Surprisingly Unsurprising

So, like an asshole, I just blurted out to Kate that I'm going back to university. Unlike an asshole, though, I jumped right on it and dealt with it.

I didn't want to tell her because I knew she'd just think it was another little bullshit thing I'd try then fail at, exclusively so I could feel sorry for myself and make her feel sorry for me, even if she privately hoped that I'd actually do it this time. I told my friends because I knew they'd be supportive and encouraging, even if they heard this before and privately thought I wouldn't be able to go through with it this time any more than I was able to any of the other times. The un-assholish thing I did after telling Kate when I had not only planned on not telling her, but actually thought to myself just before I called her I have to make sure I don't blurt out that I'm going back to uni was to, as maudlin as this sounds, pull out my notebook and make a note of it.

My big problem is that I have structured my life so that it revolves exclusively around feeling sorry for myself and making others feel sorry for me. Not at all too late I have realized that this both counter-productive and self-destructive, and the reason why my marriage failed and I have not been able to do the things I'd like to do. So, I have to not do that. Now, after this little fiasco, I think I have a better idea of what I need to do in order to change that fundamental way I interact and relate to people I care about. Before, I had only gotten as far as "Feeling sorry for myself and making others feel sorry for me is why I'm unhappy", and "I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and making others feel sorry for me and start doing things to make myself feel good about who I am and make others feel better about knowing me and relating to me". Which is a good start, but not even close to being any help in actually doing what I'vedecided needs to be done. Sure, getting into university is a good thing, but that alone won't make me stop living this way. I need a more developed plan of attack. But now I think I'm onto something w/r/t that.

The Minutes Drag And The Hours Jerk

I'd like to leave now, please.

I have stuff to write, I have a couple of stories I need to finish off, and I'm stuck here, bored out of my mind. It's so awful and tedious that I have no choice but to silently and constantly remind myself that I'm going back to university as soon as the next semester starts, that's my ticket out of here. Over and over. And over.

I'm Still At It, Or So It Would Seem...

I'm at work, it's Saturday morning, and it should go without saying that I wish I was anywhere but here right now. I have plenty to write about, and I still need to work out exactly what I'll be posting here, and who I'm going to invite over to read this stuff, and basically, the question is, how personal should I get here? Because I can't afford to infuriate/creep out certain people, nor do I want to, but at the same time, I'd love to be able to write about specific people and have people read it. It's been a rather interesting time, the last few weeks, there's some interesting things in there...some hard-core hilarity, as well. Since some of it might, in retrospect, actually have been actionable, and as I do sincerely wish to make the leap to becoming a functioning, respectable human being, not to mention the fact that I would very much like to not aggravate beyond the point of no return the very people I'm trying to convince of my incipient humanity, I should probably hold off until the smoke, as they say, clears.

When It Rains, It Pours

So, it's a few hours later, and after a fairly productive afternoon, I'm back at work. I hate my job so very, very much, however, I am about to apply to the ANU, after I post this. I went there the day before yesterday, and hassled the shit out of them. I told them I would be attending their fine institution in the upcoming semester and that I needed to know how to make that happen. They shuttled me back and forth between Admissions and the School of Arts, but I ultimately got the information I needed. I have to apply over the interwebs, and even though I am competeing with a bunch of fresh-faced highschool grads for a spot, I've been informed that because I have attended university before, I have a leg up on them. There are other ways to get in, though, so I'm not worried. Like I said to them, I will be attending the ANU. I am not taking "no" for an answer. I have to get a degree, I have to complete university, and I need to be doing something productive and constructive with my time. I owe it to my daughters. Plus, having so much time on my hands is proving to be problematic in terms insofar as my ability to deal with things in a manner that doesn't cause my ex-wife to wig out is concerned. Again, my daughters: I have to do the obvious things I need to do in order to become a normal human being so I can still be with them as much as I would like, and so as not to teach them the wrong lessons.

So, it's come to this...

It's been quite a while, but I've decided to get back into using this thing. Originally, I was going to pretty much concentrate on politics, with the occasional foray into sports, but things changed somewhat in the, um, two years or so since I last even came by here. Instead of politics and sports, I will now be writing about anything that occurs to me. I'm writing now (both here and in other, more traditional media) because I have to: writing is what I always thought I was best at and what I always thought would be the focal point of whatever carreer I would choose, but thus far, it has not. There's a reason for that, but it's too obvious and maudlin and sort of bathetic, so I'm not going to go into it. The important thing is that I am writing furiously, pretty much every spare minute I have. I need to get a little more organized about it, I need to focus a bit more narrowly now that I've settled in to the habit of writing all the time. I need to work out what kind of writing I like, what I feel most comfortable with. It's the obvious thing to just assume that because I know that I can write, that means I'm automatically going to write novels and short stories. Maybe I'm better at something else, maybe I like writing something else more...I'll try a few things, see what feels best. And this thing will be used primarily to essays, non-fiction and free-form verse. Terrifically long-winded, weepy, inscrutable free verse. Because Artaud was a pussy.

It also does not fail to occur to me that one other essential facet of writing is being read, so if you're reading this it means that I have managed to actually convince someone to give my stuff a go. Which is only surprising because I've only recently stopped spending all of my time trying to keep myself away from my friends. Which is bad. However, you are hopefully reading this because what I've really done is explain to you that that I have a basic, personal need to re-connect with my friends that has nothing to do with writing, and that one of the ways I hope to compensate you for years of neglect and inconsiderate beahviour by entertaining you with all the considerable wit and pith at my disposal.

A New Blog

Gee, I wonder who's responsible for this?

Maybe we can get some sort of mutual chastisement thing going, to shame each other into posting more.

You know what else would be nice? If the other people I know, who pretty much do nothing but use the interweb all day long, would start blogs also. We could have our own little network of profanity-laced blogs of uselessness.

The World Cup and Powerline

So, Paul Mirengoff at Powerline, compares the US team to Australia, and tells us the Socceroos are "a team of comparable talent and less international experience". All I can say is, it would be nice if Paul knew something, anything, about European professional football. If he did, he might be able to tell us how a team that consists of 11 guys who get regular first-team playing at first division European clubs is comparable talent-wise to a team that has maybe 5 guys with regular first-team playing time at first division European clubs. And also, dukeing it out with Costa Rica on a regular basis is not actually the same thing as beating England away.

But then again, if Paul Mirengoff knew what the fuck he was talking about, he wouldn't be writing for Powerline.

I really wish soccer would get bigger in the US, and fucking retards like Mirengoff aren't actually helping matters.

The World Cup

England, bitches.

That is all.