The Asterix Signifies A Typographical Error
Having a lack of motivation was once benefited these posts. I was once able to sit down and write 1000 words on the dump I took the night before because I had nothing better to do other than perhaps take another dump for more inspiration. I'll say this: my dumps no longer thrill me. Nothing thrills me. I swell with boredom, and god damn if my inability to actually get up and fucking do something about it, or do something period, hasn't proven to be my downfall. There is entertainment here in the apartment: Video games! Television! Pool table! Masturbation! Couches! Soda! Internet! Music! Walking from one area to another! Trashy magazines owned by my roommate! Exposed brick! Looking with hope into the fridge! And yet each of these things are painfully fleeting; I can spend about 10 minutes on each before I get bored with it and need to move on. I can't really get excited about school yet. I don't even have a major picked out yet, basically I'm coasting along in a kayak of regret with no goal in mind to keep me sane. So nothing has changed really from last year, except that the amount of friends I have here has decreased.
Again, all this used to be that which fed these posts. My unleashed and unshowered contempt for everything around me allowed me to pontificate for days on subjects once thought to have little significance. I had nothing better to do, might as well write words on the internet. But now I have even less to do, and I don't feel up to writing. Chock (however the fuck that's meant to be spelled) it up to taking a 3 month break from doing it, I suppose. I can't get into the groove yet. I have nothing to write about. I'm bored with myself and think everything I could potentially write is dumb. I should be doing something else. Go out. Make friends. See sights. Get exercize. Eat right. Do well in school. Quit wasting your life, someone would be more than willing to take your place, you ingrate. But it's funny how the lack of motivation itself is a catalyst for my lack of motivation. I've predetermined that I have nothing to do, might as well live that prophecy out. I went to buy my book today for my Psychology class, and they didn't have any copies at any of the stores, not even the library. So I gave up. And that's all there is to it. Like a good little sophmore in college, I played Halo. Why? Does killing fake aliens improve my life? Will I be able to look back and say "Man, I'm glad I beat that level that one day... It was so worth it"? People create masterpieces in the time it took me to play that game. Over time, if I were to be doing something creative or productive in the time I spend watching TV, putzing around, or literally doing nothing until my brain reminds me breathing is a necessary function if I decide I want to keep on living, I could be mad kinds of prolific with all sorts of good-timey feelings floating about this tortured middle-class white boy soul of mine. Sigh. Almost makes me want to write an emo ballad, blaming all this on my father. Bastard.
So, again, nothing really has changed between this boredom I'm feeling now and the boredom I've always felt forever. Except that now even this newly discovered outlet of writing bullshit on the internet isn't inspiring me at all. It's so easy; I didn't have to think at all or try very hard. Blogging is specifically designed for the lazy man: You can fucking post from your damned-ass cell phone for Mohammed's sake. And yet even it has become yet another TV show that I watch for 15 minutes and decide it is dumb, a decision that comes 14 minutes too late. I hope there is a swing of things that I can get into at some point, but perhaps like last year it will simply be the swing of accepting that I have nothing to do and having time pass more quickly accordingly. These are usually tireswings, I tire of them easily.
Ouch. Forget I said that.
Essentially, I need something to do. Something to get me up in the morning. Something to make me leave this apartment. Just something. A project. A class I enjoy. A friend.
A girlfriend.
I miss you.
Again, all this used to be that which fed these posts. My unleashed and unshowered contempt for everything around me allowed me to pontificate for days on subjects once thought to have little significance. I had nothing better to do, might as well write words on the internet. But now I have even less to do, and I don't feel up to writing. Chock (however the fuck that's meant to be spelled) it up to taking a 3 month break from doing it, I suppose. I can't get into the groove yet. I have nothing to write about. I'm bored with myself and think everything I could potentially write is dumb. I should be doing something else. Go out. Make friends. See sights. Get exercize. Eat right. Do well in school. Quit wasting your life, someone would be more than willing to take your place, you ingrate. But it's funny how the lack of motivation itself is a catalyst for my lack of motivation. I've predetermined that I have nothing to do, might as well live that prophecy out. I went to buy my book today for my Psychology class, and they didn't have any copies at any of the stores, not even the library. So I gave up. And that's all there is to it. Like a good little sophmore in college, I played Halo. Why? Does killing fake aliens improve my life? Will I be able to look back and say "Man, I'm glad I beat that level that one day... It was so worth it"? People create masterpieces in the time it took me to play that game. Over time, if I were to be doing something creative or productive in the time I spend watching TV, putzing around, or literally doing nothing until my brain reminds me breathing is a necessary function if I decide I want to keep on living, I could be mad kinds of prolific with all sorts of good-timey feelings floating about this tortured middle-class white boy soul of mine. Sigh. Almost makes me want to write an emo ballad, blaming all this on my father. Bastard.
So, again, nothing really has changed between this boredom I'm feeling now and the boredom I've always felt forever. Except that now even this newly discovered outlet of writing bullshit on the internet isn't inspiring me at all. It's so easy; I didn't have to think at all or try very hard. Blogging is specifically designed for the lazy man: You can fucking post from your damned-ass cell phone for Mohammed's sake. And yet even it has become yet another TV show that I watch for 15 minutes and decide it is dumb, a decision that comes 14 minutes too late. I hope there is a swing of things that I can get into at some point, but perhaps like last year it will simply be the swing of accepting that I have nothing to do and having time pass more quickly accordingly. These are usually tireswings, I tire of them easily.
Ouch. Forget I said that.
Essentially, I need something to do. Something to get me up in the morning. Something to make me leave this apartment. Just something. A project. A class I enjoy. A friend.
A girlfriend.
I miss you.
posted by MC Harv at 4:19 PM
10 Comments:
Glad you picked up on a keyword in my little diatribe there, you cyber-robot-ass!
Chin up babe, and thanks for the kind-of-shout-out. I miss you, too.
--Eva
Lately I've been really getting into those yo-yos that return automatically when you drop them. Maybe you could try that?
I've never been a yo-yo man, but I could give it a shot. If it returns automatically, then hells to the yes, because then it seems like I suck less at it.
awww, Jack.
I can tolerate your depression cuz you're so damn sweet about it. Also, nobody else can write a thousand words about being depressed that I actually want to read.
If I had a joke, I'd tell it, but I got nothin.
This is normally where I would insert a picture of me dancing with my butt out, but nobody wants to see that.
I don't know what to tell you, Jack. I guess make a band is all I can think of. That's what I'm trying to do to stave off a similar situation.
-Thomas
I'm trying: Me + Colin + drum machine = rock.
There's your fucking new math, bitches!
I don't know, if you're depressed, then country music seems more appropriate somehow...
No, it'd wind up being about talking alcohol or my schizo sister-in-law or something.
You do have both.
Hey, why don't you instigate a capture the flag game ala Minneap' down there? Your campus is pretty ideal for it.
-Thomas
Post a Comment
<< Home