And here's an opening statement.
Alright, enough with that joke. Truth is, I can't come up with anything lately. Where this blog will go, I'm not even sure. I have nothing really to write about. Sure, there's plenty on my chest, copious amounts of thinking going on in my sleep-deprived little brain.
Well hey, there's something. Sleep. We all need it, right? Well why can't I get it? Every night, I either fail to go to sleep when I want to, or I toss and turn in a fitful dream until I wake back up and roll around until 4 am when I can finally close my eyes for 3 or so more hours. I have nightmares rather frequently; mostly about not being worth anything, being too isolated, too crowded, too angsty, too apathetic. Everything is extremes, I suppose.
I guess that's another thing though. I keep feeling like I won't meet expectations. Not other people's expectations - hell, they can fuck off if they expect anything at all from me - but my own. Will I be able to make it through my last year of high school? Will I get into the college I want to? Will my girlfriend stick with me, despite a 5 hour drive, that will only be getting longer, to see each other? All these things are weighing me down, mentally. I feel.. defeated, is a word. I wish I could hang my head in shame and trudge off the field to practice for another game, but that isn't how life works.
I'm spent, you could say. I despise responsibility, I'm addicted to video stimulation and technology. It's terrible, and I don't have the energy to care enough to change it.
- And this whole time, I feel like I'm just complaining. I don't feel like I'm just getting this off my chest, like I just need to vent and put into words what I'm feeling. I mean, there is that aspect too, but I'm only made to feel worse that half the reason I'm even typing this out is because I want someone to look at it and say, "Oh, it's ok. It's just anxiety and nerves getting to you. I'm sure you'll get through the phase like all of us well-adjusted adults have!"
I don't want it to be true, but I know it is. I might say I might not post this, but I know I will - whether it's meant to be a message to myself or not, I'll be posting this because I hate typing to myself. Too much effort, talking is easier. The conversations I have are pretty creepy sometimes.
So you think I'm insane then? A typical stoner-type? No, don't even lump me in. I suppose I shouldn't accuse you, the reader/s of doing so, I hate hypocrisy. But that's just it: someone finds out I'm a little off, a little wired sometimes, or just plain weird or creepy, and BOOM! I'm suddenly a hardcore pothead, looking for a cheap smoke. But I'm not. I don't really smoke weed, I didn't like the experience all that much. Sure, I'll probably try it again in a different environment, which I determined was the issue.
So NOOOW I'm the druggy, huh? I suppose that's your opinion, so keep it to yourself. Every drug experience I've had so far was very introspective when I look back on it. With moderation, I still like to perceive the world in a different light, one determined by skewing your senses a little to see how you'll react, or even let another part of you decide how to act. I've seen some really awesome stuff, but I'm not going to push drugs on anyone, ever.
Oh, and I guess it makes me a bad person if I'm not 100% anti-drugs. Honestly, why should I be? I felt really good, and it continues to make me feel good. As they say, It's adventure time.
But enough on drugs. I guess I started to really ramble back there. I doubt most of anyone is even going to read this whole thing... My creativity is lacking.
Oh, there's another! I've been feeling lately as though... I'm not creative anymore. I was supposed to go to a poetry slam on Saturday. I tried for a solid 2 weeks to write anything down, to make up one rhyme I could work with, a limerick, A HAIKU! Nothing. My mind was blank, my fingers were stiff. The best I have going for me right now is a little rhetoric and a stinging tongue. And even that's been lacking lately.
And don't even get me started on my art. I haven't been able to draw anything worth using as a fire starter, let alone a piece of "art." My photography is totally lacking, I guess, but I feel like it's just cheating the process. I wish I could paint though.. I used to have an easel and some canvases, but nothing ever became of them. Nothing I didn't just trash anyway.
I like art. All art. Even really really deep and dark, ultra-depressing art. But I have no feel for it anymore. It's bland, what I drew, nothing of what I saw. My colors were dull, no feeling in them. Life? Ha. Nothing popped, blended, saturated into emotion. And it only saddens me more to know I can't even really express such a thing. I see my friends, so many of them such aspiring artists, ready and willing to use their work in portfolios and resumes for everything from a college final to applying as an Art Psychologist.
Ugh. I feel ignored. I think I might give a few people the link of this blog, just so I'm certain at least someone will see it. I guess thats a big theme in my life. I don't feel important, accounted for. I was marked absent in my 5th period class yesterday. I talked to that teacher literally moments before he took attendance. The only reason I didn't sit in detention is because I got my friend to come into the office and vouch for me. There are plenty of other examples too, I know. I'm always being interrupted when there's more than 2 people around me. Anyone older than me pretty much thinks I don't meet the necessary prerequisites to be given any attention. "The Administration is Infallible" could be a book somewhere I just haven't read. Oh, and screw that topic. I don't EVEN want to get into that. Too much.
But here I am: Matt the Computer Geek who thinks he can write some code if he really tries. I could go most anywhere if I want though. I'm into cars. I could go into auto design, or even repair. I love physics, so why not molecular physics? How about.. how about I stop there. You know what they say. I'm a Jack -of-All-Trades, master of none. I wish I were though. But nope. I'm gonna sit here, typing this blog out, complaining, hoping, wishing for something.
But not praying, I guess. A lot of people say they're confused or something when I try to explain my religious views. I don't really get that. Others tend to call me a lazy heathen. To put it simply, I'm a bit of an existentialist agnostic. I realize that something must have created us, be it deity or energy, even the all powerful Force, or the pantheon of ancient Greece. But again, I can't be sure. There are literally millions of books on religions, "Why I'm right and he's wrong," "Why these gods don't exist," "Why you should worship this god(s)/energy/nature." To sort of some this up, it's just not important enough for me to even want to care, let alone actually doing so. Whether or not something created us is of no meaning to me: I have no proof, not response, no stimulus; all there is is a bunch of groups of people who say what their god is and what he/she/they want us to do. And some religions don't focus on a deity, so I'll even include them. Wiccans and druids and the like, they're religions too and deserve recognition.
But again: I just don't want to care. I'm not bashing anyone here, "To each his own," is not just a quote to me, it's a law. If you feel the need, the given-right, and the will to pray or practice, by all means, please do. I just don't want to, and that's all that matters. The individual must always have the final say, though they rarely will. Again, I apologize if this offends anyone. If you are still confused or want to talk to me about it for any reason whatsoever(be it to attempt to persuade or just to guide, I will not reject you. I will give you a reason for why I'll say no, and you're more than invited to have an intelligent discussion(not debate, please) about religion and philosophy of such.
Well shit.. I'm really long winded tonight. I had no idea all that crap was just floating around up there. I'm sure more is contained within, but I can't bring myself to want to keep going. I'm sure all this rambling has dried your visual palate, or the auditory one if you read aloud in your head like I do. Seriously, I'm getting annoyed by the sound of my voice as I repeat what I type in my head.
I am Matt, computer-geek psuedoartist full of angst and rhetoric, and no place to put any of it - Expression starts with the mind, I suppose, and my mind starts the day with a fat helping of emotional tar (Mmm, bland and heavy). This is me, partly, and that was my first blog.
P.s. It took me about 5 minutes to actually press "submit."
P.p.s. Scratch that, it more like 12.