Nobody likes to read chronologically…
…so I now changed it back to the “conventional” look, newest to oldest. I’m going to set an option eventually, though. Just you wait!
…so I now changed it back to the “conventional” look, newest to oldest. I’m going to set an option eventually, though. Just you wait!
That’s right, folks. You can tell I have lots of work to do by the site’s newly tweaked look.
Um, yeah. Enjoy.
Some mornings I wake up, and everything is wrong. Every little thing irritates me; I’m upset at everything around me. I don’t know why I get like that, but I do sometimes. I get upset at my friends for the stupidest reasons, reasons they will never know because I am too pissed off to tell them. And afterward, I will convince myself that it’s all me, that I was just in a pissy mood. There’s no need to let them know that they pissed me off for whatever reason, because I was probably just hyper-sensitive that day.
So then, I guess this is my outlet for my anger. Here goes:
Fuck you for not saving a seat for me in class the other day. Fuck you for completely ignoring me when I tried to get to you, to say “Hi!” Fuck you for leaving as soon as you saw me.
Fuck you for hearing of the results of something I thought I did okay in, and responding only by saying, “Ouch.” Fuck you for playing with my feelings, intentionally or not. Fuck you for being so nice to me one minute, and cold the next.
Fuck you for not ever doing anything right. Fuck you for wasting all my resources. Fuck you for doing the stupidest, most immature things, and having no patience whatsoever. Fuck you for being such a slob, yet being anal at the most trivial things.
Fuck you for thinking that you are my world, and that I am yours. Fuck you for responding the way you did when I showed you otherwise.
Ahem. Okay, I feel better.
I value humility. I find it a very good trait, and I try to be as humble as possible. This is, of course, a direct result of a hatred for bragging.
I hate people who brag. Those who talk of how great they are, exaggerating every little detail, annoy me quite a bit. As a result, I realize how annoying it must be to others too. So, I try to avoid bragging.
I think that my humbleness can backfire, sometimes. For instance, sometimes my sense of humor or technical skill can impress a peer or otherwise. They then proceed to brag for me. Now, this has many reasons why it is bad.
Most people, when hearing about how so-and-so is good at something-or-another, will raise their expectations even more so than if this bragging was heard from the person himself/herself. You know, this person must really be good, if he/she impressed the messenger so much that the messenger must let everyone else know! Of course, when it comes down to actually showing off this person’s abilities, this poor humble person must now exceed the bragger’s description in order to prevent from looking like a bluffer.
There is also no control over how much this person brags about deeds that you may or may not have done, leading to the same trouble aforementioned.
In addition, if the person who hears the bragging can tell that this could not possibly be true, the messenger will not be the one who is “guilty” of bragging; rather, it is the innocent bystander.
Of course, there are those who don’t necessarily brag of themselves, but exaggerate in life. Much of what they say is an exaggeration. Any new discovery is the greatest thing they’ve ever seen. Any new food they taste is the most heavenly gift from God. On the other hand, anything they do not like is extremely bad. Nothing is ever neutral. It becomes rather difficult to discern the real from the fake. Basically, anything I hear from people like this I take with a grain of salt.
The next time you see me, please don’t indulge yourselves with any bragging of any form, whether they be about yourself, me, or any inanimate objects. Thank you.
When I have my mind set on something, I have to do it until I’m satisified with the results. For example, I had recently been introduced to this game called gridlock. It was a pretty stupid game, but for some odd reason, I couldn’t really stop playing. I guess it is because I knew that there are only so many levels in the game, so I had to play it until I beat it, through and through. Eventually, I did. However, it didn’t provide me with the satisfaction I wanted, because it didn’t have an ending. Instead, it was a bug in the game—it showed the next level, but with nothing in it.
There are many instances when I just become so obsessed with a certain task that I cannot stop. Eric can testify to this. For many of the games where there are training modes and extra games that one can complete, I am often sucked into this vortex where I must play it and beat it until there is really nothing else to beat. It usually happens for a day or two, and I’m back to normal.
This doesn’t apply only to games, by the way. I’ve often obsessed over many trifle things, such as re-designing my web site, or creating a certain feature for this blog, or reading web-comics. Maybe it’s something to do with computers and such. I don’t know.
Maybe this is how it feels like to be addicted to gambling, now that I think about it. Having the need to win, to complete some project, constantly feeling that I’m so close to my goal. Except, in gambling, there is no end, whereas I can just complete whatever I needed to complete and get on with my life, marvelling at my own abilities.
This obsessiveness comes and goes. Going cold-turkey usually does it for me, to cure it. Well, I usually get some help by way of a distraction, such as school-work, or just being pulled away from it physically (for instance going home for the weekend).
This obsessiveness is very helpful, in my opinion, when it comes to my programs. I usually don’t let them rest until I honestly cannot see how to improve upon it any more. This leads to programs that usually net me lots of points. Whereas many others might just say, “Eh, it works,” and go on with their lives, I pound and pound away, figuring out ways to screw up my own program, and applying a fix.
Of course, when obsessiveness is used constructively, it is no longer obsessing, it is perfecting.
