Brain Damage Control

Sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm a little bit too impulsive. I woke up at three am one day and decided, for no apparent reason, that the hair I had been letting grow of its own free will for over two years had to go. Later that day, oh, it was gone. Sunday I thought about getting a new laptop computer. Today I brought home a macbook. Yeah, a macbook, my very own. Its so sleek and sexy and it makes me feel like a fool everytime I look at it. I'm not using it right now, its just sitting there, idly, right next to me. Not to say I haven't been using it, its just hard to surf the web since I'm too lazy to unplug my cat5 from this computer and plug it into that one. And because the only wireless network that isn't password protected that I can get onto from this apartment is insanely slow. Also I haven't got all the controls worked out. Macs are weird.

A while ago I suggested the idea of an online magazine that multiple people, including myself, could work on. The idea never went anywhere and I had all but forgotten about it until last friday, when it was brought up again. I think there is a good chance that something might actually come of it this time. Though who knows, in my mind the working title of it would be something like "lazy inc." and the tagline could be something like "yeah, we are too lazy to even capitalize the title, whatever." But that may be just me putting my own personal bias into the thing. Point being if your interested give me an email or a comment and I'll get back to you. I get really ambitious about stuff, but if nothing is really happening with it my interest will slowly decrease till there is nothing left.

I was working on a book of poems a little while back. I haven't done much with it in the last couple of weeks (i haven't done much of anything in the last couple of weeks, actually). I made a cover for the book, well, a tentative cover for it, while I was really into working on it. I have it up on my wall by my computer, with the vague hope that having it there would inspire me to want to finish it. A moment ago I looked up at it for the first time in a while. Its a picture of a train wreck. Just that and the title. Printed out on a black and white laser printer. It occurred to me that that may end up being the cover for the book of my life. "A train wreck?" You say, " what an original metaphor." Well I have one thing to say to you, mister. "Shut up. Jerk."

Really, though, I've sort of shut down lately. Maybe its the thought of graduating and not knowing what to do. I know I use that as an excuse a lot, but its on my mind a lot. I keep finding myself wishing for a relationship. Something more substantial than my relationship to smoking and drinking diet coke. You know, like, with a person, of a different gendered persuasion. Then I keep getting caught up in the idea that having a girlfriend in my life right now really wouldn't make all my problems go away. But it would help ease my worries, I think. Or at the very least give me this whole other field of worries to think about for a while. Sometimes I think that life is just a game of moving from one problem to the next before the original problem overtakes all common sense. Thats probably why I'm so unfocused when it comes to my life. I just move from problem to problem, leap frogging to avoid being in one spot to long. Like in old NES games that if you stood on a platform too long it would sink, but it would rise back up if it didn't crumple beneath you while you stood there. I can't think of what game exactly it is that I'm referencing here. The point being if you bounced back and forth too quickly the whole fucking floor would give out under you. I don't need to get away from all those platforms, I just need enough that I don't have the ground fall out. I just constantly need new different complications in my life. And lately I feel like I've been stuck on the same ones for way to long and that lava is getting ankle high.

I'd like to take a moment to point out how well that metaphor up there came together. That was a thing of beauty. At least by my standards, which are admittedly low.

I hung up a painting I found in my closet while I was cleaning it out today. The painting isn't good, well, I painted it so what do you expect? And it isn't finished, and I can't really remember what it was that I was going for in the first place with that thing. But I hung it up none the less. Partially to add some color to my room. Partially because the unfinished nature of it spoke so much to my habits. I never finish anything. I'm really bad at the follow through. I remember thinking I was going to whitewash it and start over, but now I'm glad I didn't. I have another blank canvas (I bought a two-pack!) and I think I'll use that to try again. I don't think I'll ever try to be a real painter, but I also think that everyone should paint from time to time. And take photographs. And sing. And write something creative. It doesn't really matter if your any good (I mean, unless you want to have a career in one of those fields) I just think that there is a lot of creativity inside everyone that needs to be released once in a while. But for me the fun comes in pretending to be an artist. And for some reason, even though I want to be a writer, when I think artist I still think painter. I suppose a lot of people do. Painting is art in the way we define it most of the time. Even though thats not the real definition, I don't think you can really be in any creative field if you haven't painted at least a couple of paintings. And I guess thats why I hung mine up. To remind me that, hey, at least I'm trying here.