Okay, I've always wanted to write a blog...

So now I'm starting.

It occurs to me that I have always avoided journalling -- which is strange, b/c I can have periods of amazing self-involvement, so you'd think I'd be all over it.

I guess I look at it the way I look at writing a story. Don't start it, unless it's going somewhere interesting and good. Like I hate stories that don't have a clear sense of the Aristotalean beginning, middle, and end. And vague endings infuriate me -- b/c basically I've just wasted anywhere from an hour to DAYS of my life, just to end with something limp.

I often compare this with watching a man masturbate. I know no woman that enjoys this activity -- because seriously, what pleasure is there in it for you?

So when I see a movie or read a book that just sort of ends, like runs out of steam, I get upset.

And I especially hate that feeling you get in the middle of movies or plays, when you realize they may be going nowhere, and you're forced along for the ride by social convention or whatever keeps you there after five minutes of a movie or play that you know you're not going to enjoy.

This is why I've always liked having seen Fellini movies, rather than the actual viewing of them. And this is also why you will probably never catch me watching one outside of a class assignment, and I'm out of school now, so....

But then I have a moment of pause. B/c it also occurs to me that maybe I don't journal, b/c deep down inside I don't think my life is going anywhere.

And maybe I don't think my life is going anywhere, b/c I don't have a clear sense of direction or like even an outline as to where I'm going with this story I'm living.

And that's upsetting, b/c I won't write a word of anything without a outline, so why am I just freefloating through life?

Long story short, I decided to start blogging-- and exercising regularly outside of Derby Doll practice.

Don't ask. I'm pretty sure this is a random bid to take some kind of control of my life, since I can't do anything about my account being overdrawn, and I'm currently slogging my way through the worst case of writer's block...

I'm also thinking of actually cleaning my apartment. But, hey, I wouldn't want to get carried away, now.

Anyway, today I feel like a Fellini movie -- but not the happy, fun, drunk bits.

I feel like the existential, ennui-laced, self-aware bits.

But, hey, Fellini films got made, didn't they?

Currently reading:
Cloud Atlas : A Novel
By David Mitchell
Release date: By 17 August, 2004