Why

Why would anyone choose the web to vent their frustrations of everyday life? I used to think that, but the answer is simple: because the truth is in life it can feel like no one, not even your cat or sheep (if your the farm kinda person) is listening.
I dont know why but I wanted to jump, a few days ago, off the overpass and onto that road with all those screaming cars and you can think it was thoughts of suicide but to me it was just the thought of escape.
I didnt, because its hard to type once your dead. And I dont think I would, but its interesting that the stress of a 9 to 5 job combined with every weird contorted thought can drive one to that moment where you think 'what if'?
Today, epic. I realised that in an organisation with over a thousand people you still, after three years, have to prove what you do and why you do it, and prove that you dont just sit in a cubicle staring at the screen all day.
Yes, all those stats about staff, they come from me. All those reports about financial figures, they come from me. And my colleague of course who is leaving, which has raised the whole 'what do we do with that other guy' question.
And I realised its no big deal, I know goddamit there are kids in Somalia dying of hunger but theres one pressing burning thing in my mind call Stress, generated by that beast known as change, which is just sapping the very essence of life out of me now, and it is not helped by an organisation which has more political machinations and motivations than the Russian politburo, pre-Yeltsin years.

My flaws are many, my edge is close, but I always try and keep my heart pure. People arent evil; theyre just motivated by self interest. Why? Well theres tons of theories on that, but its the truth.
And its hard with a heart like mine to accept that alot, just would not help an old lady across the street, much less a co worker. And in a corporate world where perception is 99 percent of reality, the heart crawls away silently to die. Not mine though, keep fighting the good fight I say.
Look at the sun and realise its going to come up tommorrow. Regardless what the doomsday cults might espouse.

Necronomicon

Was at the local with a mate last night and after way too much wild turkey he freaked me out by talking about the necronomicon, and conspiracy theories involving Hp Lovecraft and stuff. Argh, going to have nightmares *runs to grab a teddy bear and hides*

Finding Mary Janet

So its the easter long weekend, thought on fri would be great to get some mary janet for it. But once again, all i hear is that theres none around, or "hey nah, but theres lots of pills and the cold stuff". Pffft, like i want any of that rubbish.
Oh to clarify havent had any for months, but recently watched 40 year old virgin and theres a scene where theyre talking about watching gandhi and made me think of it.





My theory: theres some guy in perth, huge guy (from getting the munchies too much) sitting on a couch with a 500,000 ounce bag laughing evilly about having it all.

Ps- I dont condone smoking ladies called Mary Janet. This would mess up their hair.

Cactus

Cactus cActus cactus laa cactus laa cactus laa moo moo laa laa wee woo

text

I just argued with someone over sms. Isnt that the definition of pointless? And is there a way forward with anyone once you lose respect for them?
And can cows float? <--this isnt related to the first two. I was not messaging a bovine :P

The Novel

Work on the Novel is going ok. There is a minor hiccup: I wrote so much with pen, in three separate binder books, mostly on the bus on the way to work. Im having trouble reading my own writing, terribly bizarre, thought I would be used to it by 28 but the bus seems to have made it really bumpy and oooey.
Will be trying to get most of it onto softcopy, reminder to self: stop writing on bus.

Trains

Trains I love. Nowhere else, is such a disparate group of individuals required to sit together for at least five whole minutes between stops.

Theres something very socialist about trains. Or at least something very socialist if like Karl Marx was on board, nibbling the chairs.