The Way?

So, here I am starting a blog. I know there's loads out there, and, quite frankly, that's not an issue to be honest. I'm not writing this for anyone other than myself. Selfish right? Nah, this is just one of those things. I used to keep a diary in my Yoof, but, my wrist isn't as strong as it used to be, and paper just isn't that environmentally friendly. Not that that's a reason either, but it's something people say I think.
No, this is for me, and, whoever else stumbles across it and starts reading it, and whether or not they relate to it, or hate it, or whatever. This is who it's for.

And now the why... So why am I writing it? Cathartic. It's like a way to purge. Sometimes, writing things down can be a help when you're self analyzing, we all do it, let's not get off the wrong foot and pretend we don't. Unless you don't know that you do. But you do. Even if you say you don't. I don't believe you, and that makes absolutely no difference at all. :)
So yeah, sometimes, just writing things down can make them different. It's like magic, but without magic. So I guess it's nothing like magic at all, but it is really. A Bit like Magic.

So, for this very first entry, I'm just going to write periodically until my working day is over.  It's 1pm in the afternoon now, so it's not really that long, and I won't get alot of time, so I'll just put what I put and that'll be that and at least I'm "Writing" which is supposed to be a good thing regardless.

Also, in some ways, writing this helps me to "Look Busy" because, I'm really not, I mean, I have things to do, but 'Busy' isn't how I'd describe it to some universal all knowing consciousness that only really deals in all things rhetorical. That would just look at me with those rolly eyes and knowing smirk and go 'really? You're Busy?' and we'd both know that was Bullshit and the conversation would be started on the wrong foot and we'd have to start again with me knowing that it knows everything anyway.

Which is nice.

It's quarter past 1 now, so I'll leave it here for the time being.

"What's the fucking point in that" I hear the imaginary people saying. Well, if you don't know, you don't know, and if you do, then you'll probably stick with this until it's natural conclusion. Which could be in ten minutes, when I think..... What am I even bothering doing this for, or it could be 33 years in the future when there's over 7 million words and a path to enlightenment. Who knows. I don't, so If you do, you're a better thing than I.

I'm off to look at Privacy Settings, I'll be back, but you probably won't be able to see it. ;)

Lifes a fucker like that.

1:27pm: You know, I find myself just blindly scrolling through Facebook, you know what I mean, if you have it, just scrolling, letting my eyes fall upon pictures, maybe something catches my eye and I linger there for a half second or 2 and then scroll on. It's utter wank, yet, for some reason I return to it again and again. I logged out for over a year a few months ago, and after the initial "What the fuck am I going to look at now" period, didn't miss it at all. So is it a mistake going back to it? Probably.

Guess we'll see.

I'm sure there's some kind of algorithm they can use to latch onto your thought patterns and keep you coming back. It's either that or it's just a sense of voyeurism.  Like people watching. Which is a passtime, a sport. There's an art to it. At least, that's what I'm telling myself right now in a bid to justify the fact that I'd rather just watch people from afar these days than actually interact with them in the real world. I'm not a social animal. I used to think I was, well, I used to think I'd like to be. I wasn't when I was younger. I was the kid that fucking hated birthday parties and participating in games. I'd always come up with some excuse to my friends parents as to why I wasn't sitting in the circle playing pass the parcel with all the other kids. And they'd say we'll I don't want you to feel left out, and I wouldn't feel left out, I'd feel more included on the sidelines than I ever did in the centre.

Strange how some things stick. 

20:³9 Sometimes, I think that depression or anxiety can be infectious. It technically shouldn't work like that because it's not a dis-ease so to speak, but it is something very real that exists. If you're empathetic. Does it effect you more? Do you notice when it does. When it effects someone else, do you feel it.