.

You keep telling yourself that eventually, you'll hate yourself enough to change.

But that never happens.

And then you're stuck wondering if that's really such a bad thing at all.

Ah

Well, I haven't posted in awhile...

That's all I have to say about that.

I've gotten some notices that my comments don't work on this blog. At first I tried to fix it, because I wanted to hear what people had to say, if anything. But then I thought, maybe it was better this way.

I created this blog simply to vent. I'm not trying to sway or entice people with eloquence. Nor am I looking to profit from this blog in any way. I just wanted to vent.

But no one can comment. So, it gives off the impression that no one is reading this blog. And yet I'm putting it out there for the world to read. A coward's recluse. I can say whatever I want about whatever I want, and you can't comment about it. nyah-nyah.

Lemme just say, I have a real problem with emos. Seriously, who the hell do you think you are to call yourself more emotional than someone else? Wimpy red marks on your arm doesn't mean shit. Everyone knows if you display your cuts, your just as fake as your intents. So cover up and do something real with yourself. Anyway, because of my hatred of emos, I'm also stuck with an inability to talk about my feelings...

...because it makes me, in turn, feel emo.

But I'm not. Lemme say, as well, that I've had a good life. I've suffered no trauma in my life *knocks on wood* and I'm very grateful for that. And the problems I have aren't big or damaging or anything of the sort. But they are there. And I suppose, since they won't go away, they mean something to me.

These are the kind of problems that everyone has. The kind that you oh so casually slip into a joke while talking to your best friend. You slip in that little subtle and kinda funny problem to your bestie, with half of you praying they don't notice and the other half praying that they give you that look that tells you they understand.

Because you don't want to be a burden. And you don't want to be considered emo. You just want...something. Some kind of recognition from anyone. You don't want pity, you don't want advice. Because advice doesn't help. It's words from someone else, who can't empathize no matter how much they want to think they can. You just want a look. You just want someone to know. Guilty pleasures, or something.

I feel undeserving. That's all I have to say. And you can't comment about it. Nyah-nyah.

Please Tweet my Yahoo with your Google

So...let's talk about online dating. Why? Because it intrigues me so. That's why. And you'll listen to what I have to say. Or you want. And that's okay too. Because I'm serioulsy just scribing my ponderings. I don't have any real say on the matter...just thoughts. And thoughts are all you care about, aren't they? Especially my thoughts...because they're awesome. Right? No, I kid. They're fairly lame. But I hope they're at least mildly entertaining. Where was I? Oh yeah:

Online dating.

Can/could/would/should you date someone online? Is there any real difference from e-relationships versus dating sites if they're both honest? I saw statistics for one dating site that said last year they had over 100,000 marriages from users of their site. Isn't that intense?

How does that happen?

Personally, I find it very hard to be super personal online. Yeah, it should be easier because I don't technically know the person so there's no harm done. And I hear that most people are much more intimate with their IM chat boxes than they are in real life. Because no one is judging them. At least, you can't see them judging you. Ah, don't the blind have it so good sometimes? Just like the IMers.

But also, there are total creepers on the net. And yeah, you think "Oh, it's not gonna happen to me." It totes could, guys. It could. I've been thinking about how much info I really give out to people on the net and if someone really wanted to, they could find me easily. That's just scary when you think about it. I'd like to think I'm a good judge of character but you never really know online.

So how do people progress so far with that knowledge? I am aware, of course that legit dating sites are very thorough in their pages so most of those people are who they say they are. And they're looking for love, and it's sweet. But I know a lot of people that don't meet on dating sites. They simply meet online. And how can you do that? How can you be that intimate with someone?

What if you never meet? Do you e-kiss and e-hug? Do you sign on at certain times to see each other? Is that really enough to constitute a real relationship? I suppose it's not really my opinion to say. What if you really fall in love with someone online...and find out they're not who they say they are? Do you still love them, regardless?

I don't know. My thoughts are that the cons far outweigh the pros. But, I'm a fairly paranoid person. Who knows. I am currently out of thoughts on this matter. :D

PostSecret is so good it's bad.

