My posting has gone down so much since the end of December. I'm not sure if people are going to be happy or sad about that.
I feel so uncomfortable during my days lately. I'm so intent on getting home from work and turning the rest of the world off. I've never appreciated my friends so much as I do now. Life sucks without people you can relate to. And even though I may not see people as often, knowing that they are there makes things so much easier. I turn my social skills completely off at work. I embrace the inner cog and just do what I have to do to get through the day. Honestly if anyone at work saw me in a good mood where I was laughing and joking and carefree they wouldn't recognize me at all. In some ways I like that because it makes me seem more mysterious. In many other ways I realize that it is just a slow form of death. And not the fun types of slow death, like drinking and smoking. No, this is the kind that is more like being drowned in your own dehydration. You think about that, and if it makes sense, then you, too, probably have had an experience in life like the one I am having now.
Bitching about work seems so pointless. No one really cares. If I bitch about it not paying me anything they say "well, you are basically a volunteer" and if I say I want to leave they say "you can't leave, you made a commitment." There really isn't any middle ground. I either suck it up or I am a horrible person. I know that isn't what people are really thinking, but that is the impression I get. I bitch to whoever will listen about my job. Most people get this tone in their voice that seems to indicate that I am a horrible person for bitching about working as an AmeriCorps. That really doesn't seem fair. Everyone is entitled to bitch about their jobs. I am really, really unhappy doing what I'm doing now and everyone treats me like a fucking asshole for even mentioning that I'm upset at all. Well, everyone but a few.
I'm not smart, I'm not wise, I'm just an average guy who wants to make something out of himself at some point. To that end I try a lot of different things. Working in security, working in restaurants, working in ballparks, serving coffee, trying to sell comics online, being unemployed for long periods of time, driving across country for no reason but to be on my own for a while to try to give myself inspiration to write something that other people might want to read at some point. And as for my romantic life I tend to go after the weirdest chicks I can find. Looking at my life the only constant is that I am always trying to find something new and exciting to get my ire up. Usually that doesn't work out so well. But I deal with it and I move on, because that is really the only other option that is available to me. I notice that I fail at a lot of things I try, and I don't think that it is always because of a lack of effort or because I am just a lazy bastard. Mostly it is because on some level I know the only way to enjoy my life is to get as much misery out of the way now so that I can actually understand what it is that I want and why it is that I want that. The fact of the matter is that I'd rather completely fuck up my life when I'm single and 25 then to suddenly try to drastically change my life when I am married with children at 35. Not that I suspect I'll have kids in ten years, but you never know. When I fuck up my life now the only person that really suffers is myself. Later I will lose that buffer zone. I will start to really screw over people that are counting on me. I can't even imagine anyone counting on me these days.
I really like my life these days, though. Despite my job, things are falling in place pretty well. Tanner living here is so far working out pretty well. And although I've had to adjust a few of my habits here and there to work around him being here, just having someone else around has made my life seem to suck considerably less. Plus Allison is here a fair amount, and I must admit that having a woman in the house from time to time makes it feel much more like a home than just some low-rent hobbit hole that I found. Life is happening here now! It isn't just a sad burnt out man with nothing to lose, now it is a place that people inhabit.
There are, right now, four women that I have made plans to hang out with in the near future. Most of those plans have fallen through already, and I suspect the rest will fall through as well. But, still, for a cynical asshole like me, that is fairly good. I often find myself wondering why I don't ever bother trying harder with women, then I get situations like this were I have cast a wider net and there is some level of interest. Granted it doesn't always turn into anything, but I like to think of it as practice. Much like writing and "publishing" a blog is practice for writing fiction that will be published. It may not amount to much of anything at the time, but in the long run it is helpful. Just knowing that I am doing something, no matter how febily, helps to make me realize that something will work out the way I want it to in the long run.
Speaking of writing, there is a short story I have been sitting on for some time that I feel needs to be published and I just haven't gotten around to sending it off to lit mags. It probably won't get published anywhere, but I need to try. Because I feel like if I get one story published then it is going to make me confident enough to try to start pushing through the rest of my stories. I really want to get paid to be a writer. That is probably the only job that I am really qualified for and want to do. Excuse the metaphor, but if I could get paid for writing it'd be like making a career out of masturbation. I'm going to do it one way or another, might as well get some cash for it.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Wed-Da Sci-Non Ext-Ga pt.2 1/2!
