They say plagiarism is the ultimate form of flattery. My my, I should be pretty stoked by now. Here's the original if you really want to know.
Anyway, I realized I haven't really addressed the readers here before in the first person voice. So I figured I may as well take on a change of things just for this once and talk to you in a casual, non-convoluted, supremely unromantic, schizophrenic tone. Look, I've even enabled comments this time round for civil self introductions.
*awkward wave*
Moving on, thanks for dropping by even though I don't update much when I really should. It's pretty much the fundamental problem with me all these while - Procrastination. It's so seminal it deserves a capital P, and suddenly it finds itself in the ranks of other important Ps like Politics, Power and Paris (Hilton).
I've been putting off so many things when I shouldn't. Like my work, this blog, answering my phone calls and returning messages, my health, music, photography and so much more. I find it's always easier to hit the snooze button these days on things that really should matter. Then again, I'm never one to hold on too tightly on social attachments because of the amount of investment that is required from me. Non-committal yearning is like a train wreck waiting to happen. There's simply not enough emanating from me to balance off the equation.
Like friends for instance. Sometimes I wonder at night if all my friends matter to me at all. I realized that they don't, and it scares me sometimes how little I need to survive. In the same way, I think I'm a really bad friend to most people. I'm the negative troll the motivational gurus warned you about when you wanted to get your act together. I'm caustic and probably toxic as well. This goes hand in hand with my inability to be contactable, and the film of dragginess that enshrouds my being is sticky, unending and socially parasitic. My friends are all getting tired of me.
This is why I need new friends that will associate me with optimism and laughter and fun and love.
But Miranda July was right about friends: we all think that the friends we have now are the starter friends, people we meet on the way to our real friends who are purportedly way better in all respects than those starters. And then as we got older, we realized that no, those are our real friends. Forever.
And I'm really not sure what to feel about that.
Anyway, I realized I haven't really addressed the readers here before in the first person voice. So I figured I may as well take on a change of things just for this once and talk to you in a casual, non-convoluted, supremely unromantic, schizophrenic tone. Look, I've even enabled comments this time round for civil self introductions.
*awkward wave*
Moving on, thanks for dropping by even though I don't update much when I really should. It's pretty much the fundamental problem with me all these while - Procrastination. It's so seminal it deserves a capital P, and suddenly it finds itself in the ranks of other important Ps like Politics, Power and Paris (Hilton).
I've been putting off so many things when I shouldn't. Like my work, this blog, answering my phone calls and returning messages, my health, music, photography and so much more. I find it's always easier to hit the snooze button these days on things that really should matter. Then again, I'm never one to hold on too tightly on social attachments because of the amount of investment that is required from me. Non-committal yearning is like a train wreck waiting to happen. There's simply not enough emanating from me to balance off the equation.
Like friends for instance. Sometimes I wonder at night if all my friends matter to me at all. I realized that they don't, and it scares me sometimes how little I need to survive. In the same way, I think I'm a really bad friend to most people. I'm the negative troll the motivational gurus warned you about when you wanted to get your act together. I'm caustic and probably toxic as well. This goes hand in hand with my inability to be contactable, and the film of dragginess that enshrouds my being is sticky, unending and socially parasitic. My friends are all getting tired of me.
This is why I need new friends that will associate me with optimism and laughter and fun and love.
But Miranda July was right about friends: we all think that the friends we have now are the starter friends, people we meet on the way to our real friends who are purportedly way better in all respects than those starters. And then as we got older, we realized that no, those are our real friends. Forever.
And I'm really not sure what to feel about that.
