Stuff. . . and unrelated stuff.

It just occurred to me that good writers can make even ordinary, everyday events, seem like something incredibly fascinating. I know, I'm late in figuring this out, but I think its one of the reasons I love reading stories from people who ride buses.

Another thing that occurred to me is the fact that my blogging is a lot like the way I think. Unstructured and constantly jumping from one thing to another, never finishing the current thought. I somehow manage to tie one thought to a completely different and unrelated thought which probably makes my writing hard as hell to figure out.

I sad. Not quite sure why. I have almost everything that I always used to dream of having when I was younger. I used to wonder what it would be like to come home at odd hours of the morning, or be able to drive anywhere I please, anytime I please. I used to tell myself what I would do if I had money to spend, or if I had a girlfriend. The thing is, I have most of these things now. I have friends who I know won't screw me over, I have a wonderful girlfriend who takes care of me, I have a car and a job. . . Yet I can't honestly say I'm happy.

Maybe its the fact that I've wanted these things for so long and I've had to work for everything. Not a single one of those things came easy. I suppose I could say that I lucked into a car and a job, but neither is particularly good.

I can't explain why I'm unhappy right now, but this is yet another blog entry that makes me sound totally emo. Bleh. Again.