Let's pretend it's summer
Finished yet another paper today and got about 3 hours of quality studying. I'm still nowhere near the end, as I have one paper left, an electronic journal to finish (or start), and still three midterms left to take. But still, even if my paper is a contrived piece of shit, it's enough to know that I finished it and even if I'm going to do pretty poorly on the final tomorrow, I'll get at least a C+, which is more than I need to rest easy once this session is over. Now, about those other two finals...
I don't know why, but this blogspot thing inspires me to write. Perhaps this is a subconscious sign that I as a person need movement in my life, and I can't be tied down to one specific area for too long. Or it's just this blogspot format is so pretty and clean. At least I'm writing, which is good. I'm aware that I spend too much time writing on these kinds of on-line journals when I could be channeling my creative energies in writing something more useful and worth my time, like a novel or even a geography paper. Really, though, this is very cathartic for me; a pattern I've noticed in the past and now is that when I'm faced with stressful times, I come on here and write long-winded entries about everything and nothing, and when I'm done, I'm more or less relaxed and more focused than I was prior to writing.
Maybe I do need to get laid after all.
Got yet another number today at the cafe. This place is seriously becoming my base of operations, or maybe it's just timing. About three weeks ago, I decided to swear off females for the time being, as they contributed nothing constructive to my life and caused me more problems than I knew how to handle. I've said that in the past, but I've never meant it, because 1) I'm a grade-A chump and 2) after all was said and done, I still had to reconcile with the fact that I enjoyed the attention. Not sure which event triggered it recently, but I genuinely do not care; it's a void inside of me that continues to fill itself up. I've gotten to a point that my caring too much has degenerated into me not caring at all.
But somehow, girls are able to pick up on this. This is not the so-called "asshole" angle per se, but it's in the same ballpark. They pick up on this, and all of a sudden, will give time of day and so much more. If this happened to me a year ago, I'd probably be ecstatic, but then again, a year ago would result in a Robert that still cared. I've failed to call all of them, because I start thinking to myself, "I just want to get laid," but then I immediately feel bad about that, so I think, "no, what I really want is a relationship," but then immediately nix that because frankly, I don't know what I want at this point.
Therein lies the paradox. Since I don't care, I'm being met with things I would normally care about. This change of pace and momentary excitement will trigger excitement in me, which then dissolves whatever mojo (or lack thereof) that produced said trigger in the first place. Rinse, lather, and repeat. It's a vicious cycle. For now, I'll take the fact that I'm romantically content.
If someone would like to set that into a mathematical equation, you're more than welcome to. The colder and more bluntly rational I become, the more women will flock to me!
...Just that too bad, I don't, you know, care about that.
[edit] Or do I?
FUCK.
I don't know why, but this blogspot thing inspires me to write. Perhaps this is a subconscious sign that I as a person need movement in my life, and I can't be tied down to one specific area for too long. Or it's just this blogspot format is so pretty and clean. At least I'm writing, which is good. I'm aware that I spend too much time writing on these kinds of on-line journals when I could be channeling my creative energies in writing something more useful and worth my time, like a novel or even a geography paper. Really, though, this is very cathartic for me; a pattern I've noticed in the past and now is that when I'm faced with stressful times, I come on here and write long-winded entries about everything and nothing, and when I'm done, I'm more or less relaxed and more focused than I was prior to writing.
Maybe I do need to get laid after all.
Got yet another number today at the cafe. This place is seriously becoming my base of operations, or maybe it's just timing. About three weeks ago, I decided to swear off females for the time being, as they contributed nothing constructive to my life and caused me more problems than I knew how to handle. I've said that in the past, but I've never meant it, because 1) I'm a grade-A chump and 2) after all was said and done, I still had to reconcile with the fact that I enjoyed the attention. Not sure which event triggered it recently, but I genuinely do not care; it's a void inside of me that continues to fill itself up. I've gotten to a point that my caring too much has degenerated into me not caring at all.
But somehow, girls are able to pick up on this. This is not the so-called "asshole" angle per se, but it's in the same ballpark. They pick up on this, and all of a sudden, will give time of day and so much more. If this happened to me a year ago, I'd probably be ecstatic, but then again, a year ago would result in a Robert that still cared. I've failed to call all of them, because I start thinking to myself, "I just want to get laid," but then I immediately feel bad about that, so I think, "no, what I really want is a relationship," but then immediately nix that because frankly, I don't know what I want at this point.
Therein lies the paradox. Since I don't care, I'm being met with things I would normally care about. This change of pace and momentary excitement will trigger excitement in me, which then dissolves whatever mojo (or lack thereof) that produced said trigger in the first place. Rinse, lather, and repeat. It's a vicious cycle. For now, I'll take the fact that I'm romantically content.
If someone would like to set that into a mathematical equation, you're more than welcome to. The colder and more bluntly rational I become, the more women will flock to me!
...Just that too bad, I don't, you know, care about that.
[edit] Or do I?
FUCK.
posted by 99thdream at 12:05 AM
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