It's funny how I work. Small, meaningless things affect me. Larger, perhaps vastly more important things hardly phase me. I guess that is because I had to deal with heavy crap when I was growing up and I realize that attempting to control the larger things in life is about as idiotic as taping your dick to an outlet after taking a bath. The little things, however, you can change and you do have full control over. So, it should come as no shock that in the silence of this dark room with Niels sleeping that it is now that my anger and sadness rises from the depths of my soul to tear my mind and heart thricefold their previous aggression. It's a nightly curse that afflicts me in all honesty: I try to act happy when I'm around company or online, but I am truthfully a sad, scared, and pissed human being. What do I have to offer, to give? To hope for? To live for? What talents do people appreciate and do I have any of them? Most of the time, the answer to these questions is a resounding no, and these thoughts and feelings are added to when I read, see, and hear the smallest of thoughts directed towards me. Not that anyone would ever really know because, like a sponge, I suck it up and appear the same.
But eventually that sponge becomes so waterlogged you can't use it anymore.
I pace around, talking to myself and ranting like a madman. It's how I relieve my stress and talk things out with myself. Tomorrow, I'll be fine and happy. If anyone bothers to read this, they may think this the tired rant of a sleep-depraved kid. Fact of the matter is that I've been up for about two hours, and this is as sane as I get.
I hate being cheery, I do. I hate being the one who HAS to look on the bright side of things. I wish I didn't have to, but if I don't point out the six good things in life, then who will? I have the same feelings and thouhts as others, but I don't get to share in the sorrows because dwelling on the negative is a one way street with no U-turns. If you don't have that one guy who can distract the police so you can make that illegal U-Turn, you'll hit a brick wall and burn up. So, I'm that guy who is distracting the police while everyone makes their slow U-turns, but just once, I'd like to be able to go hurtling towards my doom until I see an opening.
I mean, I don't think I ask alot. I really don't think I do. Some people I can't even talk to about subjects without it becomeing drama worthy, so I don't bring it up. But they certianly will for weeks afterward, as if dwelling on what has happened and just focusing on the bad qualities of the experience will help. No, it will make it worse and you know that. Look at why it happened and stop that from happening, not at the results.
Also, in case you people didn't guess it, I'm a project-oriented guy. When we got on a subject or project, I stick with it or at least try to. I don't like starting projects with the support of others, getting agreements, and then having it all vanish a few weeks later. My will to even try things was already sapped in 2005, and what little I have left is all but gone. Don't tell me you can help or you want to and then vanish into the lonely night to leave me with a half-finished project. All of the time I've wasted with half-finished projects could all have gone into writing a few novels, all things said. Instead, I try to work on fun projects that end up dying. It's to the point that I don't care about what people promise me, because I've been given enough empty promises to start my own liberal Presidency. Does anyone know how terrible it feels when you work hard on something, get stuck, ask for help, promised the help, and never receive the help? I'm sure you do. Now imagine that happens with 95% of everything you do, and then imagine that you don't want to start drama so you shut your mouth again and again. Then imagine that someone else does inferior work, gets help, finishes, and is praised.
I've stopped trying with my writing because it just doesn't matter. Even if I were to write the best South Park fan fic ever, how many people would read it? My guess is four, and I'd have to plead with them to read it.
If I were to have a novel published, how many people I know would buy it? Probably four, but only because I'd promise them parts in the sequel.
But...
If I were to write a crappy little fic that had major appeal to certain elements, how many people would read and love it? Probably a hundred, and they'd all love it.
If I had a crappy fantasy novel that was like three trillion others published, complete with elves and orcs and OMFG MAGIC, how many would I sell? A million.

Fact is, I just don't care anymore. They say a writer writes. Well, that's fucking crap. A writer doesn't write, a writer imagines and envisions and captures what he sees with the written word. Someone might be an asshole enough to say, "But he still writes!"
No, fucking idiot.
Anyone can write nowadays. A six-year old can put her fingers on the keyboard and pound out a Barbie story. She is not a writer; she is a little girl who wrote a story.
But can she capture her imagination using the written word as she sees it? No, because she isn't that capable in terms of her language usage.
So, she is not a writer.
But, does it matter? Her friends would like the story as would thirty-five year old virgin men who collect Barbies. So, this little girl will write another and another until people sytart to think, "Wow, she is a writer!".
Then, when she is eighteen, she goes to college and lives her life in some fashion that doesn't involve her writing. Was she ever a writer? No.
What was the point of this rant again? Oh yeah, I'm pissed about writing.
I mean, why should I bother? Would anyone care? If it's a fanfic, no one cares because they expect it from me. If it's an original story, no one would care as that'd require major time and effort to read. If it was a peom...it'd suck because I am terrible at poetry. But even if it was a great poem, it'd probably get stuck in the sea of poems and overshadowed by popular ones that are TEH EMO!1!

Would any of this shock me? No, but what does shock me is when I stand back and look at others and their reactions towards other people when theysay the same things I do fan fic wise. People go, 'Ehh." with me when I say my piece, but have an orgasm with others over the same topic. It really does honestly make me feel like I'm some sort of worthless wad of gum stuck to the side of someone's shoe.

I look around and I see people with good lives who need encouragement. I see people in bad situations who dwell on it. I see friends fighting and no way for it to end. I see innocent comments made in the most biting of ways.
And you know what? I damn well can't take it anymore. All I want to do is sink in a warm bath and relax, but guess what happens? The water turns cold and you prune up.
Fuck the French.




PS: Just so y'all don't worry, I do this EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. Ranting and raving when no one is around means I feel better when the day comes.