11:01 pm - Weds 6/1/05
Me, Trying Not To Be A Failure

I've been thinking "the bad thoughts" big-time lately.

Riding my bike to work yesterday, it hit me, as I was just a couple blocks from the store--"Any way you look at it, I am a major-league failure in life."

And it's true--There's no way I can look at the life I've created for myself thus far and see anything but a steaming load of failure (I mean, come on--Where's my wife and kids? Where's my dog? Where are my nice things? Where's my money? Where's my career? And I could go on, but I only bought two hours here at the internet cafe)--but there's another part of me that thinks, " Well DUH! That's why you had to come out here, Asshole".

This is me trying not to be a failure.

Not sure why my mind goes over and over stuff that is blindingly obvious, but I'm getting really fucking tired of it.

Sometimes I want say to my mind, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm a lazy failure, I suck as a human being, and I'm getting uglier by the minute. I got it already. So if you don't have anything new to say, why don't you just shut the fuck up already?".

But just now, mere moments ago, I did something that brightened my outlook a bit--I signed up for a Signing Agent class on the 16th.

I called a place earlier today about a loan-signing class, but it was just some guy and his wife teaching it (Actually, I think he teaches, and she takes the money), which made me nervous somehow (I want the weight of an organization to be behind something like this).

They were also not going to be in LA till Saturday the 25th, which was later than I wanted, the wrong day (I was hoping to get a class on Wednesday or Thursday), and at a hotel out by the airport (I was just out by the airport recently, to take my Notary oath at the County Clerks office, and it's quite a long way from my home location).

So I logged onto the National Notary website, and signed up for their Signing Agent class in L.A., which is .07 miles from my house (I'm paying for the convenience--It costs $50 more than what Buford and Sally Mae charge for their class--but it's worth it, to be taking the class earlier, to have it be walking distance from the house, and to not have to worry about getting time off from work).

This quiets, temporarily, the voice in my head--I am not a failure, maybe for the first time in my life, because I am taking active steps to acheive my goals.

It may sound corny, but I have to believe this--You're not a "failure" until you stop trying.

But anyway...

I continue to think about writing in here.

I think if the impulse is to write better and more honestly in here, that's a good thing. But sometimes that basically positive, creative impulse turns sour, and all I end up doing is getting mad at myself, seeing this as yet another arena where I'm "not doing it right" somehow.

I can't see any point in making this another thing to beat myself up over. This is not rocket science or brain surgury, or even acting. It's just something I do to pass the time. It's not really that important, to either one of us (Okay, it is to me, but you know what I mean)

Anyway...

In my "book journal" recently, I wrote this long thing about tv (A list of box sets of failed tv shows I'd like to get, my love for Joss Whedon, the new tv shows I watched this year, my consternation at the upcoming tv schedule, where all my "stories" have been shuffled around, etc. and so forth).

I will probably transcribe it in here once I'm up and running with my new computer. I think it will probably bore the crap out of everyone, but what can you do? This is the shit I'm interested in.

There's so much in here that I'm not comfortable saying...

For example, I find it hard to write at any length in here about how much I miss being touched, or touching someone. It's embarrassing.

I'm uncomfortable writing about being physically uncomfortable. Again, it's embarrassing (I think I also connect it with being "Boring Middle-Aged Guy": I don't want to be guy who's always complaining about bad back or his hemorrhoids, or what-have-you).

But I'm dying to be touched. I think about it all the time. Not just sex, but hugging someone, kissing, holding hands. Just being physically close to someone.

And as I write this, my eyes are burning with fatigue, my head hurts, and my feet are seriously itchy with the chronic Athlete's Foot I have from my filthy shower.

It's probably not fascinating stuff, but it's real. It's me. And if the point in here is to "be myself", that stuff should at least be represented in here, along with my misadventures in acting, or at the bookstore, or what-have-you.

More of my teeth are starting to go...on Sunday, a couple of teeth on the right side started acting up, zinging me with a little nerve action when I had anything more challenging than a spoonful of yogurt.

So I called Whittier Dental today, and have an appointment Friday morning--Hopefully, since I've kind of "jumped on it" this time out, it'll just be a matter of filling some cavities, and they won't need to go spelunking in my mouth.

Well, I'm sure I'm leaving something of vital importance out of this entry, but so it goes.

Oh...I've been thinking about comments.

I like getting comments very much, but have only rarely responded to them. But I read them all, and the really good ones stay in my head a long time.

So anyway, in the future, I plan on responding to more comments.

(I was just going to explain why I haven't responded to comments more often, but decided it sounded stupid, and who cares anyway?).

Well, I'm almost out of time here, and I want to give myself a few minutes to send a note to my "Notify list" people...

