But the truth is that I've had many blogs over the years. I've made ones with a purpose. Or a theme. Or a reason to get up in the morning. But in the end they all fail because I feel like they have no use or they've been quiet for too long.
I think this is type of thinking is silly. I don't write blogs for anyone else. I don't write my thoughts out so people can critique them or think I'm insane or wrong. It's not a Master's-level thesis on the interworkings of the human mind, or a Psych 101 course paper. I'm also not a professional social media analyst, or someone that gets paid because he's an Internet celebrity, which means I have to have a certain postings-to-day ratio to ensure my thousands I get paid are for a reason. (What I'm saying is that I'm not Wil Wheaton, that entitled fucked.) I will never get to that point, and I'm damn glad that it's the case. The Internet is fine and all that, but why have every single character you type into a keyboard become analyzed by thousands a people?
No. If that's what you want from me, then that's not what you are going to get. I can't guarantee quality, quantity, or sanity. I can promise you though that everything I write here will be truth.
But writing a diary with a grand scheme in mind? That's crazy talk. This is not why I'm creating my (5th?) initial post on an online diary. If no one ever reads this then I'd be as happy as I could ever be. I don't really mind. I'm not here to please anyone, nor will I ever think I was put here on this planet to do so.
So where were we. Why am I here? Why did I make this blog? Well, it's an outlet I suppose. I, like all sentient beings, have a lot of thoughts throughout the day, and often I forget them as soon as I think they because I'm a horrible person with an even worse memory. Sometimes I think I should buy a dream diary so all the fucked up shit my brain creates while I'm unconscious could be cataloged, but then I forget to buy said diary and the vicious loop continues.
The point is that I like having a place to put my thoughts. They can, and will I assure you, range from everything and nothing without any rhyme or reason. Anyone who has ever met me in real life knows that I can be random at times for no reason function beyond that's just how I work. It's how I'm wired. I will often find a way to not be or act or talk normal simply because it can make me uncomfortable if I'm forced to subscribe to the edicts of the Social Contract for longer than I can handle. Does it make sense? No, it doesn't. But it's how I've worked and existed for 25 years. All of the choices and subconscious interactions that have shaped me into who I am today have made me into the man I am today. I am flawed, I have made some horrible choices in my life, but I am happy with myself all the same. I don't live for anyone except myself right now, and I'm happy as I said.
So. I guess I should stop rambling. Or should I not? I am, after all, a tad bit drunk (always a good way to make a first impression). I am drinking a pint of delicious pale ale that has been sitting chilled in my fridge for way too long, and I'm hopped up on painkillers with nowhere to go, so I think it's an excellence mix of items to end a quiet Saturday with. (The painkillers are for my leg, which is having random muscle spasms since this morning. No idea why. I thought Advil was the best/cheapest first stab at a remedy. I'm not a pill addict.)
My beer is called Elysian Not So Pale Ale. I don't know why the "not so" is on the label, because it's pretty light for my tastes. Not to say that it's a bad beer; on the flip side, it's actually pretty damn tasty. I'm enjoying it rather a lot. I have some music playing in the background, and I'm toasty and content. I'm also a little bit alone, but that's probably the alcohol talking. It's also the painkillers. And the fact that my significant other is nowhere to be seen for a couple weeks. Sad.
No time to get sad though! I should be happy! Life is good. Music is good. I saw Neil Young for the first time in my life at George Mason University yesterday evening. It was a fantastic show that never saw my mouth shut once. I'm still dry and coughing from it. The man is old as dirt, but can still rock out as well as Townsend, Page, Waters, Banks, or any other classic rock god. My only complaint was that my father made an ass of himself because he believes the world revolves around him... but that's par for the course. And another blog post entirely.
I'll end this non sequitur hello by saying that if you do stumble across this blog, I do apologize if it does not meet your tastes. As stated, it doesn't have a theme, or a motive. It's my little diary, and I'm shameless enough to post it for the WWW to see.
Some common postings you will see (that directly reflect who I am) will include, but not be restricted to:
- Music of all kinds
- Video games
- Politics
- My thoughts on the world
- Friendships
- Flawed personality (i.e. - the author)
- Books
- Movies
- Relationships
- My girlfriend
- Employment
- Beer
I would also like to stress that the last bullet will often be more than just "Beer is good." While that statement is accurate, it will also have a tale around why the day's discussion is about alcohol. This tale may or may not be about the beer itself; the beer may just be a sad victim in an unfortunate recounting of hijinx that cannot legally go without being written for the world to see.
Finally... a picture of a baby cursing AT me, instead of me cursing AT it. Because babies scare me. They are money and happiness-sucking black holes. That's why. Sorry future wife if you are reading this - if we have a kid, I assure you that it was just my mid-20s self talking at the time. Johnny is awesome, and the love of my life. He also just threw up his Cheerios. Nose goes on the clean up.
Please don't divorce me.
Now you know the reasoning for the title.
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