The answer isn't nothing, but everything.

It happens every year when you realize you don't know what the fuck you're doing. You watch everyone around you go through this, which makes you think...who the fuck are these people and why aren't they doing an-y-thing?
It happens when you start getting critical. Being a critical being is essential for progress, growth and all of that, so you do it. You start looking at your life in layers and peeling off each one at a time for serious analysis. Sometimes you take certain layers and eradicate them entirely from your life because you realize how pointless that layer was...like a disgusting lemon curd filling in a cake that you would never eat. It's good getting rid of layers. A spring cleaning of sorts. Out with the old nonsense and in with the better aspects of life that you've been depriving yourself of for so long.
It happens when you get bored. There isn't a single human that enjoys being bored. Instead of turning to the trusty television that's at least half your weight, you do something that legitimately makes you happy. It's what creative people call producing something. You do something and then you do another thing and soon an addiction for knowledge and sharing develops.
It happens when you think "what if everyone acted in this way?". Before every action and word that you churn out into the world, you absolutely must remember that you are responsible for yourself and mankind for that matter. Is it cocky trying to obtain the status of God? Would God be totally pissed if he did exist and knew that you were plotting to take his role in the universe? Is God even a dude?

The act of deeply and honestly existing from the inside-out.

We look at each other in the eye, and it's no use.

I like to see the crackle, the burnouts, the imperfections that make what's in eye line perfect. Originals are what I choose to accept and interpret, nothing else. Why analyze something if it's not in it's original form? Would that not make it a lie? Sure it could look the same at first glance, but there will always be alterations and a perception of something that is false.

It's understandable to create something and almost want to keep it for your eyes only. That way not a single being can question or alter your motives. It's rather silly to realize that once something created is shared, the audience immediately construes this unwarranted superiority over the creator. I wonder if the audience realizes that the creator floats on unaffected. The creator goes unaffected by sense of self. They know exactly who they are, what they like and have the knowledge to express it to a countless population.

"Not bad", I say. "Here, here" oh grand master of artistry. We're not worthy.

This Music Is Cool As Fuck

It's comfortable. Yeah, real comfortable. There are so many people here at this hour, which is approximately 6:30pm, and I'm okay with it. At least I'm the one doing most of the starring.

My coffee is almost gone and the side order of water is warm. I haven't even begun writing. Looks like I'm in for a shit night. Could be worse, though. I could be back at my apartment hanging out with my horrifying, soon to be EX- Landloard. God damn, is she something strange to look at.

I originally came to this coffee shop in hopes of finishing my resume and apply for Administrative Assistant jobs. Very professional, I know. When I go in for my interview, I'm going to wear a tight blue dress to "wow" my soon to be 45 year old boss. He's going to fucking love it. I won't mind it so much either, I never really get to dress up much due to this dog walking gig I've got "going for myself".

I've already gotten sidetracked. That's how interested I am in writing, currently. I am willing to check my e-mail, download a Mediafire link that will ultimately fail me, and check show times for what movies are playing at that shitty AMC on Western. Let's get back into it, shall we?

So, most important matter at hand is that I'm moving, officially, THIS Sunday and never looking back. This 3rd floor apartment is literally two blocks away, south on California... I really stepped out of my comfort zone with this move. BIG changes everybody. Except I'm not being sarcastic. Living with two female peers instead of roommates who may as well be dead? It's going to be a turning point in my life. I'm not hinting that I'm going to turn into some sick lesbian or something, no, I could just really use more girls as friends. At times I wonder if I have any real girlfriends. A couple, but in terms of logic, I should never associate with those of the female kind...their brains are weird 50% of the time. This is what I tell myself during hours of reflection I periodically have. I'd like to be a feminist someday.

Back to where I started, though. I come to my neighborhood coffee shop because it actually convinces my conscious that I have a spot in this neighborhood that I've lived in for what seems forever...or at least any part of my time here in Chicago that has been worthwhile. Or MAYBE I'm just coming here this week to relax and use the wi-fi? That's probably what it is. I can't believe I would place such sentiment in something so stupid at the feeling of nostalgia. I'm being productive as hell, I'll tell you that much. Doesn't matter two shits which one of these reasons sparked my writing interest. I've never been consistent, and I don't plan on being now. I'll write when I want to write and I'll tell you what ever excuse I feel because in the end I just want to amuse myself. Thanks for reading, you lovely waste of time.

My blog has schizophrenia

Perhaps, it is I who is consistently inconsistent. Who even knows anymore. Next update will be a REAL post....one that I'm not entirely embarrassed to re-read. It shall be based off of "The Unbearable Lightness of Being"....I'm feeling inspired again.

Until then, some bits I felt like sharing...Enjoy.

Affinity for many sorts of nonsense

I'm almost positive it's impossible to meet or already know someone who understands what it is to be consistent. If I could have just one person in my life that had the slightest grasp on their own persona that would be great. If you happen to know or meet someone of this sort, please...I'm begging you...let me know. I'd kill for a person to trust, again.

If I could stop having small expectations for the human race I'd be making out just fine, huh? Yeah, you're right. Damnit. You win again society...you always do.

You're killing me, Smalls!

"You ain't never gonna be able to do it kid. Even if this were your final wish before death, you'd never be capable of doing it without any support. Sorry kid, better start looking for something else to dream about."
"Why can't I! It's just not fair. I don't want anything else in life. Just once is all I would need. ONCE."

"You got the guts, kid...but you're short as fuck. I'm sorry. You will never be able to dunk."

I was without weather

I woke up without weather. Nothing mattered or sparked my interest. Some funny things happened and I laughed for a little bit, but I didn't feel any sort of emotion. The people all looked and acted the same. Music makes me happy and I couldn't even hear it today. I recall it playing at some point, but I just couldn't hear it. It's the worst when you know people are trying to get a reaction from you and every response is utterly lack-luster. Complete immobility took over my entire raison d'etre.