Okay, I don't have anything Science-non-fictiony to post tonight. No, instead I am simply going to talk about what they are talking about on Scientific American,
Top Ten Science Letdowns of the Decade
Though there is still a decent chance that I will change this to being "Sci-Non Fan-ta Ext-Ga" (The Fan-ta being fantasy) as the article has a perfectly acceptable, non-ironic, quote in it that reads: "But no second hobbit skull has been found yet to settle the debate."
But no space travel, no flying cars, no cures for incurable disease. I thought we were supposed to have it all figured out. I thought we were the future. Although there is a chance that children have stolen that title from us.
We have made incredible leaps forwards in science, but we are still so far behind what we could be. I've always believed that humans haven't really gained intelligence in the last million years. We've figured some shit out, but at our core our brains are essentially the same as the first humans to crawl out of caves and start building shelters. I am certainly no smarter than a person living in the dark ages, I simply have more access to information. Intelligence isn't a measure of what you know, but how you think. We haven't grown all that much in that department in our evolution, and therefore we are virtually unchanged from our ancestors. We just want to eat, fuck, and sleep in comfort. There really isn't a hell of a lot more to us.
So perhaps we are living in a science-fiction novel, and perhaps we are not, but I tell you this, regardless of which is true, we are just as dumb as we've ever been and we will continue to question everything we think we know just as much as we ever have.
Top Ten Science Letdowns of the Decade
Though there is still a decent chance that I will change this to being "Sci-Non Fan-ta Ext-Ga" (The Fan-ta being fantasy) as the article has a perfectly acceptable, non-ironic, quote in it that reads: "But no second hobbit skull has been found yet to settle the debate."
But no space travel, no flying cars, no cures for incurable disease. I thought we were supposed to have it all figured out. I thought we were the future. Although there is a chance that children have stolen that title from us.
We have made incredible leaps forwards in science, but we are still so far behind what we could be. I've always believed that humans haven't really gained intelligence in the last million years. We've figured some shit out, but at our core our brains are essentially the same as the first humans to crawl out of caves and start building shelters. I am certainly no smarter than a person living in the dark ages, I simply have more access to information. Intelligence isn't a measure of what you know, but how you think. We haven't grown all that much in that department in our evolution, and therefore we are virtually unchanged from our ancestors. We just want to eat, fuck, and sleep in comfort. There really isn't a hell of a lot more to us.
So perhaps we are living in a science-fiction novel, and perhaps we are not, but I tell you this, regardless of which is true, we are just as dumb as we've ever been and we will continue to question everything we think we know just as much as we ever have.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Quote of the Day
"Sheriff's officials won't comment on Moore's involvement in Shakespeare's life."
-AP
-AP
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Unavailable For Comment
My arms hurt right now. I lifted on Sunday and they still hurt. Apparently I overdid it. The thing is, though, that I invented something as a result. I had to drive a lot today and since it hurt to raise my arms in even the slightest, I ended up steering with my thumb. I have gone on and on and on about how fucking amazing Toyotas are in the past, and this is clearly proof that I was not just a crazy person who happened to like his car. I fucking drove my car, with great accuracy, with my thumb. Okay, maybe you can do that in a lot of cars these days, what with that fancy power steering, but that isn't really the point. The point is that while doing it I realized that I had a fucking giant steering wheel that looks like something off of a 17th century barge headed to the new world in front of me, yet I could control it accurately with one digit. I thought to myself "well, it is just a leftover from olde tyme cars. And it is the last part of the old way of making cars. A throwback, if you will." Then I realized that they still run on combustible engines, gas and breaks are still controlled with the feet, the car still needs to be shifted manually even though most cars have lost the clutch, and they still basically look the same as the goddamn model T. Cars have come a long way since they were put into mass production, but they still maintain almost the exact same model as the first cars ever built. I think it is time to change all of that. Which is why I have invented the first car that can be driven with a simple thumb operated joystick. Not unlike what you might find on an XBOX controller. The system would go in between the driver and passenger seats, and you would use your other fingers to control gas and breaking. When you need a break from driving, the passenger can take over without you even needing to slow down. Also, you don't have a giant wheel in front of you the entire fucking time. The technology is there, the know how is there, the will isn't. Maybe I didn't invent this, but, by damn, I am going to see it happen. Well, I might see it happen, if someone else makes it happen. Feel free to steal this idea, world, I don't desire any sort of patent or compensation. I just want to see you get this shit working. Also, if you could name the first cars that are built with the thumb joystick control system "Mormobiles" that would be appreciated.
