I dont feel like writing anything today, because I honestly dont have the mental stamina to create anything meaninful or significant to me, or anybody who will ever read this. –Also, because I had a wonderful conversation this evening that pretty much got everything out in free-form. Sorry.

Night.

Also, it looks as tho I’m keeping my keeping my promise of blogging/journaling/documenting this T.I.-esque road to recovery. –At least I didn’t fall off the horse on day 2.

So what do people write in these things? I don’t know if I’m completely comfortable divulging ALL of my thoughts and ideas for the viewing public (thats what the book is for, so at least I get compensation for humiliating myself) I’m finding this entire blogging process reminds me of xanga. Do you remember that? There was a time when the internet yearned for social interaction beyond the AOL chat-rooms, and AIM conversations, and we were left to create xanga profiles. A log of your daily thoughts or activities. Your public persona, the identity that you create for the world to see. When I was at the ripe age of 15, you weren’t cool unless you had a xanga. –To be honest, the entire xanga phenomenon was so intense that someone from my highschool, after years of thrilling stories about the mall, and elitist, high school asshole gossip, hacked into my xanga account and dismantled/defaced it. What a sad day.

–This was the pre-facebook era. The pre-myspace era. The pre-Twitter era. The pre-…..WORDPRESS era.

What a strange concept. Do you realize that our generation (yes..the 20-somethings reading this) is the generation that witnessed the birth of Facebook? I know it seems kind of trivial now, but I bet when human-kind (or robot kind I suppose) looks back years from now to the creation of social networking utilities — We were the guinea pigs that made it cool to “update statuses”, post pictures, and ultimately create an entire online log of human existence. I’ve always wondered, what will happen when we all die? Will our profile, and the pictures of us funneling beers on the emerald coasts of Florida be forever enshrined in these digital museums? I sure hope not. Otherwise the many generations that come after us will think we were a group of sexually charged, materialistic, self loathing, cry-baby, fools who spent time taking pictures of themselves {in most cases} drowning themselves with alcohol or doting over their significant others and their travels. –You know, like, when you think of cavemen… from what we know about them, you probably think of a bunch of hair covered idiots in a cave somewhere hitting rocks together to make fire.

Just think how “they” (our offspring’s, offspring’s, offspring) ..or the machines, will think about us as a collective society. Terrible.

If you can’t already tell, my sober mind is so scattered and full of energy. I constantly jump from one topic to another, its like ultra-ADD. I originally got on here to write about what a “spiritual moment” feels like to me, and how certain places can give me a plethora of deep feelings. Coulda’ been complete bullshit, but then again… maybe not. I’ll try that next time if I don’t have anything free-flowing from my consciousness. I like this whole idea of letting my mind bleed out through my fingers though, I think I will continue it. It feels good. –By the way, I really love that I just wrote “letting my mind bleed our through my fingers” …what great imagery.

Readers, (–which I even doubt there are any of you at this point in time) if you wanted to hear about my day it was pretty normal I suppose.

–I woke. I got on computer. I showered. I made bed and picked up room. I ate chicken. I put on work clothes. I went to work. I met lots of strangers, none of which the least bit interesting. I found myself strangely attracted to one of my co-workers today, and it was going both ways. Not that this will ever go anywhere, because it wont, because I don’t care enough about anybody but myself at this juncture in my life. (yet this interaction was the most memorable part of my day) weird. super weird. Then I walked outside into the frozen tundra this evening. I rode home. I argued with my mother over monetary issues. I walked upstairs. and…here I am now.

ps) boredom is an emotion built into humans as a mechanism to facilitate the cycle of human existence.. cycle as in something that has a beginning/end… or something that will re-start. Whatever way you want to look at it.

Goodnight.

–I guess this is a new year. Time to do what I said, I guess. Damn, thats gonna be hard. No alcohol, weed, tobacco, AND I have to exercise… Shit. What a daunting task. Maybe I’ll just do it later, or cut a few things out over time. Yeah… thats what I’ll do. Mannn, nah, what a pussy! I’m gonna do it for real. Remember everybody’s response to what I said? “Good luck man.., yeah right.., ill believe it when I see it..” I don’t want to be predictable. Fuck Them. I’ll do it just out of spite.–

While swimming in this current of thought, I also happened to drift upon the idea to actually work on some type of book. I know it’s a bit far-fetched to think that I could have published creative writing out there for the masses to consume, or at least some melodramatic 20-year-old to read while sipping his overpriced latte. –I think this blog will be part of that, as a freeform tool to help me focus my writing, and stay writing.  I’m going to continue to use this WordPress thing. –Kind of strange really since I just finished watching “The Butterfly Effect” and there’s a pretty strong correlation to journaling.

There’s really no better time than now. I’m sure as hell not happy waiting tables for money. Maybe I should put all those hours of incessant writing that helped to earn that “creative writing” moniker on my so-far worthless diploma to use. I do believe I have the proper tools for the job, at least I hope so. What do I have to lose?

They should call today “Hangover Fest” instead of “New Years Day”. All I did was sit around, eat a lot of fast food, and yearn for the moment that my headache would dissipate.

Speaking of which, I don’t even really feel like writing at the moment. I only did it because I didn’t feel like backing out on my ideas, just like I’m not going to back out on my resolution. I’m not even going to read this back to edit. I don’t really care. You get the point. I’m going to sleep.

Night.