Thoughts from July 1, 2002

Tomorrow it’s birthday number 32. I know, what the hell do you care. No one else seems to care. Some of them act like they care, but they don’t. It’s not in their job descriptions. Why should they care? Patti always pumps me up for my birthday gifts. It’s not that I don’t enjoy my gifts, but she pumps them up as the perfect gifts. My mind travels through all the perfect gifts I would want when I realize they can never be the perfect gifts because she can’t be in my mind. When I buy something for myself, I spend a great deal of time researching it before I actually buy it. I know more about things I didn’t buy than most people know about the things they buy. My point is, she shouldn’t set me up like that. I keep telling her it only makes me think of things I know she couldn’t have gotten because it would take too much computer knowledge to figure out what I actually want. I know the reader is thinking, “I just wouldn’t buy you a damn thing because you’re just a big fat head who doesn’t deserve presents.” All I’m saying is … I have no idea what I’m saying.

It’s the same shit that happens every year. Right before or after my birthday, I get depressed. It’s kind of like that “I’m getting older” depression most people get. For me, it’s more like “I’m getting older and still haven’t accomplished a GOD DAMN thing in my life” that I’m feeling.

I have an interview for a higher paying and more challenging job next week as a Media Specialist for Commuter Services. I’m supposed to go back to the animation classes at the Animation Academy in August. My camera I tried to order more than a month ago still hasn’t arrived. I now want a PDA (Personal Digital Assistant). They don’t cost that much, but I still can’t afford one. I got a raise in my current job. It was about $40 a pay period. Strangely, that helped little in paying the bills and affording new things. To end this paragraph, I would like to quote from the great and powerful Oz when he said, “… I …” Something like that.

With this new paragraph, I begin a new train of thought. “Train of thought” brings to mind a bunch of giant brains wheeling down a track on their wheel shaped brainstems. They would mind-meld to each other by their frontal lobes. All thoughts would expel from their gray matter like billows of smoke. It also brings to mind the fact that I need to write more – and read more. I had to look up a bunch of stuff (real good use of the English language) to make sure I spelled it correctly. There was something I didn’t spell correctly, but you’ll never know what it was because I corrected it. With that being said, let’s point out that I haven’t really said anything in this paragraph. I guess by talking about the metaphorical image of a “train of thought” I am saying something new, but not much of something. Perhaps I’ll have more luck in the next paragraph. That’s always the hope, but never the reality. That’s what life is – a lot of hope and never any reality. Just move on to the next paragraph before this one gets any longer.

I still have drawn none of the make-up pictures for the last animation class I had. I worked a little bit on some songs recently. It’s still not working that well. I need a new computer. In reality, I need to redo the info on my computer. I’ve backed it up completely. It’s ready to go. I just don’t have the guts. I’ve had back-ups fail in the past and I don’t want to repeat that performance. I don’t want another Crash of ’97. If I don’t have that stuff, I have little proof I was here. Actually, it gives me no hope for the future. There is hope in works of artistic expression that I can constantly improve and make better. There is no hope in lost art – only fleeting memories of what used to be and could only be again with more work than it’s worth. Every time I listen to old songs, I only hear what isn’t there. I know what was there and know I’m the only one who hears it.