A lot of time when I go onto Hulu I find that they are asking me which set of commercials I would like to watch. I hear Zool's voice and it is saying "Choose the form of your destructor!" What has the world come to that I have to choose what type of commercials I am going to be subjected to?
The guard greets the anonymous prisoner at the gate, "Yes, Mr. A. Terrorist. Welcome to Guantanamo Bay. We offer a wide variety of options for our non-existent prisoners. Would you like (A) Water boarding, (B) Giant Naked Pyramid, or (C) Gnads." Whispering, the guard says, "you do not want to pick C."
More and more I realize that I am just an ideas man. I am great at coming up with shit. Follow through, well, that is someone else's department. I have a meeting at work in a couple days and I have to show some ideas. I am so fucking prepared for that meeting already. I was going to make a presentation for it but the conference room doesn't have a projector. Instead I am going to just use my ideas to kick some ass and chew some bubble gum, and although I have plenty of bubble gum, I am not going to be chewing it.
Today at a client intake I met a woman who knew of me, from my awesome reputation and possibly because my dad is currently living with her son's ex-wife. She spoke fondly of me, almost heroically. I am exaggerating, and that isn't the point of the story. The point is that she was looking for respite care for her because her husband had been, in official medical lingo, Fucked up Something Serious. This has been going on for quite some time. The guy was in line to be the dean of a school in South Africa, then he got mugged and bashed in the head. This was seventeen years ago. Recently she had had caregivers come to the house. The caregivers were of poor repute. Or at least they were after they left her house because one had shown up drunk and one had changed the goddamn locks on her house. She spoke four languages. Her husband speaks at least eight.
The weird thing is that I was basically there to monitor the person doing her intake. We have had some questions as to what organization she is really working for. Don't get me wrong, she is a good person and cares about elder care in all its forms. But we were getting the impression that she wasn't taking my organization seriously. We've sort of hounded her about it for a couple of weeks. She is now taking it seriously. We get the funding, we get the volunteers, we get shit done. I have the unfortunate job of going in as something of an overseer. I have to make friends of people who see me as an obstacle. I am surprisingly good at doing that. Perhaps being a giant who rarely talks has given me an unexpected advantage in life. I know how to turn fear of me into a very real likability.
My dad turned 57 today. Happy Birthday! I really hope that he never actually reads that happy birthday proclamation, though, as that would mean that he has found my blog. I cannot function on this blog if my family knows about it. I am not ready for them to see this side of me, and perhaps I never will. Maybe, just maybe, if my dad is turning ninety I will say "you should go to ghostmorphine.blogspot.com," and that is assuming that I keep this blog going for the next 33 years.
There is a chance that I might have a roommate soon. There are many mixed feelings about that, but mostly I am hoping it happens. I love to live on my own but this place seems awfully dead most of the time. Plus, I think that when I decided to go with a two bedroom I expected to take on a roommate at some point. Its sort of like building a ship. Eventually you are going to take on water, what's important is planning ahead of time to accommodate that water.
I can't write and listen to NPR at the same time, so this is the end of the blog, as NPR is way more interesting than I am.
A lot of time when I go onto Hulu I find that they are asking me which set of commercials I would like to watch. I hear Zool's voice and it is saying "Choose the form of your destructor!" What has the world come to that I have to choose what type of commercials I am going to be subjected to?
The guard greets the anonymous prisoner at the gate, "Yes, Mr. A. Terrorist. Welcome to Guantanamo Bay. We offer a wide variety of options for our non-existent prisoners. Would you like (A) Water boarding, (B) Giant Naked Pyramid, or (C) Gnads." Whispering, the guard says, "you do not want to pick C."
More and more I realize that I am just an ideas man. I am great at coming up with shit. Follow through, well, that is someone else's department. I have a meeting at work in a couple days and I have to show some ideas. I am so fucking prepared for that meeting already. I was going to make a presentation for it but the conference room doesn't have a projector. Instead I am going to just use my ideas to kick some ass and chew some bubble gum, and although I have plenty of bubble gum, I am not going to be chewing it.
