First Thoughts

Welcome to my stupid blog. This is the place where I post my thoughts that run through my head right as they run through my head, so good luck interpreting them, mister, or miss, or whatever kind of creature you might be that can understand the English language.


I feel awfully tired in my mind, but I've had plenty of rest. When I try to go to sleep, I just end up lying awake in my bed feeling strangely full of energy to think, but I don't feel like thinking, I feel like resting because when I actually try to think and express my thoughts in text like I'm doing now, I feel tired and not willing to do it. This forces me to force my way through doing it, so I can get shit done and whatnot like that. I think my brain is trying to trick me into thinking that I'm tired when I'm really not.

When you get down to it, the mind is a rather cunning trickster. You can trick yourself into thinking anything, but is it really a trick if you really think it? Are you in control of the brain when you're thinking or is it controlling you? That's a question that's been bothering me for a few months now, and hopefully I'll find an answer to it soon, so I can get on with life.

Isn't life a great thing? I know that life is worth living because I haven't suffered through any sort of poverty or abuse. Perhaps that's why I have a more free mind; I have been given enough freedom to express it. Yeah, that sounds good. Doesn't it?

Wow, I'm really focusing on grammar, huh? I mean, jeeze. Okay, there we go; there's some bad grammar at least.

Now that I think, like I always want to think, there comes a time and a color that flows over me like the ocean of rain from that ancient story known by people who live by the sea. Yes, fishermen are quite the fond ones when they're able to get the fish they desire. Come now, listen to the colorful music. How can music have color if it is only an auditory thing? That doesn't make sense. I guess it's just the creative use of metaphorical people. Lets try a reverse metaphor, alright? Here we go: gee, man, that's an awfully loud picture. Hmm, interesting; I wonder what the critic critics will say about my critique if I say that; I really do.

Yes, I feel like typing a little bit more, do you envy me? Do you envy my skills of slightly missing on grammatical perfection at times when I'm getting serious? I know you do because you're reading this right now. Yes you are. What a good little reader you've become. I'm sure your parents will be very proud of your stunning achievements.

Want to be an architect, do you? Well, stuff it, cause you ain't gonna get that dream at the pace you're traveling. Man, you're going so slow, a slug may be able to win you in a meter race. What I mean by that is that you haven't even moved an inch. You've only moved in theory, and that's what happens when you really really feel terrible.

Come on. Aren't you feeling good yet? I'm trying to use a bit of that good old reverse psychology on you, but it doesn't seem to be working. Am I only annoying you with my little quips of knowledge that have no connection whatsoever in the great chain of your life?

Yes, I know I can be a little bit over the top sometimes, but that's just the way I was built. My mother had to be quiet all of her life, so now I have to be loud; it's the way nature sometimes works: like mother unlike son. That's the kind of stuff you read in those retarded magazines that get shoved out by those popular pops!