Space Mining

These ores won't put themselves in my cargo bays.

Not sure if I'm ready to come clean yet.

This is a man, incidentally.
LET THAT BE KNOWN.

At Mom's, with dog. Nice hot day outside. Alone for the moment, though the dog occasionally recovers from being furry in the sun long enough to plop a ball at my feet.

Not sure what there is to write about. The iPhone my sister sent me is being jailbroken by my good roommate for a little over half the price I was going to pay. And unlocked, hopefully. Which means I'll be able to use it soon, for a variety of things!

Lol paying to do something you should do yourself.
It's literally downloading a program, plugging your iPhone into your computer, running it, running an app on your iPhone, then waiting.

Feel compelled to read the iPhone warranty, though I'm sure it's all things I already know. Feels like good practice to get into. Sometimes you skip past the warranty, saying to yourself over and over, "I don't want to read this shit, all I want to do is play games and enjoy on my own terms." It's not like playing a game is a foreign act, and the internet coda is already ingrained in a person like me. Respect other people, don't be a dick, don't take anything that isn't yours. So far as I'm sure.

Errr, what?
Are you reading the iPhone warranty hoping it'll contain such universal wisdom as "don't be a dick"?
I'm pretty sure it's legal terms and stuff.

No major fights yet, but the three day mark has passed. Time for work, though hopefully I won't make too much of an ass out of myself. Seem to be expressing a kind of a--

Music track changed, lost my train of thought. Stand by.

EDITING & YOU.

Seem to be expressing a kind of autistic language through my characters as of late. My world of RP's become indecisive. Can't decide where I stand with MMOs and the Secret World, how much I want to commit.

The Secret World.
AKA 20 bucks I will never get back.
That is 20 Hershey Bars I am not going to be eating.
It was an MMO that touted itself as being completely different.
It took place in the modern day, dealt with cults and shit--
and yet it forgot to actually be different in all that.
Typical grinding MMO yet now I'm clicking on a guy once to shoot instead of clicking on a guy once to swing sword.
Whoaaaaa

Want to get back into panfandom on Dreamwidth, but there's a whole lot of baggage there, just as there's a whole bunch of memories. That and I seem oddly reticent to write applications. When did I start resisting this so much? I used to commit to characters like nothing, write up an app in a day and send it out even if the game was fated to die a day later. Seems like I'm resisting a whole bunch of work. Need to find a way of working through that stuff. I mean, considering that this is stuff I want to DO, I don't see what the problem is, really.

Yeah--
Faggot.

You know. I wouldn't mind so much having another roommate or two if they weren't men. Or in this case, boys.

WOULDN'T MIND INFINITE ROOMMATES IF THEY WERE SEXY LADIES says every guy on Livejournal ever.
Just kidding all guys with blogs are gay.

I like women. Hell, I have this deep, Yeats-like, unrequited love for them, but that sort of affection isn't relevant to this kind of conversation. I like women and I respect women, and I make an effort to make myself agreeable to them. And I think for the most part, I'm one of the few men in the world that isn't waging a battle against the opposite sex.

AKA I'm a total puss.

Maybe it's terribly naive to think I could pull it off, but living with another woman, not necessarily my girlfriend but just another person? Might not be so bad. It'd mean less slovenlyness on my part, most likely. I wouldn't wander the house in my boxer shorts. I'd look presentable if only to give credit to my upbringing. It'd be nice to have an excuse to take better care of myself, and my appearance.

Why do you need an excuse, m8?
If you want to do that shit just do it.
You don't need some slut to compel you
GROW SOME BALLS
GET SOME FIRE IN YOUR BELLY
GET FUCKING ANGRY FOR ONCE

FYI, I'm shaving my head on April 3rd. For reasons.

FOR REASONS HURRR I'M SO DEEP
Man I told my EVE Online group why I was leaving them for a different one.
That's a fucking video game, man.
You gotta do better than "reasons".
"You guys suck and don't do anything and I don't know why you split into a PVE and PVP corp when there are like 15 people in this corporation in the first place so bye" was my reasoning to them.

I miss the goddamn cord to my goddamn headphones. I need music. I need it.

It costs $15 plus shipping, or plus the ferry ticket to Vancouver to get to the Bose store. Ugh.

