Five days later, another post . . .

I may give this thing up soon. Blogging may have already served its purpose for me. I let out a lot of useless and bitter ranting so that everyone (friends, family, and various strangers included) likely thinks I'm psychotic, disgruntled, and violent.

But I assure all of you that I am perhaps the least violent person you will ever meet. I just wanted to clear that up. Now that that's settled, let's move on to more pressing business.

Such as the upcoming weeks and how they will affect me--expect a tremendous amount of needless frustration brought on by my need to procrastinate. I told myself earlier today that I should really get a jump on things--be proactive--all that stuff.
*****Pause: I'm trying to tone it down. I'm attempting to not use dirty words or any type of vulgarity. It seems that recent posts have offended various people within my circle of the world, so I am making a conscientious effort to not be angry or negative. I'm finding that to be a difficult process, to say the least. But I will proceed to don the mask of extreme happiness. Here goes . . . *******

I've noticed something weird about my writing. I really like my conversational style, the humor, etc. but I've noticed that I've turned into Emily Dickinson (or maybe just studying her earlier this semester showed me the similarities). I do write about death rather frequently, and for some reason, I've developed an affinity for the dash--as well as for the ellipsis . . . it seems more appropriate for conversation than a bunch of periods and semi-colons. Besides, semi-colons are only wanna-be colons; periods, well, they're just a fucking necessary inconvenience regardless of the denotation.
*****Pause: Okay, I used the f-word. I find that not cursing, unless I'm speaking with people whom I have a certain professional respect for, is a useless thing to do. Especially since there is so much emotion and feeling in that four-letter word. It's like looking at the value of a word like "love", a word which makes everyone all warm and fuzzy. Well, take that word, turn it on its head, slap it in the mouth, punch it in the gut, then jam your arm up its ass until you can't see your elbow--then you get a sense of the f-word. It's truly powerful and filled with a ton of negative energy, something that I tend to thrive on. I probably say it like 40 times a day, unless I'm listening to 2Pac. Then you can probably multiply that times about six. *********

This is my first attempt at postmodern blogging. It's not good at all. If I blog tomorrow, expect a bit more fire. This was an utterly useless and soulless post. I am ashamed.

I was pondering my marital situation the other day and realized how lucky I am to have somebody around that puts up with me like my wife does. Despite all of the nonsense and bitterness that accompanies my public persona, I'm really pretty happily married. Maybe I just like to bitch about stuff just because I know it gets a response (generally shock and confusion) out of people. And I guess I am somewhat of an actor--I do have the ability to pretend and fool people occasionally. So maybe that makes me a fake or a fraud, or maybe that just makes everyone else a fool for believing everything that I say.