No more ads :o

I wasn't making much money on them anyway. I made about 11 bucks, but google won't send them until it's reached $100.

No more ads :o

I wasn't making much money on them anyway. I made about 11 bucks, but google won't send them until it's reached $100.

Hey that's one year. gotta pay for the domain again. ten bucks down the drain :o

What is my talent? Do I have one? What rule demands that I do? If I have no talent, what do I have left? If I can generate no appreciable creative works for the world, what reason should I live for? People? People are transient. No one lasts forever. Myself? My self is a shell wracked by base needs and desires, prejudices and superstitions, contradictions and confusion. The higher pursuit of logic? What use is a study that doesn’t answer my own questions, only those of others who refuse to listen?

Is my talent really writing? Can I truly enthrall people as a raconteur? Am I really contributing anything new, or just adding to the endless cacophony of regurgitated tales? What is poetry? Is it really art? Or simply an excess of imagination trapped in a wooden shackle of words?

What else can I do? Reading is an act of consumption, so no amount of talent in it is appreciable to the world at large. I write songs generated loosely from other songs, sans the soul. I attempt to use the world’s trappings to define myself. Is this the Way? Should I define myself by the definitions of others? Am I meant to fit in a hole in society shaped like me?

Why this, either? Is society the same society that makes me feel in my gut that my words are worthless and contemptible, and no amount of pithy attempts to seem “deep” will ever properly express me? Or is that another society, another place? Why, then, do I surround myself with the apathetic and attempt to shield myself with a false sort of cynicism? Is this really the place I belong? Who am I?

Demanding precision in spoken language is possibly one of the most off-putting and unsociable things one can do. I cringe every time I hear someone correct someone else for any reason other than complete misunderstanding. If one understands the message being conveyed, why does it matter how the message is conveyed? This sort of attitude is the antithesis of good communication.

On the other hand, most written forms of language should be held to a fairly high standard; if only because presumably the author had both the time and interest available to proofread the work they write.

Requiring this of spoken language is tantamount to requiring that all shirts you see be tucked in and all shoes shined. It's not going to happen, and it makes the requirer seem petty and pedantic at best, stricken with a mental illness at worst.

I'm a Jeep

Beep Beep, I'm a Jeep.