have much to throw down here. And since it's been months (probably) since my last lot of something-or-other on this thing, I technically should have a lot to ramble about. Just reading all of that back I can already tell this is going absolutely nowhere and lacking in stupidity and obscure references to one-hit wonders of the 80s.
I suppose I can blame bad moods for this. For longer than I can even begin to think to care about I've been feeling down. Not over anything in particular, just one minuscule unimportant hiccup after another minuscule unimportant hiccup until all those tiny hiccups become one massive belch accompanied by projectile vomit that's got blood in it. Screw the last straw breaking the camel's back, I've suffered the final hiccup to make me hurl. Naturally, I assumed I was just on my period. Not a biologically menstrual one where I cry, eat chocolate and am not allowed to go swimming for five days, but a general crap mood that's brought on by nothing in particular, makes me angry and irate for reasons too pathetic to even remember and subsequently passes after I've watched a movie in bed whilst wearing comfy pyjamas.
It's a good thing that I didn't add to this during such a time, otherwise you would've been subjected to attempts at subtly crying out for attention, shorter sentences, and direct quotes from songs by Alanis Morissette or someone whilst I try to scratch my own face off. Of course you wouldn't be able to see the face-scratchy-off-ness, therefore would not know about it, unless I included it in a short sentence where subtly try to tell you there's something wrong with me. There is something wrong with me anyway, but that's beside the point.
On the plus side, it would've gotten me closer to my 100th post (which, knowing me, I'll probably just give up entirely once I hit that), and I'd much rather get to 100 posts on here before I hit 100 tweets on Twitter. My current tweetage stands firm at 73. So far this one's winning, but then again, this one's been going for two-and-a-half years, whereas my Twit speck has been active for two-and-a-half months and it's already coming up fast on the outside. I pledge to make it to 100 here first though. And if I don't, whoever bothers to notice this gets to point and laugh derisively at me in the street if you can find me. Now if that's not a call for attention (for readers, even) then I don't know what is.
I suppose I can blame bad moods for this. For longer than I can even begin to think to care about I've been feeling down. Not over anything in particular, just one minuscule unimportant hiccup after another minuscule unimportant hiccup until all those tiny hiccups become one massive belch accompanied by projectile vomit that's got blood in it. Screw the last straw breaking the camel's back, I've suffered the final hiccup to make me hurl. Naturally, I assumed I was just on my period. Not a biologically menstrual one where I cry, eat chocolate and am not allowed to go swimming for five days, but a general crap mood that's brought on by nothing in particular, makes me angry and irate for reasons too pathetic to even remember and subsequently passes after I've watched a movie in bed whilst wearing comfy pyjamas.
It's a good thing that I didn't add to this during such a time, otherwise you would've been subjected to attempts at subtly crying out for attention, shorter sentences, and direct quotes from songs by Alanis Morissette or someone whilst I try to scratch my own face off. Of course you wouldn't be able to see the face-scratchy-off-ness, therefore would not know about it, unless I included it in a short sentence where subtly try to tell you there's something wrong with me. There is something wrong with me anyway, but that's beside the point.
On the plus side, it would've gotten me closer to my 100th post (which, knowing me, I'll probably just give up entirely once I hit that), and I'd much rather get to 100 posts on here before I hit 100 tweets on Twitter. My current tweetage stands firm at 73. So far this one's winning, but then again, this one's been going for two-and-a-half years, whereas my Twit speck has been active for two-and-a-half months and it's already coming up fast on the outside. I pledge to make it to 100 here first though. And if I don't, whoever bothers to notice this gets to point and laugh derisively at me in the street if you can find me. Now if that's not a call for attention (for readers, even) then I don't know what is.
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