I wish I could tell you how special you are to me, without you constantly trying to save the situation.

Know what you should do?

You should read "Silver Water" by Amy Bloom. It's really short, guys, but brilliant. It's pretty much the best short story I've ever read. Yep, that's what you should do.

Conflicted

Have you ever really thought about the thoughts in your head? Like, tried to sort them or put them into words? It's really hard. Because some of the things I think, I would never ever say...ever. And then I have this blog, right? And people have blogs (or at least some do) to get things off of their chest. Things that they're really feeling. Because they can't tell it to someone in person. Because if they do, they're emo, or have no right to say such things.

And it's embarrassing, right? We, as Americans, don't know how to handle feelings with each other. We've got to be happy so that others can be happy...even if we're not happy and others aren't happy. Seriously, tis a cultural thing. You go to Russia and best friends (even male) walk arm in arm. And toasts at dinners are long and sincere. And no one laughs. No one is awkward or uncomfortable. Why is it so hard to be open?

I mean, hell, what if I had a problem I just wanted to write down? What if I wrote...a poem or something (LOL) and wanted to share it with the world? But I was too scared. See, even that inserted paranthetical back there, unnecessarily adding humor to lighten the fact that I might write poems. I really don't, unless required, but do you see what I mean? Am I making sense?

50% or something of jokes told daily have some truth to them. So if your friend is like, "Oh, yeah, I totally hate my mom sometimes, LOL" they could seriously be telling the truth. And how sad is that that they can't share it with someone? Not to mention the receiver of such knowledge. We are so ill-equipped to handle something like that. What do you say if someone tells you heavy shit? "Oh...I'm sorry, bro. I dunno."

Maybe not. Maybe you have eloquence or can even relate on some level to some people's problems. In my case: I don't. I can't relate to people on a lot of things. I don't know what to say. And if I did know what to say, I might not say it, because it might be the wrong thing for the person I'm trying to help. But should I try anyway? Do people just want someone to listen, or some advice as well?

I guess it varies.

But, for example: if I wanted to post some of my innermost feelings on here, I couldn't. Why? Because I know at least two people semi-personally who read this blog. And therefore, I can't. I mean, I could, but I won't

And a friend just came over to give me pasta. The thought process is broken.

Quick, someone's looking! Detach yourselves!

On my way to class today, I decided to conduct an experiment of sorts. I decided to count the number of people with their music in or their phone out. Of course, I thought of this when I was already halfway to class. But I started counting anyway and counted 36 people with either/and/or device out. Not too bad, right? Well, consider the fact that I walked about 50 feet. Now, on the way back I did pay attention. I counted 74. 74 people had detached themselves with an electronic device.

Why?

I personally think it's because everyone is super self-conscious. Honestly. Seriously, you don't want to have to deal with people looking, so you tune yourself out. That way, your pretty little self image doesn't get hurt. Is that really self conscious? Or is that egotistical, to think that people are actually looking at you and making judgments. I'm not saying that they aren't, but as my super, super wise grandmother says: "I like to think that we think that people think about us more than they really do."

She also says this: "Everyone's a little queer but me and thee. And sometimes I worry about thee." (profit from that and you die, bitches!)

Yeah, she'll put you in your place, all right. But seriously, what is with this new fad? Oh, sure, you can tell me that you like to zone out when you walk. It's really relaxing and blah-dee-freakin-blah. You know what else it is? It's also really fucking rude. Seriously. "Oh, I'm holier than thou. See these earbuds? This means I don't want anything to do with you." Hey, your buddy called your name back there, guess you didn't hear it. You were too busy making sure that everyone knew that you were cool. You had music! And! you were checking your text messages!

Do you see that, world?! Someone talked to me! This is me responding! I have FRIENDS!

