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2002-05-23 - 11:11 a.m.
i don't have the patience to write an entire journal entry. by the time i enter my password, clicky-click on the weblog page and get started i am already bored. there are too many things to say, and none of them are particularly important. lately i have found that nothing seems important enough to say/discuss. it concerns me that i have allowed myself to slide so smoothly into this cold porridge of apathy. is it my own lack of passion? or are we all too politically correct? perhaps too judgmental. i keep biting, chewing, spitting out. and it all tastes the same. i want to allow myself the luxury of anger. but even that luxury seems too problematic...who will clean up after the party? after my big fat anger party, who will be left? i am too tired to pick up the pieces. so where does this leave me? bland and uncaring, limp and formless. the automaton. well, this is unacceptable too. i don't want any more weak sauce, tepid meat. but it is hard to resist the conditioning. it requires a choice, a violent opposition to the comfort i have so carefully created. it is a terrible thing to realize that we spend our entire lives striving to find a place, to make ourselves comfortable and whole, only to realize that the acquisition of this status necessarily requires that we revise, restructure and destroy in order to prevent the disintegration of over-comfort. that is not to say that striving for perfection is futile. in the end i will choose anger, or at least her sister discontent. i will choose miscommunication and hard edges. at least i will choose something.
upon this statement i realize that i have never chosen anything else.