fallfromgrace

I've sometimes thought what kind of profession I would like to have. You'd think at 24, or 30, or 40, a person would have these things figured out, but you'd be wrong and unemployed. Still, there's worse things to be I suppose, if you can live with the fact that you're poor and your chief goal in life is to breathe.

I try to think I'm funny, which works out reasonably well for me in my head. It's not as if I'm very dull and boring; I'm just dull and boring. In my defense most of my social interactions of late are the kind where I'm talking to people I've met on the internet and my mind is trying to figure out how to use a backspace in the real world.

So I'm left with brilliant things to say, astoundingly funny insights, but I can't commandeer the conversation long enough to get people to be enamored by my astute and uncanny wit.

All that to say, I'm thinking I might want to try my hand at comedy. Or writing. One of those two "nonreal" jobs where you get to do something fantastic and wonderful yet you're really just screwing around most of the time.

Barring that, I think I'll work for the government, because I hear that's as close as not working as you can actually get, and they'll hire anyone.

I had the priviledge of meeting Geckogirl last night at the Rickshaw, and that was a memorable experience. Many people were there, and it was fun.

Now, if I'm going to be a writer, that above paragraph is going the need some work. For one, it's modest; "memorable"? who talks like that? "many people where there, and it was fun"? Sure, it's clear and concise, albeit fairly nondescriptive. But the sentence didn't engage me writing it, so I'm damn as hell-fuck sure it's not going to engage any reader with an education past "Together We Go".

I could move next week if I really wanted to move. I really do want to move, but I'd like to do so with a little bit more than no money whatsoever. See, I'm actually planning on staying in these new-fangled commercial housing constructs called "motels", whereas I'm used to crawling into the backseat of my car and sleeping for 2 hours, then driving another 3 hours until I'm reasonably certain I've endangered the lives of myself and every other motorist at least 12 times, then I repeat the process. This method worked well for me as it took me 26 hours to get from San Diego to Bellingham 2 years ago, so it should take me around 76 hours to get from Bellingham to Baltimore. However, I've been told such reckless behavior (Reckless? it's not like I'm juggling knives and babies, just the simple tasks of driving and sleeping) would be worrisome to certain "girlfriendish" parties and that by avoiding these I would relieve most of these anxieties.

However, I have a strong desire not to spend money. I figure I have wasted enough in my life, thank you, and I don't want to pay someone for the priviledge of sleeping in a bed that someone else has slept, and possibly cum, in. I'm always suspicious of places where the sheets are stiffer than the most starched business shirt.

I got more to update, but I need coffee and Trevallion needs food.