God. What am I doing with my fucking life? I am sitting here in a god damn Starbucks, blogging. And what am I about to write about? How conveniently and retardedly set I am. What makes me think that I am unique? I actually don't think I am unique. Maybe about as unique as a piece of shit with corn in it. Oh.. What did I eat? The only people who tell me I am special are my parents. My parents are too nice. I am the luckiest person I know. (I am not complaining about my parents. They are gems.) My dad takes care of me without question. I am 25, mind you. And my mom just likes to tell me how beautiful and creative I am. So, I mean, I guess I understand why I am such a useless pussy most of the time.
But Seriously. If you have ever read "Stuff White People Like," I am pretty much that book, or website, in a nut shell. Actually, when I picked up the book to browse it a few months ago, I almost felt sad. Am I this lame? This unoriginal that I can be so easily lumped into a category of white types that think they are special? I would like to think that it is somewhat impossible for most people my age to remain original these days. Facebook alone shoves mutual similarities down my throat everyday. And I can't help but get involved. But I know far to many people who are definitely diamonds. They are rare and interesting. I don't see myself as any of these things. I am average, average, average.
I don't really want to be shot in the face. But, I do think my life is at its peak. Its all down hill from here. When is it ever going to be this satisfying to live again? And the earth is going to shit anyways. Global warming, the threat of nuclear warfare, the economy, Miley Cyrus. Its all bad.
Earlier today I was bothered by the idea (a recurring idea quite recently) that I will not be able to find a job when I get back home. And I began to consider the idea of moving home to where my Dad lives, finding a job locally, and just shutting myself off from the world. It would be cheaper for my parents. I wouldn't feel so guilty about being useless. And my friends wouldn't be around to amplify my guilt. I could also focus on being healthier and more creative. But the idea of all of this actually coming to fruition also makes me feel shitty. Its like working toward something only to give up. I don't even know what I want to do with my life. All I know is I enjoy taking photos and writing. Perhaps I will start my own magazine. But! Oh wait, that would require some sort of cost. AND!!! There would be no pay!! AND! I am too lazy to actually do anything like that. Fuck I am lame. Slap me. Please.
2 comments:
the eternal guilt of being alive. You don't have to feel like you're anything but blessed. you have a situation that was provided for you. be spoiled because you can be. then start sucking dick all the way to the top and stop being dependent. then marry me. and I'll shit on your chest for you every evening to remind you of the low status of your existence and stop you from believing in all those delusions of grandeur
Um...I would tell you that you are unique, but that would be corny (not unlike your feces apparently - nice). If you start a mag, you can count me in as a freelance writer who will write for free, and if it is a porn mag I will be a 'model'. Just a small heads up: with me on board success is very improbably. (I seem to have the same allusive relationship with success as I seem to have with the ladies) Also, thanks for saying that I was a diamond (I am going to assume that was about me...it's how I keep my self-esteem up: I pretend all good things I read are about me...see 'Catching him would be like catching the wind.' for further confirmation.
Rowan Davies
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