Today at a client intake I met a woman who knew of me, from my awesome reputation and possibly because my dad is currently living with her son's ex-wife. She spoke fondly of me, almost heroically. I am exaggerating, and that isn't the point of the story. The point is that she was looking for respite care for her because her husband had been, in official medical lingo, Fucked up Something Serious. This has been going on for quite some time. The guy was in line to be the dean of a school in South Africa, then he got mugged and bashed in the head. This was seventeen years ago. Recently she had had caregivers come to the house. The caregivers were of poor repute. Or at least they were after they left her house because one had shown up drunk and one had changed the goddamn locks on her house. She spoke four languages. Her husband speaks at least eight.
The weird thing is that I was basically there to monitor the person doing her intake. We have had some questions as to what organization she is really working for. Don't get me wrong, she is a good person and cares about elder care in all its forms. But we were getting the impression that she wasn't taking my organization seriously. We've sort of hounded her about it for a couple of weeks. She is now taking it seriously. We get the funding, we get the volunteers, we get shit done. I have the unfortunate job of going in as something of an overseer. I have to make friends of people who see me as an obstacle. I am surprisingly good at doing that. Perhaps being a giant who rarely talks has given me an unexpected advantage in life. I know how to turn fear of me into a very real likability.
My dad turned 57 today. Happy Birthday! I really hope that he never actually reads that happy birthday proclamation, though, as that would mean that he has found my blog. I cannot function on this blog if my family knows about it. I am not ready for them to see this side of me, and perhaps I never will. Maybe, just maybe, if my dad is turning ninety I will say "you should go to ghostmorphine.blogspot.com," and that is assuming that I keep this blog going for the next 33 years.
There is a chance that I might have a roommate soon. There are many mixed feelings about that, but mostly I am hoping it happens. I love to live on my own but this place seems awfully dead most of the time. Plus, I think that when I decided to go with a two bedroom I expected to take on a roommate at some point. Its sort of like building a ship. Eventually you are going to take on water, what's important is planning ahead of time to accommodate that water.
I can't write and listen to NPR at the same time, so this is the end of the blog, as NPR is way more interesting than I am.
Monday, January 04, 2010
Meaningless Status Update
Matt Moore had a dream about women so beautiful that he actually woke up pissed off that all women weren't so wonderful, albeit other women aren't so fictional, so there is a trade off. 06:47 am
Matt Moore is listening to "Monday, Monday" by the Mamas and the Papas. "Monday Monkey lives for the weekend." -Leela 06:53 am
Matt Moore drinks coffee like a pro. 07:01 am
Matt Moore realizes he forgot to put his clothes in the dryer last night, and now is going to be late. 07:10 am
Matt Moore can't find his goddamn wallet. 07:11 am
Matt Moore wants to put whiskey in his coffee now. 07:11 am
Matt Moore is out of whiskey. 07:23 am
Matt Moore is outt of herre, scukers! Woo! Works is goigng to be aweesome. Parrr-rrty! 07:33 am
Matt Moore is listening to "Monday, Monday" by the Mamas and the Papas. "Monday Monkey lives for the weekend." -Leela 06:53 am
Matt Moore drinks coffee like a pro. 07:01 am
Matt Moore realizes he forgot to put his clothes in the dryer last night, and now is going to be late. 07:10 am
Matt Moore can't find his goddamn wallet. 07:11 am
Matt Moore wants to put whiskey in his coffee now. 07:11 am
Matt Moore is out of whiskey. 07:23 am
Matt Moore is outt of herre, scukers! Woo! Works is goigng to be aweesome. Parrr-rrty! 07:33 am
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Stop it! Stop dying!
Sometimes when I am writing my blog I wonder how much fiction I could have written in the time I've spent writing blogs. My guess is a fucking lot of fiction. Yet here I am. At least I am writing something. But I just haven't been good at writing any fiction lately. There might be something to my age that affects that writing style. I feel like I don't have the experiences and the wisdom to write well crafted story. And since I write short stories and even I don't bother to read short stories most of the time, I realize there really isn't too much harm in waiting to build up some life XP before I really throw myself completely into it. Still, I need to get working on some stuff. I keep going back and forth between wanting to go back to school for literature or going back for creative writing. I think both degrees would be useful. But a Masters in Literature sounds cooler. And is probably slightly more useful if I ever want to teach. Of course, that is practical thinking. Generally the more practical I try to be the worse I end up feeling about my life.
