Saturday, April 09, 2005

SquishedLizard = Narcipost?

I'm feeling a bit bleh. I'm sitting here, and thinking that I have a problem. I have several; indifference may, or may not, be my problem. And honestly, I don't care. "What's the difference between indifference and apathy? I don't know, and I don't care."

It's amazing how much of my writing gets thrown away, or torn up, or deleted. I love, and hate that delete key. Part of me thinks that no matter what I do, it should be saved.

My writing means so much to me, and at the same time, I wonder why?

I have to write, and paint, and draw, because there are just too many fucking thoughts floating around in my head, and if I express, I get them out. They are already out there, and I can move on. At the same time, I think, "Nobody gives a damn, so why should I?" Maybe I care because it makes it easier for me to think? Or maybe I care because I don't have a choice, which is entirely too likely.

Frank said earlier, "no matter how much "I'm happy" days you build up, you can't cash them in. they don't build up they spend immediately or they waste away. you are alloted very few things that make you happy, so do them, or die miserable..."

That's somewhat comforting, and makes me sit back and say, "Yeah! So there! ...stupid brain..."

I can't shut it off. I write, because I have to get this thing out, so it stops bothering me, or I describe an emotion because in reality, at least in my head, the emotion is connected to the painting I have in mind, and recording the emotion, or the feeling I get, allows me to keep the picture. I read the post, and I go right back to the place where I meant to be.

But why can't I shut off this fucking voice that screams at me to get this damn thought out of my brain? "Liz! It's taking up useful space...c'mon liz... this is like storing 90megs worth of meg ryan pictures..."

A dear soul told me, when I asked why I can't turn it off: "For the same reason that I can't stop thinking. In your own life, you are the most important thing. If we were all here to take care of eachother, we'd never get anywhere. It's the people that are working for themselves that are the innovators."

That cheered me up, and made me look at this a bit differently. I printed that out in big font to tape to my wall.

I know this is chaotic, and doesn't really matter, but that's okay. It doesn't have to. So there! Narciposts* galore!!

And hey, who says Narciposts can't be fun? We're all guilty of them. I'm sure most of what I say falls into the reality of a narcipost.

Hell, most of my existance could be classified as a narcipost.

Narcipost: A shamelessly egocentric blog post that's of little interest to anyone besides the person who posted it.

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