http://www.dancingrobots.com
we'd rather be paid to perfect the pastimes that we have harbored based solely on the fact that it makes us smile if it sounds dope
3/7/06
this is my profile on www.dancingrobots.com
bless me, father, for i have sinned. it has been... well, a long time since my last confession.
where do i begin? there’s quite a bit about me that i’m not proud of. i’m filled with self-righteousness and self-loathing, conceit and shame. i’m not a gray area: i’m both white and black. i’m a contradiction in terms. i’m a misanthropic bleeding heart liberal. i’m a talentless critic. i’m pretentious and i have nothing at all to say.
i lie constantly. i lie about things i like, things i hate, things i know, things i don’t. when i don’t know the answer to a question, i make it up--most of the time i am right. sometimes i believe myself. i lie about lying.
i once stole from a grocery store. i ate some yogurt-covered pretzels out of the clear plastic candy trays in the back. i drank before i was of age and i have used illegal substances in the past. i punched through a bedroom window once. it was not my window. i gave the guy’s girlfriend forty dollars and told her that would be enough to cover it. coincidentally that is pretty much the defining moment of my life as it stands now.
i judge books by their covers. i can’t stand guys who wear hats in the gym or girls who wear skirts with uggs. within the first three-quarters of the first second we meet, i have already made up my mind about you. the worst part is, i’m almost always right.
i write in lowercase because i think it makes me sound more intellectual. i try to pretend it is a device i use to make my writing feel more natural, but it’s not. i’ll have to go back through this and un-capitalize a lot of things i accidentally wrote correctly. i like to write, but i’m really pretty awful at it. i’m much better at breaking something down than i am at building it up. i’ve never written anything truly original in my entire life, but i can’t help but feel that when i finally do it will be the greatest thing ever written.
i pretend to like bands i don’t really like because it makes me feel cooler. i also pretend to hate bands that i don’t really hate. i say things with the knowledge that i’m probably right anyway, so it doesn’t hurt to pretend. my taste in music is very wide but almost completely arbitrary; i may give reasons, but if you listen closely, the reasons don’t really make any sense.
i whine about the passing of the golden age, but when it all comes down to it a whole lot of the things i’m so nostalgic for i don’t even think i could stand now. i just don’t have the patience anymore. i’m incredibly impatient and picky and bitter when it comes to things like games now. i think i should lighten up, but i just can’t. this seems to be a chronic problem in my life.
i make my life out to be much worse and much harder than it really is. i have yet to figure out why i do this. i’m surrounded by people who love me and i have a good job and i live in a beautiful city, but every once in a while i’m miserable for no reason and i don’t really know why. it’s not that i have no direction--i have too many directions, and i can’t pick one. i have trouble making decisions. it’s also not that i have no ambition, i just usually out-think myself and get discouraged. maybe i’m too hard on myself.
that should just about do it. huh? act of contrition? oh no, i’m sorry, i’m not catholic. but thanks for listening.
where do i begin? there’s quite a bit about me that i’m not proud of. i’m filled with self-righteousness and self-loathing, conceit and shame. i’m not a gray area: i’m both white and black. i’m a contradiction in terms. i’m a misanthropic bleeding heart liberal. i’m a talentless critic. i’m pretentious and i have nothing at all to say.
i lie constantly. i lie about things i like, things i hate, things i know, things i don’t. when i don’t know the answer to a question, i make it up--most of the time i am right. sometimes i believe myself. i lie about lying.
i once stole from a grocery store. i ate some yogurt-covered pretzels out of the clear plastic candy trays in the back. i drank before i was of age and i have used illegal substances in the past. i punched through a bedroom window once. it was not my window. i gave the guy’s girlfriend forty dollars and told her that would be enough to cover it. coincidentally that is pretty much the defining moment of my life as it stands now.
i judge books by their covers. i can’t stand guys who wear hats in the gym or girls who wear skirts with uggs. within the first three-quarters of the first second we meet, i have already made up my mind about you. the worst part is, i’m almost always right.
i write in lowercase because i think it makes me sound more intellectual. i try to pretend it is a device i use to make my writing feel more natural, but it’s not. i’ll have to go back through this and un-capitalize a lot of things i accidentally wrote correctly. i like to write, but i’m really pretty awful at it. i’m much better at breaking something down than i am at building it up. i’ve never written anything truly original in my entire life, but i can’t help but feel that when i finally do it will be the greatest thing ever written.
i pretend to like bands i don’t really like because it makes me feel cooler. i also pretend to hate bands that i don’t really hate. i say things with the knowledge that i’m probably right anyway, so it doesn’t hurt to pretend. my taste in music is very wide but almost completely arbitrary; i may give reasons, but if you listen closely, the reasons don’t really make any sense.
i whine about the passing of the golden age, but when it all comes down to it a whole lot of the things i’m so nostalgic for i don’t even think i could stand now. i just don’t have the patience anymore. i’m incredibly impatient and picky and bitter when it comes to things like games now. i think i should lighten up, but i just can’t. this seems to be a chronic problem in my life.
i make my life out to be much worse and much harder than it really is. i have yet to figure out why i do this. i’m surrounded by people who love me and i have a good job and i live in a beautiful city, but every once in a while i’m miserable for no reason and i don’t really know why. it’s not that i have no direction--i have too many directions, and i can’t pick one. i have trouble making decisions. it’s also not that i have no ambition, i just usually out-think myself and get discouraged. maybe i’m too hard on myself.
that should just about do it. huh? act of contrition? oh no, i’m sorry, i’m not catholic. but thanks for listening.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)