Saturday, February 14, 2015

OH EM GEE BECKY IT'S A FUCKING POST FOR ONCE!

So yea, posting. Whoopie right? Not writing some halfassed rap, or full assed but probably still amateur grade. Things didn't go as well as I'd hoped, feeling a buzzkill right now, been in super high spirits for about a month, nothing like remembering where you are. The lyrics two posts ago were directed at someone from my math class that I really hoped to get somewhere with, even though being friends is just as solid. It was a third time's the charm thing, of course trying a third time is also being a pushy fuck, wouldn't have even gotten to the second try if I wasn't as loopy as I've been. Now that I think about it, I've been feeling utterly amazing since I got the flu a bit ago, so it's probably more along the lines of two weeks, it's just felt like a month. Anyways, she has her own damage which won't be disclosed here, and finds relationships to be disasters. It didn't surprise me, that's how I interpreted my magical attraction to Directioners. They're lonely as fuck, some of them are smiley and all but deep down there's a hole dug by loneliness that they try to fill with cute boys. Probably a bad generalization but so far I don't believe I've been wrong. The girl from my english class is a Directioner, and I've seen her talk about how she feels like she has friends, but not like super close ones. I look at it in this light. For awhile now I've let my unconscious mind direct myself, you know going with gut and instinct over proper logic. Not just the let your heart be your guide, but don't think and just do, and then watch for the results. Leave behind any trace of despair when it comes to decision making, say yes when you can. I chalk that up to my knowledge of myself, my acceptance of myself, the fact that I probably spend more time sleeping a day than awake. Even awake I feel like I'm asleep. The unconscious knows more than it lets on and that's the problem, I never have an explanation for the attraction. I'd like to figure out why, but I'm not going to sit for four hours trying to interpret my feelings for a girl or anyone in general. I fall in love with reality anyways, with everything. It's hard not to at the point I've gotten to where being negative is overrated. Yet when I write a song I still feel negative, indefinitely. This came up in a conversation with one of my friends from work though, who I sadly don't see anymore because he found a legit job, and his band got signed. I intentionally focus on the positive. All I see is positive and potential in people, and I prefer to focus on their true potential. Not the potential that they show, but the potential supported by their passion. Not everybody grows up wanting to be in a high paying job. I was talking to one of my few chick friends about what she wants to do with her life. She said she wants to be an engineer. I asked her why. She didn't know why, she's like I guess because it's college. Like why? Why because it's college? Why not because you want to? I started talking to her more about it and she was talking about how she might like to be a fitness coach, which fits her. She's a swimmer that borders on olympic but didn't make the cut. Best female swimmer in my highschool though, or so I've heard. Like seriously, everyone has a potential but not everybody abuses it the way they should. Why go through all the work to be something that you're not going to be happy as, when you can spend that time working on getting everything you can out of life, so that you don't die early from stress and exhaust yourself everyday just because you don't really care for what you're doing. They say once you make something fun into a job it ruins it, but if that's where you truly belong then it's not going to feel like a job. Even if it was a job you're not going to care. I think that ends my halfway moan about my social situation.

All these quotes can be found somewhere on Spirit Science's facbook page

Imma stop at 4 before it becomes absurd and me sharing every picture

Rolling solo ain't that bad.

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