From: Bellingham, Washington, United States
About me: I do stuff. I live in my head too much of the time. I don't eat cow.
a mildly amusing and hellaciously self-indulgent tool in which I attempt to maintain a functioning level of sanity.
Saturday, February 18, 2006,8:38 AM
I'm an Emotional Fucktard (subtitle: The Lust for Destruction is Hereditary.)
Listen. I know I'm supposed to be the oh-so-very mature one in the group(s....yes, plural. what with the social whoring and all that). And I am, indeed, more mature than most folks my age. But swear to sweet Jebus...I am no fucking adult. I'm not really sure I'll ever be. And y'know...I'm glad of it.
I have one friend (ok, ex-friend for now) who recently turned eighteen and is busy freaking on the "I'm an adult now! You can't tell me what to do! Watch me assert my independence!" trip. It's cute. Cute and sooooo annoying. Hence the hopefully temporary ex-friendness.
Anyhoo. Sidetracking, as usual.
I guess my point is, I STILL have all the emotional maturity of a thirteen year old boy. I can maintain my temper, and let things roll of my back, but I am a fucking idiot about a lot of things. Which is okay, the Dorian is only human, after all.
But I could do better. Really.
I just don't really want to. I like being selfish and stubborn about particular things, I get a sick sort of giddiness out of having certain irrational opinions for illogical reasons, and I like to tell gross jokes about dead hookers. That's just how it is for now. I don't want to settle. I don't want to change my schedule or the chaotic, strange breakneck speeds at which Le Squidge and I travel for anyone or anything. I want to maintain my self-indulgent ways. See? Immature.
And I just so do not fucking care anymore.
The recent lack of neuroticism is nice, though. Don't miss that.
Don't get me wrong, I still rock it politically and am doing the social activism thing. I was actually educating some men I work with on the downfalls of western medicine in the birthing sector, the merits of homebirth and the magic of Ina May Gaskin (I am super gung-ho on empowered childbirth. not like women's bodies were built to do it or anything...). I also persuaded them that the majority of feminists do not, in fact, hate men. They just want to own their souls. Or is that just me? I forget sometimes. ...I kid. I care about others, but as far as my personal life goes...Bitch. Do what I want, how I want.
On that note....DUDE! My final project at school next quarter? Gonna build a TREBUCHET!!!!! Yes, I know you're all jealous. Try to maintain your envious rage. Please. Anyways, the only way I could be more excited about next quarter is if we were studying structural integrity and materials....Which would mean fire and breaking MORE stuff....Oh, wait, we TOTALLY ARE. And there will be more trig...ohhhhh, yes. Much more. So happy.
I have one friend (ok, ex-friend for now) who recently turned eighteen and is busy freaking on the "I'm an adult now! You can't tell me what to do! Watch me assert my independence!" trip. It's cute. Cute and sooooo annoying. Hence the hopefully temporary ex-friendness.
Anyhoo. Sidetracking, as usual.
I guess my point is, I STILL have all the emotional maturity of a thirteen year old boy. I can maintain my temper, and let things roll of my back, but I am a fucking idiot about a lot of things. Which is okay, the Dorian is only human, after all.
But I could do better. Really.
I just don't really want to. I like being selfish and stubborn about particular things, I get a sick sort of giddiness out of having certain irrational opinions for illogical reasons, and I like to tell gross jokes about dead hookers. That's just how it is for now. I don't want to settle. I don't want to change my schedule or the chaotic, strange breakneck speeds at which Le Squidge and I travel for anyone or anything. I want to maintain my self-indulgent ways. See? Immature.
And I just so do not fucking care anymore.
The recent lack of neuroticism is nice, though. Don't miss that.
Don't get me wrong, I still rock it politically and am doing the social activism thing. I was actually educating some men I work with on the downfalls of western medicine in the birthing sector, the merits of homebirth and the magic of Ina May Gaskin (I am super gung-ho on empowered childbirth. not like women's bodies were built to do it or anything...). I also persuaded them that the majority of feminists do not, in fact, hate men. They just want to own their souls. Or is that just me? I forget sometimes. ...I kid. I care about others, but as far as my personal life goes...Bitch. Do what I want, how I want.
On that note....DUDE! My final project at school next quarter? Gonna build a TREBUCHET!!!!! Yes, I know you're all jealous. Try to maintain your envious rage. Please. Anyways, the only way I could be more excited about next quarter is if we were studying structural integrity and materials....Which would mean fire and breaking MORE stuff....Oh, wait, we TOTALLY ARE. And there will be more trig...ohhhhh, yes. Much more. So happy.
