The Basement Chronicles

Another solitary night. I demand letters.

Damn sushi! Why must you take so long to make? >_

Keeping myself busy has become a full-time job. With possible probation looming in the horizon and all (okay most… okay two) of my friends graduating, I still don’t know where I’m going in life- whining about which has led me to believe that I suffer from a more severe case of self-centered, indolence than I acknowledge.

Every career path that I envision myself pursuing (or getting comftably rich in) requires a dramatic change in my academic course which means the last three years are pretty much useless. And I realized another thing, a pretty important thing. All of these “choices” require hard work. They require continued interest, talent (or some level of skill in the least… or a very, very rich uncle), initiative and social networking in real life (haha… i know –_-). NONE of which sounds like something I’d be good at/want to do/like thinking about.

THIS was supposed to be the time in my life when I do things. Or at least that was the plan back when I was not 30 years old. Going places, writing, learning, contributing, indulging the closet activist in me… Instead I spend hours everyday glaring at the monitor thinking how I hate where some things (my life included) are headed. And how my having an opinion about it matters as much as a bird taking a shit in a forest.

The reason for this unwarranted regurgitation is that I am quite incapable of making any decisions regarding my future. Not only am I insouciant, unmotivated and incurably lazy, I am also not hardwired to direct my energy into something that I’ve thought up myself simply because these ideas dissolve just as quickly as they appear and I stop caring about them.

 

And I’ve lost the energy to continue… see what I mean? I wanted to write about some of the positive (yeah I know.. scary term) things that I experience from time to time.. Some of the ideas that verge on being creative or at least interesting. But now I feel like I’m just dragging this endless monologue about how I’m the most useless pile of carbon based molecules I know. To no consequence or melodramatic epiphany nonetheless.

…I wonder what do people who have interesting, fulfilling lives blog about.

Sometimes I wonder why my thoughts and things that move me are always so extreme.  Even when I'm moved by small things i tend to be moved a lot. More than the occassion/object would command in a normal person. Is it because my life is so far from extraordinary that my mind's always on a speeding train? I don't know.

Point is, it's raining outside. And I can see poetry everywhere.

and you're wondering, how far down you are on my callback list..

I try to find any excuse I can to walk barefoot on the lawn when it's wet. Being with myself hasn't been that bad so far. I might just survive the summer in Newmarket, miles away from people I spend most of my time with. Away from my usual getaways and away from intoxication that offers temporary solace. 

I have enough time to notice that Newmarket's very pretty. If I made a movie about my life, I'd spend try-hard amounts of time shooting sunsets in big empty parking lots.

if i was an artist (or had any talent) i’d turn my cost curves into conceptual flowers. they’d be so much more pleasing to my senses and fun to stare at!

I write entire slews of post-nuclear fiction in my head while I'm trying to decipher color coded cost curves (hoorays alliteration!) *sigh*

“Noboborsho” used to mean something back in Bangladesh..*sigh*

When examining an unknown residue of unidentifiable liquid on any surface:

_Y_ Smell it

_Y_ Touch it

_N_ Taste it