Ugh

I’m surprised to find that I managed to sleep with long. As it turns out, when you feel as bad as I felt yesterday, it doesn’t matter when you woke up. Anyway, since the time on my blog is wrong (I really should fix that) I will let you know that it is 2:36 in the morning and I am quite awake. I just turned down phone sex with someone I knew (I won’t name names due to my vast readership) because of the nature of our relationship, because I don’t remember if she’s legal and because I am “sort of dating” someone right now who lives in New York.

I don’t think I’ll be elaborating much on that topic, it’s makes me sad inside but I am proud of being the person who turns down casual sex encounters with people I probably definitely shouldn’t have them with. This post is actually in relation to a different decision. I have decided to act like, in my mind, I am already a famous loved movie star whenever I am out and about. I think about being famous sometimes anyways, but if I can trick myself into having the same self image (i.e. I remember I was rejected by THOR! YES THAT THOR) then I might just be a happier, healthier me.

So I’ll let you know how that turns out.

 

The End.

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Eye Boogers

I’m not going to defend that fact that I woke up at 3pm today. Though I was reading a fascinating book all night and did not go to bed until somewhere around six thirty in the morning. I’m not sure exactly what to say at this point. I haven’t drawn anything in the thirty minutes I’ve been awake so I shan’t complain about that. I suppose it upsets me that I haven’t really been invited to anything this weekend, but then again what does it really matter? I don’t think I would have too very much fun spending time with any of these people anyway. Right now I am just in a sort of floating state of discomfort as I am hardly awake at all.

I need to shave.

 

 

And thus ends another fascinating blog post.

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Well.

I can honestly say I feel no more comfortable posting this now at the “almost not quite the same day” mark, but to Hell with it. I drew a picture that made me sad and I need some sweet sweet blogwhining to tide me over.

As for the nature of the picture. Well that doesn’t really matter. I am fairly certain that to other eyes it wouldn’t hold any more abject terror than the other pictures I drew over the course of today. But at some point over the course of drawing that picture the soft pointless music I had played in the background sort of infected my head, I became dizzy and began furiously shading. At what point this drawing went from practice drawing someone with their hands on their face to abject soul-crushing despair I cannot be certain. But I feel fairly comfortable saying it was around the time that I was feeling the music and my eyes were welling up for no apparent reason. Anyway I thought I should write this horrendous event down so that I can laugh at it later when I am feeling better.

Still the emotions inside me are, for better or worse, beginning to feel like they are turning into misanthropy. I just need to figure out how to stop being so miserable about everything.

I haven’t felt like maybe I had a serious problem for a long time until tonight. Maybe I should see a doctor again. Usually I don’t feel like I am LITERALLY crazy. Today is an exception.

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Pain

I know this makes something like three posts all in the same day but whatever. No one can fault me for having things to say (they probably can but this post isn’t about my inability to make definite statements).

Right now my back hurts almost as much as my ego. The reason for this is as follows; I have been hunched over my computer desk drawing for…I think all day. It’s all I actually remember doing in any case. The reason for the back pain is the fact that I was hunched. The reason for the ego pain is that I have been drawing.

The thing about art is that its not actually art unless you are good at it. In all the struggles to define the word art in all of the known world, I’m not sure if it has ever come up that it’s basically just something that is good.

As such I will not begin referring to my drawing as art. I will however say that they suck terribly and the only reasons I don’t give up are that I have a friend who believes in me and I have nothing else to spend my time doing. This blog obviously excluded.

Seeing as how the original purpose of this blog was, in fact, to vent my emotions rather than keep them bottled up I have to say some things here.

The truth of the matter is I don’t think I’m actually good at anything I do. So naturally I always end up frustrated. I really only apply this whole mindset in my head to the creative realm, but to be completely honest, I honestly can’t think of anything I haven’t been a massive failure at in my life.

Relationships, friendship, school, socializing, having a job.

I guess my whole underlying problem is a feeling of worthlessness that I won’t be able to get over until I find a shred of proof that it’s all in my head.

People say I am a good writer but….blegh.

That’s all I have to say.

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Stray Thought

RHETORICAL QUESTION IMPENDING:

Does anyone else have extreme amounts of difficulty thinking of the people in their lives as strictly non-sexual beings? I’m not talking about family members, though I had a remarkably hard time thinking of anything BUT sex on the day of my sister’s wedding, but just the members of the opposite (or same depending) sex that you’re not interested in or aren’t interested in you. This even applies to women that no one else would think of like that, teachers I’ve had that we outright UNattractive, world figures, hideous beasts that only probably had human organs. I just can’t help thinking about getting it on with them, or in less disturbing cases them getting it on. \

It’s obviously not a momentous part of my life or anything. It may even be my age. Usually I just dismiss the thought. But it’s still awkward when you’re sitting a car with your brother’s girlfriend (or ex) and your thoughts are all sex.