Perfectionism has always been my euphemism for my (sporatically) obsessive behavior. I sometimes just call it being anal. Maybe Freud was right; maybe I really kept it all in when I was a kid. Who knows? I had recently (within a couple of months) went to a doctor, and she told me that I didn’t go enough. She recommended that I eat more fiber to help. I had always thought that going once every few days was normal, and that going daily was strange. My dad went every day, in the morning. I know because I had to be there while I brushed my teeth, or be late. I guess he’s not anal-retentive, whereas I am. A generous guy, he is. But then, I don’t consider myself to be selfish and greedy either.
Wow, that last paragraph just went completely off-topic.
Oftentimes, my perfectionism tires me out, and I give up. Thus the many open computers in my room and/or house. I want to do something, do it half-way, and wind up giving up instead of just continuing on. I had written in one of my earlier entries about this. Thus, I get nothing done. Lowering my standards tends to get more work done.
I really can’t explain my need to restrict myself. It’s the confines where I thrive, where I love to be. I like to write HTML with XHTML Basic 1.0, I like (the idea of coding in) assembly language, I like using LaTeX to write up all those nice documents, and I like to write things in good grammar. Granted, my grammar is not the best, but I try.
I would imagine that a person who was as anal as I am would be very clean. Unfortunately, that does not seem to be the case. I am a rather messy person, and my room shows it. I cannot seem to keep a clean room for long. Only when I feel the need to impress someone do I clean it up. Well, that or when I really cannot stand it myself. Oh, and don’t forget about all those times when I desperately need to find something to procrastinate with.
Half-finished, half-finished. Everything about me is half-finished. I have lots of books lying about, with bookmarks stuck in the first few chapters. Actually, that’s about it. But there are enough books that are half-finished to warrant this paragraph.
The more I write, the more I want to write. Unfortunately, there’s only so long that I can hope to hold my audience’s attention. I suppose this would be a good place to stop.
It seems that the blogging phase of my friends is over. Maybe we’re all just too busy. Maybe we’re too lazy. Either way, nobody seems to be updating anymore, least of all I.
It’s a pity, really. Blogging is a great way for people to communicate. It is a forum for me to release my thoughts onto the world, without anyone really knowing who I am. I write what I felt, not what everyone else perceived that I felt. It’s a way to express my feelings in this world where showing true feelings can be dangerous in that particular situation.
For me, I don’t blog quite as much anymore for multiple reasons. I am busy, for one. Doing work all the time kind of sucks all the energy out, that which could formerly be used for slacking off.
Another reason I don’t blog that much is that I don’t like to write useless entries. I feel that the stuff I write about should be perfect for that one entry; I feel that I should not need to change them. To change an entry is, in essence, to change history. I felt what I wrote; I wrote what I felt. Unfortunately, sometimes in the heat of the moment, I write in a manner that portrays immense negative feelings, basically distracting the reader from concentrating on the text and having him/her focusing on my cursing and obvious lack of self-control.
I don’t write much anymore because a lot of my friends don’t write, either. When they don’t share their thoughts, it’s very difficult for me to share my (dis)agreements.
Privacy is another reason. I am concerned for my own privacy sometimes, in this increasingly hostile environment that is being created by the government. What ideas flow in my head could potentially be illegal in some states, whether they deem me unpatriotic or whatever and lock me in a cell without a key, or whatever. Not to mention I don’t know how good of an idea it is to have my boss or potential employers go through my blog. It’s funny, though; I used to view that as a weakness. In the long run, I guess it is. It’s very difficult to deal with the here-and-now, though. And so, I succumbed.
Not having much drama in my life leads to being a very boring person. Boring people do not write. (They do not write anything worthy to be read, anyhow.)
Many of the points made above are not held very dear to my heart. They just have an accumulated effect on me.
Laziness, I guess, is the ultimate reason. I mean, there are things that I still wish to discuss… but so many others have discussed it already. I don’t feel like writing about the idiotic war we’re about to have, nor the stupid government policies that have been enacted which violate human rights, citizenship, democracy, the Constitution, etc. in so many ways. They are so boring, and I do not know enough about them to discuss them anyhow.
Which leads me to another reason. Knowledge of the subject. I do not like to discuss topics or make judgements based on facts from a single source. Before I take a stand for anything, I would like to get more information, make an informed decision. Making ignorant statements is one of my pet peeves. So is taking a stand and not backing yourself up.
I guess I really do have a lot to say.
sigh, I wish I had more time to write. I really hate having all these ideas inside of me and not being able to release them. The worst part is, it really takes a while for me for my thoughts to link up to them. If I did not think of things I did not want to talk about, I wouldn’t have led myself up to things that I wanted to talk about. And that process takes time, time which I do not have or do not want to give. Time which could be spent on other things, such as due projects or whatever.
I was in the middle of setting up comments, but then I became lazy once again, and stopped. Ah, the technical challenges of setting up my own blog. Man’s greatest technical challenge: biological laziness.
These streams of consciousness are quite good. I should do so more often. Ciao now.