onlyoblivion

Yeah, yeah, I know: Im terrible at staying in touch with people. Maybe Ive just reached a new nadir of laziness during these last few months, but it feels like its getting harder to do anything anymore, and thanks to the fact that I just give less of a shit now than I ever have before, nothing gets done. I have a huge laundry list of simple, seemingly-painless or even potentially enjoyable tasks Id like to complete (like to, mind you; this is stuff I want to do for myself, not even things I need to do for someone else), and yet I consistently find a way to duck out, dodge even the most trivial task, and run screaming to find some refuge in sleep or fantasy. The result is that I neglect the friendships that have brought me my most treasured brushes with true happiness, whatever social, artistic, or technical skills I once possessed have surely atrophied to the point of uselessness, my professional prospects leave me with visions of French fries and toilet brushes dancing in my brain in short, my life has all the momentum of a truck sunk to its floorboards in a Mississippi bayou. What the fuck is wrong with me, anyway? Can I blame this on wonky brain chemicals? Past lives? Childhood trauma? Even if I could summon the courage and energy to be the model friend, the Renaissance man, the perfect worker, would it matter? Would the effort yield a life I would enjoy living, or has God deemed me a man unfit for any measure of earthly satisfaction regardless of how hard I work? Is any of this bullshit worth it?

I just dont know anymore. But the ultimatum I set for myself was that I have to produce something before I can give up entirely; since that something will very likely involve writing, and because SG helps to motivate my writing, expect to see more of me around here. I love you guys; I really dont want my slothful inclinations to cost me you, too.