Just another blog?

Well, okay then! here's something new, because fuck this, fuck you, and fuck that pile of pancakes you've got next to your laptop! damn straight, I'm in your computer, looking on your porn, and emailing lists of it to your exwife! No actually, I'm not, though that WOULD be pretty impressive at this point. Actually, I'm just incredibly bored with the whole prospect of multiple blogs, searching different sites and all of that, plus, hey, who know? I'm might just get a following here on pastebin if I work hard enough on writing whatever the fuck is on my mind! this include IRL stuff that normally, I'd not care abbout sharing, because if you've read my other stuff, the fictional thread stories and all of that, these aren't things I want spread around. But then again, pastebin is lie the tiny interent... So what're ya going to do about it, right?

But, I'm sure this place has a pretty supportive community. But 'nough of that bullshit! Let's get to the nitty gritty! I work for MetroPCS as a sign waver, for about 9 an hour. for aroud 4.5 hours a day, five days a week. So, I don't know if I'm getting the shitty end of the sick or not! I keep forgetting about the exclamation points! though, I can never truly figure out just what the fuck is really going on there, I am kind of expecting a raise in the near future, I'd have to talk to my boss about it.

What else? Oh yeah, this one woman I had trouble with in the past work at the grocer store in the same plaza as  Metro, so we talk on occassion though I can't really tell who's more on edge, her or me! We get along well enough though, I just don't want to talk to her that much, but I already have something in place that'll cut that tie pretty quickly... All I did was add her on facebook, though I highly doubt she'll accept, so it's all good in either case!

Love your projects

So, I decided to leave Chapter 8 as is, I figure I can always leave the ending a cliff hanger and work on Book 4 of the Dorikame Saga, which is my one true love. It kinda feels like I've been working on it forever, you know? but that's the thing about writing books, you never truly want anything you start to ever have an ending. That's what I'm guessing G.R.R. Martin feels like when he finishes writing a book, 'How can I make this thing even better than the last one?' that's a question that a lot of coders also ask themselves I'm guessing? Though, I don't think I'll get many replies, lol. The thing is, I'm thinking of writing parts of the book either through email, because that's the format I've been working with for so long, it usually makes for the best way of doing this, though I know that email can be hacked, but since there are so many parts to chapter 8, it's just mind bogglingly repetitive, I like to think of it as the new way of doing things.
But, that's the thing about this process, you have to have a great story closer, something that ties up every single loose end you can think of, although there is always the option of leaving a few loose ends, from which to create spin off series... The stories I created three years ago, not that many of you actually care, were meant to see just how far down the rabbit hole I could dare go. I made it several stories before I had enough, before my technique in creativity was nothing more then often repeated and uncreative scenarios in which the evil get punished, reborn only to commit those same atrocities and be punished again in a never ending cycle.

By all means, in essence, I think I might've created a saga of souls unknowingly enduring an eternity in hell. Of course, I didn't know that until I peiced everything together through the fictitious world I had created. But, when enough time has passed, even the most wonderfully created universe are newly seen as lifeless abominations. I'm sure there are those of you who feel the same way about certain coding projects... Anyways, I really wanted to finish this entry, post it updated, and maybe get some feed back from you?

Love is... Love?

I made out with my homeless, alcoholic, fourth ex girlfriend seven months ago and almost had sex with her. Let me just get that out of the way right now. If not for the fact that she was on the rag and looking for her asshole friends who had taken her backpack, I might've been balls deep in her asshole. That's always a pretty opening line, right? well it's true. We hadn't seen each other in quite sometime, and it was just fucking perfect, we made out for a good solid ten to twenty minutes, out in the open, and to be honest, I loved every minute of it. Do I wish we were back together? Fuck no. She has problems that I, unfortunately, am ill equipped to handle, and as much as I'd love to handle her, I've got other priorities on my brain that require more of my attention. I'm wondering if this kind of makes me a giant ass hat from the whole thing, or if I just stopped caring about the whole aspect of relationships to begin with?

Whatever the answer, I don't care. It was a long time since I've experienced that level of happiness with any woman, and I KNOW for a fact that it has everything to do with her height, she and I are about the same height, around 6'5, and I fucking love it. But I'm single, and am entirely new to the concept of hooking up, and for the most part, it does show. I'm thinking this is the reason I haven't felt the need to go find a girlfriend, because i know that I've already got one. I think I stopped short of proposing to her becausei n hindsight, I realized what the fuck I was getting myself into. I'm done living in the past, not because it's a major drag, but because it slows me down in prgressing forward with my won life.

After all, happiness is the epitome of the Human Experience, right? So why shouldn't i prevent myself from being happy, even if it does contradict and overwrite my previous beliefs in ordered chaos and all of that!? I can no longer have my own mind unfettered by these illogical strains of nonconformity, of noncommitalism, of not giving any fucks.

