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Who Am I?
Just completed two episodes of House. One from third season and the one I missed last week on Hulu. Im quite glad Fox decided to give House a week hiatus just so we could all catch up because of the Yankees vs Angels game.
Im in a pensive/contemplative mood and epiphanized that I really don't know if I am who people and I think I am. Quite perplexing to say the least. On one hand, Im the Ale8 swigging nerd who loves technology and champions whomever I tend to be working for. Except...Mentally, Im not. I hide a lot of things that not a lot of people see. For the existing present, Im extremely anti-social, which this mood will pass in due time, but inside my consciousness, Im frightened, lonely, recessed, and socially awkward, which fuels the fire for my current impetic mood. I guess deep down, there is some solace to being alone but knowing that only I can really count on myself to come through for me on anything is quite befuddling to my conscious. That when I give to someone something so precious as my trust, time, and companionship or even so lacklusterly materialistic as my money or an item of meager merchandisal triviality, I give it wholeheartedly. So far I have never seen as much as a hint of return on my investments. Now Im scripting this with almost complete objectivity, and I quote the almost as every single word in any given publication en masse produced or not has bias, after a heavy dose of sleep deprivation. Now I would love to scream of my plight from the rooftops, however societal curriculi force suppression of true freedom of speech, and the knowledge of my own blatant futility would ravage the frustrations and rile up obstinant mental bricks that would imprint themselves on my forehead from repeated contact. I just don't get it. Humanity confounds me. My mediocre attempts to actually induce friendship leaves behind the vestiges of mere tolerance, not a true liking. And the self realization of this tolerance fuels again another inferno of social mental destruction. I have yet to decide on my next course of action, as there is no real remedy to my predicament. My external facades are holding steady after two decades of constant attack. Yet the mental morale is definitely corroding itself to shambles.
tl;dr Spam has layers, and is seriously questioning existence and the role of internal perception versus external stimulaic personae.
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