When I was at the PSO training in Oregon last month I was talking with this woman who was sort of bashing her father because he was a physicist who couldn't hold down any sort of job and seemed, most of the time, to be a bit off. He would, apparently, just hang around the house and work on equations and fart around. I told her that I had watched a documentary on mathematicians and the high prevalence of insanity that occurs in that field (which is true). That knowledge seemed to soothe her. But it sort of made me mad at her, since I had always wanted to have some half-mad father figure in my life.
Then I look at the practicality of having a father that doesn't really do anything and it occurs to me that that would actually suck. My father is largely defined by his job, and his job provided us everything we needed to grow up in this society. Which makes me realize that no one is really free to just do whatever the fuck they want once they have kids to deal with. It's sort of sad, for me, to realize that because it means that I will likely never be able to have kids. Not that I want any now, but I just float around in this world, doing whatever seems to work out for me at any particular moment. I provide no stability, I provide no role model. The only way that I can really realistically imagine having a family of my own some day is if I am married to someone that makes enough money to support me, her, kids, and a full time nanny. I suppose its possible that I could meet, fall in love, and marry a woman with wealth and, perhaps, huge tracks of land. Honestly I just don't see that really happening though. Maybe if I hung out around prestigious law schools or something. With any luck I could find a woman who is on track to be a partner in some major law firm in the next ten years and has just horrible taste in men.
I came to my blog to post something that I haven't posted because I sort of forgot what it was I was going to post. I thought that if I typed for a while it would come back to me, but it hasn't. Instead I shall just post 5 more tall tales by climate change deniers and leave it at that.
When I was at the PSO training in Oregon last month I was talking with this woman who was sort of bashing her father because he was a physicist who couldn't hold down any sort of job and seemed, most of the time, to be a bit off. He would, apparently, just hang around the house and work on equations and fart around. I told her that I had watched a documentary on mathematicians and the high prevalence of insanity that occurs in that field (which is true). That knowledge seemed to soothe her. But it sort of made me mad at her, since I had always wanted to have some half-mad father figure in my life.
Then I look at the practicality of having a father that doesn't really do anything and it occurs to me that that would actually suck. My father is largely defined by his job, and his job provided us everything we needed to grow up in this society. Which makes me realize that no one is really free to just do whatever the fuck they want once they have kids to deal with. It's sort of sad, for me, to realize that because it means that I will likely never be able to have kids. Not that I want any now, but I just float around in this world, doing whatever seems to work out for me at any particular moment. I provide no stability, I provide no role model. The only way that I can really realistically imagine having a family of my own some day is if I am married to someone that makes enough money to support me, her, kids, and a full time nanny. I suppose its possible that I could meet, fall in love, and marry a woman with wealth and, perhaps, huge tracks of land. Honestly I just don't see that really happening though. Maybe if I hung out around prestigious law schools or something. With any luck I could find a woman who is on track to be a partner in some major law firm in the next ten years and has just horrible taste in men.
I came to my blog to post something that I haven't posted because I sort of forgot what it was I was going to post. I thought that if I typed for a while it would come back to me, but it hasn't. Instead I shall just post 5 more tall tales by climate change deniers and leave it at that.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Deliciousosity
One of my neighbors, who shall remain nameless (because I don't actually know any of my neighbors), is baking up some amazing Cinnamonie smelling breakfast. Probably for their loved ones or something. Mother fuckers. I am Jack's enraged sense of entitlement.
I am not nearly as hip as I used to be when it comes to finding cool British sitcoms, but I came across Black Books on Hulu and it is quite good. Although I might just like it because it has Bill Bailey and involves self-obsessed loners who drink and smoke to much.
Damn those neighbors. If anyone reads this in the next ten minutes or so, they should bring me over some sort of delicious baked goods. Especially if that person happens to be some sort of Master Baker (ha! master baker) by trade (*cou-Sara-gh*). I wouldn't be able to give you any sort of compensation, but isn't spending time in the kitchen baking then driving all the way over here to watch me eat something you made reward enough? Yes, yes it is.