After all, strong hearts bread strong heartbeats.

My reason for being.

I don't know what I want to do anymore... It just seems a little horrifying when you think about it. All I've ever wanted to do is write books, that's it. I've no higher ambition besides creating works of fiction thatp eople may or may not like. But why all this pressure for me to find a job? Serious, I'm an author and a youtuber. Writing IS my chosen profession, and with my limited attention span every minute that I spend compiling old works into Publishable material is vitally important to me. I hate the feeling of being rushed, I hate it when people doubt me, I most importantly hate it when others keep trying to sabotage my efforts because they don't like my line of work, or feel that it's inferior to their own.

It's a very frustrating feeling over all, and I guess I'm just kind of sick of being told the same thing over and over again, especially when theres an accompaniment of the same, tired, old messages ground into my head over and over again... It's ridiculous, especially when, after everything I've done. Everything I've created, even the OKC stories... Which I think that's all I uploaded to THIS site, are all pieces of a larger whole. The time of focusing on the negative is over. Now is the time for me to look towards the future, ignoring the blind assessments from others that I need to break away from this. I'll never give up writing, it's my BAE, it's my forte, it's my everything. It's my way of tuning the madness of the world out. My time to focus on something that truly means the world to me.

You may read this, and think I DO need to move on. But I honestly don't have any drive to have a family, or find a "9 to 5" because why the fuck would I want to stress myself out like that for? No point. I know who I am, I know what I want out of life, and even if it's not what the majority would care for, it's still my choice. After all, we each live our lives according to our own wants and needs. The sad thing about this I'm 32, live with my folks, and recently resignedfrom my job as a sign waver after 2.5 years... Scary when you think about it... Two and a half years.

this is kind of a strange twist though, it wa the first steady job I've held, but I had to leave because they kept cutting my hours, because of the health risks involved because of the rising heat levels, and I sure as hell wasn't planning on staying at job that put me in physical danger on a near daily basis. Is this America? where we're able to follow our dreams? Peruit our happiness? Isn't that IN the U.S. constitution? The Declaration of independence? since when in America have we had to work for the Freedom of Speech? the right to say what we wish and deal with the consequences later? Aren't we, as humans, free to choose whom to love? to not be so brow beaten that we actively avoid initiating conversation with women out of fear that our mother will say something snide?

After I left college, I lost my fiance to another guy... guys. And from there I went through a five year derp fest, where each day seemed to get worse than the one before it. Before long, I was so angry at the world that I just didn't care. and she, my mother, had gotten so fed up with me that we regularly fought day after day. Snide comment after snide comment. Her trying to control me, me just not wanting any part ofi t. Eventually, it got so bad that they threw my ass out on the street. which I went to stay at a homeless shelter for a while until a simple question, "would you like me to get you a glass?" got twisted by another person into "Would you like me to touch your ass?" Stupid fucking people. Anyways, I left shortly there after, went back home, struggled for a while long, still having residual anger over a bunch of things that no longer mattered, and were out of my control.

The only thing that i've actually been able to hold on to, the only thing that's kept me sane for any amount of time is writing. I've published a few books with a friend of mine a while back. Even though they aren't selling, it's worth noting that I gained valuable experience with self publishing. then I discovered Createspace.com, which was a life saver in terms of self publishing. Still no advertising though... lol. but it does give me an outlet whenever I have a project complete. Which I do! I've several... tons, really. So I've been going around and saving all of them to txt files to get them ready. It's a lot of work, but it's worth it. All I want to do is write books... Why is that so hard to understand?

Wasting time or energy?

I'm wondering something. Are we wasting our time? not with this server, but... Just with stupid things that takeo ur attention away from the bigger picture. It may seem like a stupid thought at first, but when thought about  at length, you actually start to wonder about the true nature of our existence.
It's not so much the fact that we're simply randomly popping up and going "Boof", but rather that we're attempting to go about 100 different paths, sometimes connecting, sometimes disconnecting, but always moving alongside one another. If we are wasting time, which is a stupid idea in and of itself,  because how can we waste something we can't get a physical feel for?
In that regard, it's not a matter if we're wasting TIME itself, but rather if we're sticking our heads into a bunch of useless and counterproductive projects... but, the creation of anything is regarding as productive, and essential for keeping our minds at ease as a way to relax.
but does the production of useless things for our own enjoyment, and by extension, the enjoyment of others in due time, mean that we're not really wasting our time, but still contributing to the greater whole?
there's a lot of variables, figures and facts to consider, but when it comes down to it, I don't know the exact answer. Part of me says that, yes we are, because what we create doesn't reach a large group of people, only a small group at most, and if we're lucky, they share to their own groups.
And part of me wants to say no, because even if we only reach a small group of people, that group, in and of itself, still finds enjoyment from our labors, and they are labors in and of themselves.