so i figure that i don’t have much to post these days because it’s hard to get fired up about writing. i just don’t feel the need to express myself anymore in this media sometimes, but other times i need it for an outlet. i know other people read this, but at the same time don’t really, just looking for something to occupy a coupe of minutes before a download is finished or something, or end up here by accident looking for “masterbating sluts”. i make these thoughts public, but not really i suppose, it’s not like anyone comments on my blogs, they’re mostly for me and anyone who cares enough to pick through this crap hoping to find something insightful, which is unlikely at best.

why all the self-depreciation? is it that deeply ingrained, or does it stem from the fact that i figure people have about as short an attention span as i do, and aren’t really that interested in anything much longer than a sound bite. getting across alot with a little takes alot of skill and talent, hence people who can do it well actually write and get published or become politicians. i of course have no such aspirations, and figure that everyone else who blogs is of the same idea. most random blogs i look at are pretty mundane, but i figure most of them are younger than me as well. i remember when i sort of cared about things. it wasn’t too much different from the way things are now, because i figure that i don’t care enough in the first place to give it much thought. but the idea of not caring is such an oxymoron that i get sick of even thinking about it, there’s more important things to do like go running or read a book or simply exisiting.

my brain just got tired, something burned out in it a year ago, i can tell, but i’m not sure what it was. everything around me seemed less wonderous, not that things don’t hold wonder for me, but it just seemed like anything can happen in this world, anything. if you look around at every passing person you see, they have problems, just like you. most of them are probably worse than the problems i have, but it’s all pretty subjective.

maybe that’s what it was, being subjective as opposed to objective, being objective seems to concrete for me, while subjectiveness rules everything around me it seems like.

ob·jec·tive (b-jktv) adj.
1. Of or having to do with a material object.
2. Having actual existence or reality.
3.
a)Uninfluenced by emotions or personal prejudices: an objective critic.
b)Based on observable phenomena; presented factually: an objective appraisal.

sub·jec·tive (sb-jktv) adj.
1.
a) Proceeding from or taking place in a person’s mind rather than the external world: a subjective decision.
b) Particular to a given person; personal: subjective experience.
2. Moodily introspective.
3. Existing only in the mind; illusory.

i can see how it would be easy to confuse the two, seeing as concrete things come from perceptions of our mind, but i suppose it’s hard to be compassionate if you’re objective all the time. it seems like the two are exclusive of eachother, but everyone tries to mix them to varying degrees.

i guess i just feel that the subjective is much more powerful than the objective because i succumb to it easier. and therein lies the problem. i don’t have a goal to be objective or subjective though, so there’s gotta be something else to strive for,but i’m unsure how to label it. there has to be some medium between the two that exisits, but it’s as of yet out of my grasp.

basically i’m just motivated to try, it’s not like anything is spectacularily wrong with my life, so if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. hardship will bring flux, but creating hardship for yourself doesn’t help, it helps stagnate you even further.

i think stagnation has a bad rap, much in the same way sex does. everyone wants to do it, but it’s kinda looked down on. of course too much is bad, but then, that’s subjective, right? i just feel my life is already full and planned and going where it needs to go, but there’s always something to hurry or push you.obligations to something or someone can be powerful motivation.

dammit, i don’t even know what i’m talking about anymore, i’m just rattling down thoughts that barely make sense to me in hopes that it will make sense. most of the time when i write things down they make more sense, that’s what i think this page is for, because writing for an audience makes me feel like i hav to try and explain it to other people, which ends up being myself. this time it’s not working out very well. i just can’t seem to sort them out yet, probably because i’m forcing it. but if i don’t force it, i’m gonna have to wait for some sort of inspiration, and those are coming less and less frequently now.

i guess i feel like i know i don’t have everything figured out, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like there should have to be anything to figure out in the first place. exsisting from day to day is no way to live, but feels like the only option.

i mean, what other choices do you have besides deciding to exsist?

