Where to begin?
I guess nowhere is as good a place as any. Been sick a lot lately. Now I'm just sick of my life. Makes you wonder sometimes if anything is ever really worth it or not. Been trying real hard not to drive myself crazy but I don't think that's working. Either way, I've found that I can't please anybody, not even myself. Kinda sucks when you are out to get you, now doesn't it?

Been writing a lot though. Not sure that it makes a difference or not, just a way to spend the day and not have to think about everything else that sucks in my life. Money is of the devil and I am a consumer whore. I hate money. I hate what my life has become. I don't know what I am going to do with myself on any given day. I have no direction, no sense of purpose, I'm just here. I feel like every body wants me to have a plan but I got nothing. Nada, zip, zero. I am such a loser. Who cares about what I want or think or anything like that? I don't even think that I do at this point.
Like I said. I have nothing to say. Not a damned thing.
So take that, losers.
Ha!

so, um...
my S.O. told me how to do cuts of my lj so that it's not so horrendous to skim through for readers. And I figured out how to do it on my last entry, but the previous one before that got stupid. Or, if you want to get technical about it, I got stupid and can't figure out how to fix it. I think I broke the entry. It's locked. Go me. I dunno. It's not that I'm not technically savvy or anything, it's just that apparently I suck. that and dial-up modems are for shit. So, there you have it. The latest dreck of my life. woo. I think I figure it out... Just give me fifty years or so. Thanks.

Being a goldfish murderer is really really hard sometimes. Some people may not understand just how hard it is...
Okay, enough about that. So. Yeah. I am now officially free from my dead end soul sucking job. I've wanted to quit for years. In fact, I think I'm insane because i hated that job the minute I started training for it. So why did I stay? Because I'm a capitalist whore who needed money. <lj-cut>

so...
I miraculously managed to edit ninety pages of the story I'm currently working on. Yay me. I have a ton of people at work now that want to read it, but I'm not done. That and for some strange reason I'm kinda shy about it. Maybe because they wouldn't ever picture someone like me writing the stuff I write about. I must look sweet and innocent because I always get two very annoying responses when someone finds out that I write. 1. Is it a children's book? 2. Do you write poetry?
AAHHHGGG!!!
No, no, no, and hell no.
I write horror and dark fantasy. Maybe that's why I'm going with the whole pen-name thing. the less people assume before they actually read it, the better off I am, right?
So, one of my bestest friends, Brian, is the first person to actually read the script/draft/ whatever.
I got ninety pages done. I'm a little over half way now!!
The problem, my cute little printer doesn't have the oomph or the willpower to chug out ninety pages in under a half an hour. I know this. I've tried.
I need a new printer!!! Waaaaa! the one I want is like $400.
Yikes. But, it has a toner cartrige that would last me 60,000 pages, I think. If I read it correctly. I want a printer that's actually for office use because I'm going to be doing a lot of high volume printing in the future, especially if I'm going to continue putting out novels that are 400 pages or more. I need to have it all printed up in a final copy so that I have something to read right in my hands and that I can mark up when I check the flow of the plot and for people doing things in character.
I need $400!!
This sucks. I is poor right now. Maybe I should go whore myself out or something...
Scarey thought that.
Also, I submitted a short story to a writing contest in October and the winners will be announced next month. It's the first one I've ever done and I'm being really passive aggressive about it. On one hand I want to know if I did cause it'd be cool. On the other hand if I don't, I don't want to sweat it, you know? Just cause you don't win the first contest you enter doesn't mean you suck, right?
Oh well. I guess I'll find out sooner or later.

Do you ever find yourself wondering what the f@#! you have been doing with your life?
Cause seriously, WTF.
I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever get anything done, or if I'm doomed to a life of monotany and boredom. I need to have some kind of meaning in my life, some kind of purpose, right? Maybe I just don't know what I'm doing. Maybe I have no freaking clue about anything and am just trying to make it from day to day. But I can't do that anymore. I've been at the same mundane job for almost three years now, three years!!! That's far too long for someone as imaginative and indepent as myself. I need FREEDOM!!!
I need a vacation.
Not that that would change a damned thing about my pathetic life.
Kay, time to assess.
I have over four, count them, four novels in the works, each at different stages of developement. Do I have a problem finishing things? I say hell yes!
But why? Why I ask you! Why!!!
Could it be because I'm afraid of rejection? Of being told that I'm a wack job and should try focusing on something a little more realistic than being a writer for a living? I've already given up on so much, and for what? Because I thought I couldn't do it. Because I listened to the evil little gremlins of doubt that live in the back of my brain that constantly tell me that I suck. But I don't. I don't suck. (well, not when it comes to writing. Don't even ask what happens when I play basketball. That's another story entirely.)
I don't brag and I certainly don't tell other people they can't do things. So why do I worry that I can't? I have a lack of faith in myself. That and my muse is always like, blah blah blah blah blah, oh hey, what about this, and that thingy, and that guy over there, and I wonder what it's like in china right now, random stuff like that. It's not a lack of ideas. That is something I've never had a problem with. I have an overactive imagination. My problem is everyday living. I suck at that.

I'm bad with money, hell I can't even take care of myself, usually. I'm trying but not whole-heartedly. And why? Shouldn't I put all of my energy and time into something that has the potential to not only make me happy, but rich as well? I'm not talking filthy OMG I have so much money that I could never possibly spend it all so I might as well build a freaking castle rich, just enough money to live on, just enough to get by and not have to worry for like a year about when my next paycheck is going to come in and what the hell am I going to do about the bills and stuff.

Yeah. It sucks. I think I might go back to school, but... I don't know. I don't. I don't know anything about real life. Yay, go me.
Depressed? Probably. Suicidal? Nope. Things aren't that bad. Not yet. Restless? Yep. Tired of working a menial job where I get no respect? You bet I am.
All hail the register monkeys!
All hail the monotony of a loser's life!
Hail! Hail!

Okay, a bit overdramatic. Sorry about that. It's just that I have so much I want to do, and not enough time to do it in. I have too many projects I wish to finish and not an ounce of will power to get them done. And why? Because I work at an evil soul sucking job that is sapping me of my will to live. Evil f-ing jobs. Damn them all to hell. Sucks being a consumer whore, now doesn't it?

So. In conclusion. I'm a big whiner and things could be a hell of a lot worse. I could be on fire. Cold Fire.
Makes everything else seem kinda nice, now doesn't it?
I mean, I have a job, I have great supportive friends (for once it's kinda nice)- my only problem with that, is that everyone wants to do stuff and I have absolutely no cashola. None. I is broke. And going out and doing things costs moneys. Bastards.
I have a great long term relationship with my SO- Seven years going on eight!! my god. In a world where the average marriage lasts what, two, three years tops, my relationship is a freaking miracle. Go us!!
Remember, relationships don't work unless you work at them. Sage advice, that.
Oh, and I have cats! How can one not be happy about that?
So, Mr. Starkey-pants, suck it up and quit yer whining, ya pansy! Rrrrr.
Did I ever mention that I have a thing for pirates and Renaissance Festivals. Oh. I didn't. I know nothing, I swear!! I just wanted a freaking turkey leg! That's all. Honest! MMMmmmm, turkey....
I'm salivating. Must be hungry... Maybe that's why I'm so grumpy. Or maybe I just need a better, less demeaning job. I need one that's more than just a means to an end, i.e. for the money. I just wish that I could find one. I know my calling. I just need to get there. Not much longer now, right?
I certianly hope so.