~out of the box

Was trying to go through some boxes. As much as I put off going through the stacks and stacks of paperwork and receipts, because of the stress, this was the very last bit of "going through" I wanted to do. My writing.

I don't know what's more difficult, seeing what's there, or knowing what's not. It's all good though, I suppose... there's no organizing it anyway... no reading through it in any sort of order. What's gone is gone. What's there is there. In the end, for all I know, it'll just be bug food.

I hate that I want a beer right now. I don't know, other than refreshment, what I think I'm going to get out of a beer. All I know is that I want one. Emotional stress, I suppose.

I glanced at a couple of things, as I was taking things out. I'm funny. I crack myself up. No, really! Sometimes, I look at things I wrote or drew and just about piss myself. Ok, given, these days, that's nothing amazing, but still...

That's one thing I sort of miss... my sense of humor. I used to laugh a lot more. I wasn't so bitter and jaded and negative, as I am now. I still have a sense of humor, but it's not what it used to be. "Goofiness" is rare. I'm usually too busy complaining and throwing tantrums. ...Ranting.

Well, at least some of my writing is being read. That's the cool thing about the Internet. I write, people read, instant gratification, woohoo. Though, it's not the same. There's just something "priceless" about the rantings when they're read in retrospect... something almost other-worldly.

I like my writing. It may not be the best writing ever, and I'm sure it's far from perfect in the eyes of many, but I like it. It's me. It's as close to understanding me as anyone will ever be, if they read it all. Needless to say, I don't think that I'll have the time to do that myself. I think that I'm just going to have to settle for living it.

Think I'll go live that beer.