I hate how coffee makes me feel. It's energy without enthusiasm. It's tiredness while moving. It makes me feel like an animated corpse. 

So buy the cord.
So don't drink coffee.
YOUR PROBLEMS
HAVE READY SOLUTIONS.

Missed it. Missed everything today.

Missed the deadline. Missed the post office (closed on weekends), won't be able to send the comic book family wanted me to send. Missed the talk about game's journalism among all the other events happening today at the Games without Fontiers thing. Missed Matt's play. Missed the swimming pool. That's what happens when you wake up at 11:00 and spend the whole morning/afternoon in, walking around being a complete basketcase.

Walked around school, counseling building, closed. Not open on weekends, maybe. Everything's closed after 5:00, which is when I got here. Nothing's open.

Do you live in North Carolina?
When I never ventured outside my house this wasn't a problem but now that I do I quickly learned nothing is open ever.

Walked around school, counseling building, closed. Not open on weekends, maybe. Everything's closed after 5:00, which is when I got here. Nothing's open.

Talking to myself. Hurting myself with my own words, conversation with self turning violent. Wanting to hit a wall, or hurt myself. When I realized I missed everything I wanted to do today, I wanted to take the book in my hands and hit it against a wall. But I didn't have the energy. So now it's just self-hatred, bubbling up from my own lips.

You're a cheeky kunt m8

I need help. I need to talk to people. I need to keep exercising my body so there isn't all this pent-up aggression.

But that's not going to happen, because I've fallen into a loop that I can't climb out from. And it's a loop that's going to kill me.

Maybe I was wrong. It's just getting worse. It's my own bad decisions that have gotten here, my own stupid pride. I keep going back on the verge of self-harm.

Nothing sticks.

Woe betides me I guess.
These new guys are offering to move all my assets to a new location.
I'm sure just handing them a 1/8th increase to their corporation assets won't mean some of mine magically disappear in the move.

I think I'll tell them I have no assets that aren't liquid and therefore always with me.
I don't want anyone worrying about me.

That's why I don't like asking for help. Even if I need it. People who know me, know that.

LOADS OF MINERALS.
Maybe I should liquidate them.
Just move my blueprints.
I'll hang onto it all until I'm sure they're not twats though.

On my worst days, I try to protect other people from myself. I tell them that things are okay. I convince myself.

But I'm kidding, really. Telling lies, which I hate. It just twists things when I do. And I know: Things won't be okay until I start making goals for myself again. Things won't be okay until I stop hiding behind excuses and make myself into someone who wants to be here.

I just didn't want anyone to be disappointed, or worried about me. There's still time to fix things, isn't there? Isn't there still time? Always waiting till the deadline to get my act together, and when there's no deadline, I fall behind.

My mind has desperately been looking for role models,

You're in college.
Role models?
Really bro?
If you need one at the age of 20 or whatever you are just invent one.

something to justify this supreme lack of drive, this lack of self. I look into the stories of younger days, looking into self-styled heroes and protagonists in their own story. It's okay, they were slackers too, they were confused and they couldn't find jobs and their friends worried about them too.

Some people can laugh about the times when they make earnest promises to themselves and then break them on the next day. Not me. Nope, I can't let myself do that, I have to make myself suffer for it. I have to guilt myself so hard that I run away again. Goddamnit, when am I going to break the cycle?

WHAT AM I FIGHTING FOOOOOOOOOOOOOR

Matt invited me to see the rehearsal of the play, the rehearsal with the script I wrote. The script I meant to modify and send to him, and I can't get my act together enough to do that. Twenty minutes before they were going to put it on, I was cooking breakfast for myself and looking at the clock.

There's a games summit thing at my university, games without frontiers, talks I want to be in on, and I haven't gotten dressed for the day. What is wrong with me? Why can't I see beyond my own self-indulgences?

Have you considered looking into depression?
Because you sound like you're depressed, maybe.

69%.

Everyone needs to stop telling me I'm brilliant.

We should be friends.
You have a pathological need to be called a cunt and I have a pathological need to call people cunts.
We'd get on I feel.
But you are a cunt.
Like even if I didn't call everyone a cunt I'd still call you a cunt.
Also that's the entire entry.
69% is given without context.
I assume it's a grade for something.
In which case whatashame I never got a score that low in college.

