I went to meet my friendly local State Farm representative today, which made me feel like kind of an idiot. Where do you work, Starbucks, Have you gone to college, Kind of, 401k, Not Really, What do you like to do, Things. I always get uncomfortable when I have to give anyone a life-synopsis, especially anyone in any sort of official position. What do I really like to do? Drink lots of coffee, draw on newspaper on my wall and pretend I'm drawing on the wall itself, justify dancing by myself in my room by calling it "kinetic trance therapy" (it kind of is), look up people's astrological signs on Wikipedia, come up with ideas and then never implement them, wonder whether I'm getting better or worse, commune with the entropy that one can only truly sense at 2 a.m., etc. etc.
But the main struggle is the feeling, lately, that I have nothing to offer. And this insidious bastard is one of those annular brain-traps where thinking makes it so. Nothing to offer, not to friends family teachers audiences lovers anything. Self-pity! Awesome!
Well, maybe some light entertainment is in order. Here's me taking an impromptu spin through "Baby You're a Rich Man":
Also, look at these goddamn beautiful pictures:
And finally, here is a picture of a duck having a party. Hee. :)
It's impossible to offer nothing if someone misses you, which I do. (And self-pity is an excuse for indolence, nothing more!)
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