Please, just proceed to your corner and cry like the rest of the brave people in the world. That's right, I said brave. BRAVE! Because they let it all hang out. They walk without music and without phones. They look at the trees and get lost in their own thoughts rather than your crappy, repetative music. And yeah, maybe when they go home they're a little bit saddened by something or other, but they handle it how people should handle it (i.e. they handle it). They don't act like nothing exists with their petty little pretentious efforts of social acceptance. No, they walk to class. Because after all, aren't you just walking to class?

And if you disagree, let me ask you this: Were you doing this three plus years ago? Were you walking around with earbuds and constantly checking your cell phone (you didn't get a text, by the way) long before anyone else was? You probably weren't. Know why? Because you're a follower. And Ifeel sorry for you.

Still disagree? Let me know.

привет!

Look at that Russian up there. Woo! It means 'Hi.' I'm practically fluent, guys. No, not really. I'm just really bored before class. Can you guess which class is next? I bet you can, you smart people you. I like Russian a lot. It's so much easier than one would think. Then again, our professor is awesome. He always makes the class enjoyable. Make note of that, aspiring teachers.

Now, on a completely random note: Why doesn't anyone like the movie 'Slither?' Seriously, it's so funny! But everyone's like "It's gross." Well, in response to that I say, look at the title. Excuse me while I slam my head against this brick wall. Do people honestly think at all before they open their mouths? (And before you make snide little comments to yourself, I am guilty as charged, pard). But for serious, you should watch it. Because Nathan's in it and he has a hick accent, and it's adorable. Oh, hey! Speaking of, I totes bought the Collector's Edition of Serenity the other day. Tis awesome and yes, that burning feeling behind your eyes? It's jealousy. Or maybe you should get some sleep. I don't know. A doctor, I am not.

Semi-speakin of! This dude tried to psychoanalyze me over AIM the other day. He's like "I'm looking at this from a purely psychological point of view" and I'm like, "You dropped out of your freshman year of college."

Seriously, who does the dude think he is? I'd understand it more if I actually knew this person but come on. You don't know me. I'm all...deep and shit. Or I'm not. Point is: you don't know. And if you're reading this, random AIMer, yes, I'm still mad.

I wanna do something, but then I don't. But then, I need to actually go to class in six minutes. Either way, I've lost myself again in this quagmire of words. (spewing with eloquence, no doubt). And I'ma leave. Laters.

How many flies does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Two! But don't ask me how they got in there

Hey

So, I'm sitting here, totally not wanting to go to Astronomy, because it's way the flip over there *points* and I'm here *gestures* and I just don't want to. But I will, eventually. Until that time, I shall post a meaningless bloggymajig!

I feel like I should put some kind of disclaimer on here.

1: Don't listen to me.

Seriously, anyone that can read on a second grade level and above knows that my 'arguments' are flawed. Why? Because they're not really arguments, guys. This is my rant! Do you feel it's fury, because it's there. Fo shiz, up the spout (you should so know what movie that's from). Anyway, yeah, don't listen to me. Don't take anything I have to say into consideration because, hey, I'm super flawed in everything. I don't like to write arguments, because I fail at them. Because I'm a hypocrite. To quote fiction: Let he who is without sin blah blah blah.

Anywho, yeah, there's that. I just felt like I should put it out there. Because I don't want people thinking that I think that I'm some sort of generation arugumentation badass. Tis just not so. I'm sure you knew that just by reading, but I just wanted to make sure. Because, I'm so...freakin...kind. :P

Oh! and hey, look at what I did! Look around you and see the color! Because I did that. It was hard, too, for the technological failure. It doesn't look half bad, methinks. I did have a little Australian tech support though, which I am grateful for. Who doesn't want to be Australians? Seriously. Well, if you want to be one, too bad! Because that have quite the angry immigration laws, I hear. Anyfreakinway, I'm done here. And I pity the fool that reads through all of this, haha. Word salad to the max.

"Follow Me" and everything is alright...or is it?

So, I'm sitting here, completely in denial about the fact that I'm addicted to the computer and I look over at an ad. The ad has the Red M&M on it and the caption says "Follow Red on Twitter."

Now, take a moment to let that sink in.

