You have to start somewhere...

And that somewhere is here. At 1:38 am, on a school day none the less. I'm my own worst enemy.

People seem to be getting back into the flow of writing in a blog. That seems appealing to me, although I believe my last blog (read: my old livejournal) ended on a very sour note. Doesn't matter, really.

I'll get into it already, no need for an introduction. If you know me well enough to want to read this, you have a general idea of what I'm about. If you don't know me, you're lurking blogger, and that's kind of fucked up.

I consider myself a pretty aware individual. I tend to read people and take that in, and figure out whats going on around me. What I'm saying is, I'm not an idiot. I feel like I say that in arguements with Katelyn a lot. Y'know, I'm not an idiot. At least, I don't think I'm an idiot. There are people out there that are much less aware than myself, at the very least. People who are oblivious to the signals they eminate. Social ignorance. That's fine, I admire that to a degree. I envy that to an even greater degree. And I thank god I'm not those people to another degree entirely. It's a weird balance I strive to maintain, a sense of being, social awareness, a sense of my own signals, and not giving a fuck what people think. The former is a psycological chess game, and I'm fucking bad at chess. Do I even know what I'm saying, doing, thinking, presenting? The latter is impossible to achieve 100% without throwing all slef respect to the wind, I feel. If it is possible to do without destroying social credibility, I've never seen it done.

That being said, I know what's going on around me. No, I shouldn't try and sing for a pop punk band. That's evident. That's arrogant. That's embarrasing. That's not going to happen. I would have liked to think I could have tried it, but I'm not even going to attempt now. I don't want to be the socially blind retard, dropping hints where the hints turn out to be jokes. I don't intend for that to happen more than it has already. That's fine, that's understandable. It's too late for me to learn how to skateboard, y'know?

I pick up on other shit too, shit that breaks my heart. Shit that makes me double-take. Shit that makes me shrug and sigh. It's heavy weight. I'm trying not to get crushed again. These things are no ones fault I guess. And I hope I read things wrong. But I'm a good listener. A great listener, actually. I hear people say a lot of things. I have for years. I'm not sure why. But I tend to get a good bead on whats playing around in peoples minds. Especially if I'm involved somehow.

"I have known many gods. He who denies them is as blind as he who trusts them too deeply. I seek not beyond death. It may be the blackness averred by the Nemedian skeptics, or Crom's realm of ice and cloud, or the snowy plains and vaulted halls of the Nordheimer's Valhalla. I know not, nor do I care. Let me live deep while I live; let me know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate, the hot embrace of white arms, the mad exultation of battle when the blue blades flame and crimson, and I am content. Let teachers and priests and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this: if life is illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and am content." is a quote from Conan, or rather, from Robert E. Howard. I wish I could live by it truly, but I obviously fall short in a number of categories for one, and for two it borders on a strange hedonism I don't feel like works. I want to soak in the words of my favorite author, a person who I feel like asked a lot of the same questions I do now. But obviously there are reasons I shouldn't. Chiefly, because Robert E. Howard killed himself at the ripe old age of 30.

I feel like I should sum up my essay in one paragraph here at the end. Treacherous dogs of public schooling.