Thinking Pt. 1

I am trying to think of a theme for a blog. I figure with a theme, it will give direction. With direction, I will have a thing to focus on to actually write. It's almost like in school when I was assigned to write papers. I knew what it had to be on, so I wrote about a particular topic. I'm trying to figure out that topic now.

Since this here blog is a cluster-fuck of craziness and ramblings, I figure I will leave it that way. No point in trying to switch format now. For the most part I use this thing just to throw ideas on the web. Sometimes it gets read, other times I think it just wastes the infinite space of the interwebs. With a more focused approach, I think I could write more often. Random, inane bullshit would still wind up here. I need a ranty voice as well. I just want to see if I can find something I would want to write.

I have no idea what this new venture could bring. I could decide to write on things I know, but I know a lot about nothing and nothing about everything. That's not true. My general interests are mainly entertainment and why people entertain. I do like knowing why people do the things they do, but I also like the things they do.

Who knows what could come of this? Could be something, could be nothing. I guess I'll have to write and just see what life comes from it.

Next up: Muse.

Drama-splurge

Drama sucks.

Now, I don't mean that in any literary sense. Plenty of good stories are drama based. I just don't like real world, unnecessary drama. I only call the a majority of drama I deal with on a regular basis unnecessary because it tends to be perpetrated by adults, often times older then my thirty-one years on this planet.

I asked someone today what the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath was. He told me that a sociopath has a limited circle that he cares about, but doesn't really care for the needs of the many. He also suggested that I may be one. I said I wasn't. Despite my anger and frustration with people in general, I like people. I think I just expect too much from them. I think people should just be better then they are. (Oh, I really don't know what the actual definitions of sociopath and psychopath are. I looked them up on an online dictionary, but they seem to be synonymous.)

I understand some drama. Trying to deal with a stressful situation. Fearing the unknown. Worry about potentially new relationships, be they romantic or business related. I just don't see the effort in prolong drama about seemingly inconsequential things.

To be less vague, a lot of this crap I am referring to is work related and who know who trolls these types of sites for ammunition against me. I have had my blog referred to at work by both my boss and a managing director of the mall I work in. Who knew my voice could be heard so far?

Most of these stupid things makes me want to pull my hair out in frustration. Too bad mother nature is taking that option away from me on her own. Stupid genetics.

More reasons why I don't write

Ramble time.

I have a big problem with not writing. It's not for lack of ideas. It's how I feel about what I write.

I am of the opinion that if I write something, I would like for it to be and assume it will be read. This hinders some of my subject matter because of the subjects of the writing are typically, living breathing people that could also be reading this.

If you know me, you can sort of realized that I am more verbose on things that are aggravating and generally pissing me off. Hell, everyone likes to vent. Everyone needs to vent in fact. I actually originally started writing a blog in the efforts to vet more. I had some silly notion that if I started cataloging my complaints with the world, they would become less overbearing.

I have attempted on occasion to do the typical diary/journal just for personal things. It doesn't work for me though. Handwriting out something takes too long for how fast my mind works, and my hand-writing is progressively crappier the faster I try to write. I literally have about five or six books with varying degrees of gibberish scrawled in them about whatever nonsense I was going though at certain points in my life. I like back to school sales for the plethora of cheap notebooks and pens.

To put it simply, what I want to write is about you.

Granted, I always write about me. I am after-all the focus of my being. It's just that you tend to be the subject of whatever is going on. You influence my being. You make me feel certain ways. Ways I would like to share with the world, for both good and bad reasons. I could take what I feel and keep it to myself, but I don't think that is what writing is for in the grand scheme of things. I think writing is meant to be shared for good of ill.

It's like those sex tapes that get leaked constantly. If you didn't expect anyone to watch it, you shouldn't have done it in the first place. People constantly send dirty (scratch that) nude photos to loved ones (or lust ones) but don't expect them to be viewed by anyone else. It's not that they will be viewed by anyone else, it's that it could be. To be honest, if I had nude pictures of an attractive girl, I probably wouldn't delete them, even if I don't share them with friends.

What I am trying to say is that writing for me is like nudity. It's an exposure to who I am and the random things that come to mind. It just happens that what is on my mind is you. I don't think you would like to read about yourself, though.

So, here I am with a desire to loquaciously strip on the internet. As I am about to undo the first button, I stare nervously at the crowd. I don't think they would want to see what I am about to show. I freeze, staring at the spotlight glowing in my face.