Follow the Red M&M on Twitter. Did we all take shrooms? Are M&M's alive and no one told me? Last time I checked, sober, M&M's weren't alive. And yet we're supposed to follow them on Twitter? Seriously? I can't handle it. That was the M&M on the cake, so to speak. Twitter has got to stop, methinks. Honestly, who cares? Who really cares? Yes, I have a blog but as I've stated, it's just for rants. Yes, I totally plugged my blog on my FF account. But do I expect everyone to hang on my every word? To agree with everything I'm saying and laugh along with me and smile and cry and all that jazz with me? No! I just want someone to look at the thing. And hey, if they never come back, no skin off of my nose. If no one ever looks at this blog ever, I'm pretty sure I'll get over it. In fact, I am.

Back to Twitter. What do you think you would do if someone came up to you on the street and asked to "Follow you?" Would accept that? Or would you call the cops. If you had any sense at all, you'd call the cops. And yet loads and loads of people are following each other one Twitter.

Follow.

What a wonderful choice of word. A bunch of followers, this society is. Now, I'm not going to lie: I do my share of following. I wear clothes (none of them but the Chucks on my feet are name brand, but I wear them.) I buy brand name shampoo because it makes my hair soft and smell good and I buy name brand food because I sometimes don't trust store brand. And, of course, I have many more following downfalls. But to hang on someone's 150 character plus "tweet?" I would never allow myself to stoop so low. If I wanted to know what someone had to say, I'd send them an email, letter, phone call, text, not check their Twitter. You know why? Because I care. Maybe not enough. Maybe not as much as I should. But I can definitely say that I'm being less lazy than those who check someone's tweet. Not to mention, the Tweets that I've seen are beyond boring.

"Just took a dump"

"Work was killer!"

"Breakfast, work, gym"

"I'm having a miscarriage during my meeting! Sure saves on abortion!"

Okay, so the last one isn't boring, but that was a legitimate tweet, albeit paraphrased by me. I mean, what has our society come to that we're so narcissistic to post things like that? Do you honestly think I care about that? Even when I ask you personally "Hey, what are you up to?" Do I really care or am I making conversation? I'd like to say that I really cared. But usually, I don't. And I think most people are the same way.

Now, that offers a counter argument: Are we narcissistic in the fact that we don't care? In the fact that we only ask what someone's up to if we have ulterior motives with them?

On another note: What's the big deal with being famous nowadays? Hey, I'd love the money too, but I'm being realistic. But no, everyone has to have a famous blog/vlog, everyone has to get their hit song out. Fame, fame, fame. It's all just flying over my head and I feel like...I don't know. I feel angered. Can ya tell? Anywho...rant over.

Umm...

I feel like I may have done something wrong here, with the title. But, I can't be bothered to fix it. Tis only a title after all. Here's an interesting question to pose: Are blogs merely for those that are conceited?

I mean, really, doesn't every reader ever thrive on my every word...ever? Or is that beside the point? Is it courageous or something to post what you feel for the world to see? Is it a cry for help? "Oh, please read and comment so I know that someone out there hears my screams of anguish!?" (I really am too good at angst.) /wrist.

Anywho, I thought I'd start a blog. No clue if I'll remember this tomorrow or not. And hey, you know what? You can totes read it if you want to. But you know what else? You totes don't have to. And I think that's the point of a blog, maybe. A blog is for the blogger. At least, that's how it should be, in my opinion. So, this might not even be a blog. I might just rant (then again, maybe it's a perfect example of a blog.)

But I feel like I have to write more original works. Lately it's just copied stuff. Granted, I do try my hardest to make it my own and I know that in the long run it will help me as a writer. No shame at all in re-writing what's already been written, right? As long as you make it your own? As long as you make it something? Speaking of, ever read geophf's blog? Hmm...consider it. I would post a link, but I'm pretty well a technological failure.

So, this blog will probably be for ranting, or for me to post lame jokes. Like right now. Ready? Are you watching? Because it's totes happening right...now:

Why is Edward Cullen so pale?
Because there are no lights in the closet!

(Yeah he is!)