Well, the mighty Blog-Off '09 is over. I won, just like I predicted. Cheb certainly gave me a run for my money, though. Honestly at the beginning I thought he would just spend most of the month coasting on the lead he already had and then maybe throw up one or two posts if I got close. But he pounded out nearly twenty posts. Had I not been completely obsessive about winning, I would surely have found myself on the losing end.
I don't know that I had the results I was hoping for from the Might Blog-Off '09, which I won, that I was hoping for. Sara says she might start blogging more. And Skot sort of resurrected his blog. All the rest of them are still down. Still, it is a start. And I plan on doing the Great Internet Blog-Off of '010 later this year as well. The plan is to get way more people involved. And perhaps to set up some sort of special blog that we can go to to either link to our newest blogs or all be more interconnected through one site that we can all post on. I don't know how well that will work, or how many people will constitute "all." Fortunately that is a project for the autumn, and as I have proved time and time again, I probably will forget about this by then. Although if anyone is interested, or if anyone has been blogging and I didn't mention that you've started up again (or never quit and I'm just an idiot) post a link in the comments, please. I thoroughly enjoy reading people's blogs, and there need be more of them.
I have been told that my Wednesday segment, Wed-Da Sci-Non Ext-Ga, needs a new name. I will take suggestions, if anyone has any, but this isn't some fruity democracy or anything. I mean, it's going to take one hell of a good name to get me to actually change it.
When I was a bit younger I was obsessed with Dave Barry. I really wanted to grow up to be just a random humor columnist. I guess that dream could be way easier to realize now with the internet. I hadn't really thought about it till recently, though. But after a month of power-blogging, I am starting to think about it some more. Most of the blogs I post here are just me talking about myself for a few pages. And generally they are just me complaining, but the ones that I actually put work into and try hard to get something that will be of more general interest are way more fun to write. Even if they aren't, as I'm sure many will point out, actually funny.
I am not nearly as hip as I used to be when it comes to finding cool British sitcoms, but I came across Black Books on Hulu and it is quite good. Although I might just like it because it has Bill Bailey and involves self-obsessed loners who drink and smoke to much.
Damn those neighbors. If anyone reads this in the next ten minutes or so, they should bring me over some sort of delicious baked goods. Especially if that person happens to be some sort of Master Baker (ha! master baker) by trade (*cou-Sara-gh*). I wouldn't be able to give you any sort of compensation, but isn't spending time in the kitchen baking then driving all the way over here to watch me eat something you made reward enough? Yes, yes it is.
Well, the mighty Blog-Off '09 is over. I won, just like I predicted. Cheb certainly gave me a run for my money, though. Honestly at the beginning I thought he would just spend most of the month coasting on the lead he already had and then maybe throw up one or two posts if I got close. But he pounded out nearly twenty posts. Had I not been completely obsessive about winning, I would surely have found myself on the losing end.
I don't know that I had the results I was hoping for from the Might Blog-Off '09, which I won, that I was hoping for. Sara says she might start blogging more. And Skot sort of resurrected his blog. All the rest of them are still down. Still, it is a start. And I plan on doing the Great Internet Blog-Off of '010 later this year as well. The plan is to get way more people involved. And perhaps to set up some sort of special blog that we can go to to either link to our newest blogs or all be more interconnected through one site that we can all post on. I don't know how well that will work, or how many people will constitute "all." Fortunately that is a project for the autumn, and as I have proved time and time again, I probably will forget about this by then. Although if anyone is interested, or if anyone has been blogging and I didn't mention that you've started up again (or never quit and I'm just an idiot) post a link in the comments, please. I thoroughly enjoy reading people's blogs, and there need be more of them.
I have been told that my Wednesday segment, Wed-Da Sci-Non Ext-Ga, needs a new name. I will take suggestions, if anyone has any, but this isn't some fruity democracy or anything. I mean, it's going to take one hell of a good name to get me to actually change it.
When I was a bit younger I was obsessed with Dave Barry. I really wanted to grow up to be just a random humor columnist. I guess that dream could be way easier to realize now with the internet. I hadn't really thought about it till recently, though. But after a month of power-blogging, I am starting to think about it some more. Most of the blogs I post here are just me talking about myself for a few pages. And generally they are just me complaining, but the ones that I actually put work into and try hard to get something that will be of more general interest are way more fun to write. Even if they aren't, as I'm sure many will point out, actually funny.
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