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| I should only write these at night. Well, normal
nights, not nights before I have to get up at 5am. I thought I might like
this shift, but I was wrong. It's too early for me. I'm a little down on myself these days. My basic state for the past year and a half/two years almost is depressed. I don't *think* I was always like this. But maybe. Still, I think I'm changing, for the better. Sometimes I wish I wasn't bright, so I wouldn't have to deal with my self-reflection. If I were dumb, I could just not wonder or worry about what I'm doing wrong, or how I am inside. Xeney has had similar thoughts, I think. She's more private than I am, so I can't really tell, but I just think she has self-doubt, too, and look how much I enjoy her writing. I've always thought that misery breeds great art, but this argument would hold more water were I actually WRITING anything these days. Maybe I should hole up and stop having a social life. It's not like I have that many friends I see on a regular basis anyway. Not anymore. Not here. Jeez. I'm trying to not be all self-pity and mope and I'm not doing a good job of it. Ok. Pamie and her beautiful tribute to Lillith made me sob early yesterday. Mom, don't follow that link (and don't read Xeney's entry for the 17th, either). I'm still young enough to be able to read sad cat stories; Mom can't or won't anymore. Is that the key to the wisdom of age? Just avoid/delete those things in your life that you KNOW get you down? Damn, I Just can't avoid talking about depression today, huh? Ok, well, I have a dinner-date (not a date-date) with Byron tonight - that should be good. He's usually so enthusiastic about writing projects that I almost always at least write a poem after hanging out with him. I need more writer friends. I miss Mary Anne terribly - she was such a good influence on my writing, even if I refused to admit it at the time. (Imagine the sounds of struggling and fighting as I resist the temptation to meditate on what happened here more deeply...this is not the place for such reflection, no matter how much I want to communicate this way...I'm such chicken shit). Anyhow, I should write more. I have such a great project in mind, but I do nothing. Well, that would take memory space on my computer at home, and, well, it's all but hosed. I can't save a thing; there's just no room. I need a new computer so I don't have to write my erotica on my lunch breaks at work. I need a new computer so I can have more than one application open at one time. I need a new computer so I'll write at home when I get the urge instead of dreading the time it will take to log in so I can save it through telnet (and hope it doesn't cut me off mid-sentence, therby losing all my stuff). I need a new computer, but I have a new car. Life is such a bitch that way. PS (to mom) Yes, I LOVE my car. | ||
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