wow, i’m actually able to blog from my own computer for once. it’s kinda odd. even though it is dial up, and its at my parents house, it’s still on my computer for once and not some one else’s.

it’s a great feeling.

my mind is a gushing wound, and has been the past couple of days. it won’t stop with dreams it won’t stop with thoughts, it won’t stop being bitter and it won’t stop being snappy. i have no control over these things and they just happen inexpicably. i think that there is such thing as a force, some unmeasurable empthy wave that gets sent out and some people pick up on it and others don’t. it could also be because i’m stressed about finding a new job, and wrapping things up in bellingham and ending this chapter of my life.

but it’s more than that and i can feel it deep down and it makes me feel tired, angry and seeking of solitude. my brain argues with itself about things it has no control over, things that seem alright but knows that they aren’t things that there is no way to control comprehend or make sense of and the nonsensicalness of everything adds up until my brain can’t take it anymore and it needs realese, realese from everything because it’s all the same and everything i do seems non consequential unless it’s done for someone else in which case it is more of a responsibility.

the body feels light, the mind almost dragging it out from where it’s been and where it might need to go, metamorphisis in to something not necesarily better, but just something different. the scenery changes but you are left to interpret it as you see fit and nothing seems to get better or worse because you know deep down that nothing seems to get better or worse, things just are.

rhetorical questions are the name of the game. things you want to comprehend but can’t possibly, and knowing that even if you knew the answer it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference, just something to file away in the back of your brain for the time the next episode strikes and you’re wondering what the hell you’re doing, why you do it, and why it may have struck your fancy in the first place. not even expressible, forced to use a keyboard and let my mind just let off steam, let it vent things it may find important througha medium that moves faster than writing it down because i can type more words a mintues than i can awrite, and my mind moves and much faster rates than my hands can even type leaving me with something that is gibberish, but is kinda like punching a wall, just something that will relieve pressure that is coming from an unknown source. it does no good but you do it anyways because it makes you feel better at the time.

everything you hear and think is a good idea gets incorporated into how you think you see an idea and you think that that particular arrangments of words is something beyond words, it is something between the lines with things inferred and more to it than meets the eye. it helps you summarize this feeling, this inexplicable feeling of prevention of stagnation, of a mind that works too fast for its own good and has to have the brakes replaced every couple of months, and depending on how bad you let them get will determine how much trouble you have slowing down with the pressure of time having its unseen effect on you.

the stress of change gets to you weighing down on your brain but making it lighter at the same time, it is plowing paths through your mind that are not often used because there is no need for them to be used at the most mundane of times, only when you see the fire and need to break the glass to get the fire extinguisher and turn off the emergency gas line before things get out of hand and muscles start twitching involuntarily, with no seemingly right course of action to be taken in the first place, just knowing that action needs to be taken, and you will feel better if you can just do somthing because otherwise you are left with inaction and your body can’t take it and just wants to explode at the seams with all these stress creating chemical byproducts that make you body scream out to be used and manipulated for what it was intended to do but you have no idea what that was.

rich poor happy sad crazy sane complex simple strange ordinary wonderful awful close far esoteric mundane. if my life was any of these things different it would be the same. my brain is hardwired and there’s no turning back different situations create different problems but my mind would still handle them the same, the way that it thinks is most logical, eating at itself with what is prudent and logical and not even wondering if it is the best way because it is the best way that you can think of without extra input, factors you may not have considered but don’t think are important until they are.

there’s nothing to worry about though, nothing to fear, because everything turns out alright in the end. it always does. if you don’t die then you continue living, whether you like it or not and you will get by but death seems to be the only permanent and certain thing in this life, and really that doesn’t seem like it could be right either. you deal with what you can, while you can, with what you have and go from there because the things that matter are worth protecting to you and anything beyond that is pure abstraction of your existance, no matter how self-centered, self-rightous, and preachy it is.