11:01 pm - Weds 6/1/05
Me, Trying Not To Be A Failure

I've been thinking "the bad thoughts" big-time lately.

Riding my bike to work yesterday, it hit me, as I was just a couple blocks from the store--"Any way you look at it, I am a major-league failure in life."

And it's true--There's no way I can look at the life I've created for myself thus far and see anything but a steaming load of failure (I mean, come on--Where's my wife and kids? Where's my dog? Where are my nice things? Where's my money? Where's my career? And I could go on, but I only bought two hours here at the internet cafe)--but there's another part of me that thinks, " Well DUH! That's why you had to come out here, Asshole".

This is me trying not to be a failure.

Not sure why my mind goes over and over stuff that is blindingly obvious, but I'm getting really fucking tired of it.

Sometimes I want say to my mind, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm a lazy failure, I suck as a human being, and I'm getting uglier by the minute. I got it already. So if you don't have anything new to say, why don't you just shut the fuck up already?".

But just now, mere moments ago, I did something that brightened my outlook a bit--I signed up for a Signing Agent class on the 16th.

I called a place earlier today about a loan-signing class, but it was just some guy and his wife teaching it (Actually, I think he teaches, and she takes the money), which made me nervous somehow (I want the weight of an organization to be behind something like this).

They were also not going to be in LA till Saturday the 25th, which was later than I wanted, the wrong day (I was hoping to get a class on Wednesday or Thursday), and at a hotel out by the airport (I was just out by the airport recently, to take my Notary oath at the County Clerks office, and it's quite a long way from my home location).

So I logged onto the National Notary website, and signed up for their Signing Agent class in L.A., which is .07 miles from my house (I'm paying for the convenience--It costs $50 more than what Buford and Sally Mae charge for their class--but it's worth it, to be taking the class earlier, to have it be walking distance from the house, and to not have to worry about getting time off from work).

This quiets, temporarily, the voice in my head--I am not a failure, maybe for the first time in my life, because I am taking active steps to acheive my goals.

It may sound corny, but I have to believe this--You're not a "failure" until you stop trying.

But anyway...

I continue to think about writing in here.

I think if the impulse is to write better and more honestly in here, that's a good thing. But sometimes that basically positive, creative impulse turns sour, and all I end up doing is getting mad at myself, seeing this as yet another arena where I'm "not doing it right" somehow.

I can't see any point in making this another thing to beat myself up over. This is not rocket science or brain surgury, or even acting. It's just something I do to pass the time. It's not really that important, to either one of us (Okay, it is to me, but you know what I mean)

Anyway...

In my "book journal" recently, I wrote this long thing about tv (A list of box sets of failed tv shows I'd like to get, my love for Joss Whedon, the new tv shows I watched this year, my consternation at the upcoming tv schedule, where all my "stories" have been shuffled around, etc. and so forth).

I will probably transcribe it in here once I'm up and running with my new computer. I think it will probably bore the crap out of everyone, but what can you do? This is the shit I'm interested in.

There's so much in here that I'm not comfortable saying...

For example, I find it hard to write at any length in here about how much I miss being touched, or touching someone. It's embarrassing.

I'm uncomfortable writing about being physically uncomfortable. Again, it's embarrassing (I think I also connect it with being "Boring Middle-Aged Guy": I don't want to be guy who's always complaining about bad back or his hemorrhoids, or what-have-you).

But I'm dying to be touched. I think about it all the time. Not just sex, but hugging someone, kissing, holding hands. Just being physically close to someone.

And as I write this, my eyes are burning with fatigue, my head hurts, and my feet are seriously itchy with the chronic Athlete's Foot I have from my filthy shower.

It's probably not fascinating stuff, but it's real. It's me. And if the point in here is to "be myself", that stuff should at least be represented in here, along with my misadventures in acting, or at the bookstore, or what-have-you.

More of my teeth are starting to go...on Sunday, a couple of teeth on the right side started acting up, zinging me with a little nerve action when I had anything more challenging than a spoonful of yogurt.

So I called Whittier Dental today, and have an appointment Friday morning--Hopefully, since I've kind of "jumped on it" this time out, it'll just be a matter of filling some cavities, and they won't need to go spelunking in my mouth.

Well, I'm sure I'm leaving something of vital importance out of this entry, but so it goes.

Oh...I've been thinking about comments.

I like getting comments very much, but have only rarely responded to them. But I read them all, and the really good ones stay in my head a long time.

So anyway, in the future, I plan on responding to more comments.

(I was just going to explain why I haven't responded to comments more often, but decided it sounded stupid, and who cares anyway?).

Well, I'm almost out of time here, and I want to give myself a few minutes to send a note to my "Notify list" people...

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