“Would I mind having sex with them?”

“Would they mind having sex with me?”

“Are they thinking about sex right now?”

“Have they had sex with other people here?”

“Did they enjoy it? How would I perform in bed?WhycanIevenbegintohavethoughtslikethiswhenthey

aresittingrighttherenexttomehavingnoideathatat

leasthalfofmythoughtsarecurrentlyinvolvingtheir

vaginawhyohwhywasIcursedlikethisisthissomeform

ofsicknessshouldIseeadoctororjustkeepmymouthshut

thispersonwhoprobablyfindsmerepulsiveisnowwrithing

aroundnakedinmymindOHDEARGODSTOPTHIS”

etc.

P.S. Probably going to start writing a small comic just for myself, because someone godly told me to.

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Consitancy. HAH!

My promise of regularity survives one more day of the tempestuous life I live. I use the word “tempestuous” with, of course, the utmost sarcasm. Today I drew some pictures. Granted art is one of the few things I enjoy in this world, so naturally it couldn’t be considered TOO wasteful a use of the day.

To further clarify a point I made in my first post “I love drawing but I hate my drawings” I will now go on to explain my dubious talent in the area.

I’ve never taken an art class or drawn more than doodles until very recently and so most to all of my art is sub-standard. I’ve tried not letting it bother me and up to today I have been completely unsuccessful. However today I found myself using a “How to Draw Baby Wario” that turned out VERY well. And so I have faith that with a year or two of formal training I might very well be passable.

It’s not that I think art could become my career. Though I do have a large degree of faith that I would not mind it being so. It’s just that I so enjoy putting the things in my head onto paper. And I have so much respect for artists like Jhonen Vasquez or JR Goldberg for having a visible representation of their thoughts and feelings be a major source of income.

In short drawing is one of the things that I have no faith I can do but have lots of hope it will make my life better whether I do it well or not.

On a personal front I haven’t spoken to a being that does not live in my house for almost a week now. So if anyone is secretly reading this somehow, feel free to contact the man you are spying on. He is very lonely.

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Oh, hello.

Let us take a moment to get to know ourselves shall we? I started this blog at the request of a friend. That is, I erased the whiny self-indulgent posts that previously inhabited this page and got a fresh start at the request of a friend.

My friend thought that it would be best for me to have some place to vent my emotions and struggles without having to deal with being  judged by anyone I know or care about, and to that end she suggested I start a blog and fill it with all of the innermost shit that I keep bottled up.

Do not, however, let the fact that you are reading my metaphorical toilet stop you from enjoying the new and improved self-indulgent whiny posts that I will be putting onto this site with hopefully some regularity. If, for some reason, you find yourself lusting for a knowledge of the deepest, most angsty, thoughts of a midwestern high school graduate then you have hit the gold mine . I intend to ramble a lot. I also intend to post things I will regret. So look forward to that.

Speaking of posts I will regret, in this first post, aside from the above introduction, I intend to try to define myself via text. This has always proven (through both dating sites and emails) to be nearly impossible and always uncomfortable but here we go.

My name is Thor. I am 19. I graduated from a small town high school. On the night of my graduation all of my friends were at my ex’s so I bought Mcdonalds gorged myself , watched TV and pretended I wasn’t crying. At any given time in my life I have had no more than three people that I would call friends, and even less that I am likely to spend time with without suffering from the urge to commit vehicular homicide.

I like folk/comedy bands, and pretty much anything that can be defined as Rock and Roll, though I’ve always been more about the lyrics than the music so as long as I respect whoever writes their songs I will probably be pretty into them.

I love to eat and hate how I look. I love drawing and hate my drawings. I love reading and hate most books. I love videogames and I hate  “gamers” as a whole. I like women but have never dated one I respected. And I love people but am scared to death of interacting with them.

I was given pills for social anxiety which might have worked but I didn’t think they were working at the time. Plus they gave me worse insomnia. So I threw them out.

Well shut them away really. I would pull them out and take them whenever I needed to stay up to write a paper or, more often, beat a game.

I think I alienate people though it could very well be my imagination. I think that I am too smart for my own good though all evidence points to the contrary. I went through highschool as a lonely outcast until I got a girlfriend and joined the Speech team. Then she cheated on me, broke up with me, all my friends took her side and I dropped out of high school. I managed, through some strenuous school, to pass after that whole ordeal leaving me with terrible grades friends I didn’t really trust and as always no motivation to try at anything.

Currently I deal with the daunting tasks of trying to be more charming and attractive, and trying to move my life in a directions that gives me just a LITTLE less time to waste sitting around the house feeling sorry for myself.

I am working on my ACT.

My practice score was: Reading: 34 English: 30 Math: quit and chucked the book across the room Science: got all but 11 wrong.

I am tired and in some kind of state of severe head pain, so I am going to pretend that I wrapped up the infinite complexity that is human emotion and call it a day.

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