Start.

My life feels different than it was from August, but nothing's changed much. It's shifted.

 My life feels different from 2 days ago.
2 days ago I discovered a Youtube channel that has like half of Mystery Science Theater 3000 uploaded.
Where has this been my entire internet existence?
 I can space mine and make spaceships in one tiny window
watch that show in another
If I didn't have to eat and drink and go to work (starting again next week I mean SPRING BREAK WOOOO) I wouldn't move again.

 This must be a reoccuring thing for everyone: The slow vertigo moment of realizing that you've been pushed into making decisions on your own, being counted on to follow up on meaningful decisions. Self-reliance. All of a sudden I'm reminded of the dead cat on the roof joke: Instead of telling the owner on vacation that the cat is dead, tell him that the cat was stuck on the roof and couldn't get down; then the next day, that cat fell off, is at the vet for surgery; next day, the cat is dead. Preparing the owner for anticipation of shock and grief, rather than hitting them full in the face with it.

Like that time I thought I was signing up for a day at my favorite school only to find out I had a case of sudden onset dyslexia and signed up for a borderline hood school?
Know what I did?
WHATASHAME I'LL LIVE.
AND INDEED I DID
END OF STORY AND 91 DOLLARS RICHER.

Despite all the slow baby steps of Vancouver Film School, going into apartment life with two other dudes, and finding myself back on this cozy little island, I still haven't made the transition. I still don't know what I'm doing yet.

Here's what I haven't been telling anyone: 

Who the fuck keeps trying to log in as me?
IS THIS YOUR DOING, PHONE?
YES
STOP DOING THAT.
I'M USING MY GOOGLE ACCOUNT YOU FUCK

I need to do something. I need to get out of here.

Twenty-three and what the fuck is there to show for it?

There are people my age or less that are already making beautiful things, or participating in something amazing.

Not usually.

I'd offer you an extended free trial of EVE Online so you could calm the fuck down and make spaceships but I don't want you to embarrass me.

Got back into online roleplaying.

I think I do it more for the social interaction than the RP itself.

I need the social circle. I need the people with shared interests, and the nice bonus on the side is throwing in and coming up with some cool scenarios. I don't take it too too seriously, and I get to show off my writing ability to some extent, and the characters I enjoy in the literature I read.

By "literature (he) reads" he means manga.

Funny how priorities change on the things you used to love.

I miss Dad's call the other day. Woman who minds the office accidentally hung up on him. Sucks - would've liked to talk to him. Need to get into the habit of remembering his number.

There's a few things I want to buy when I finish up this summer job. First and foremost, I want a new computer - a desktop computer I could game on, design levels with, do things I wouldn't normally be able to do with a crummy Macbook. I want to start weaning myself of Apple products... letting them fade from my life, and start fresh. I want to quit Facebook, someday, hopefully, maybe.

Can't make spaceships with a Macbook, m8.

Or can you?

I want to stop fucking up what should evidently be "my future", and maybe caring more about that sort of stuff. Except for the part where I don't, not really. This fucking Writer's course is nothing more than me hoping, hoping that I wean myself from the deadly behaviour wherein I see opportunities and freak the fuck out. I see what I can do with myself and intrinsically reject it. I see places where I can cash in on my interests and my enthusiasm and I say, "You're not good enough. You'll never be good enough. Stop. Now."

Must be tough.
Can you not end sentences in italics?
Makes it hard to turn off.

It's not my self-worth. It's not my doubt in my writing ability. It's some ingrained, horrid, fucking evil voice that just won't go away, that hides itself like a fucking virus. It comes in when I'm weakest and tries to convince me to die. And I won't let it do that. I won't let it accomplish its goals in making me kill myself, no matter what. I promise.

I'm not suicidal. I don't have suicidal tendencies. I just have hatred within me, a form of hatred that turns in on myself like a devouring snake. It is ever-tangible, lurking beneath the surface of my psyche, waiting to lash out. I don't know how to get rid of it. I don't know how to turn myself into a human being capable of great things.

Yeah man

I don't even know what to say to this really.

Let's see if I can find an entry where he isn't a whining bitch.

Nope, can't do it.

Well.

Guess that's another entry, then.