Time to Rant...
Way too long, it almost seems like I don't care...
What am I supposed to say here? The anger isn't with me tonight so I can't ride that muse. The sick thing is I used to be able to summon it at will and then continue as if nothing had ever changed.
So here I am again. Gods know how many months have passed since I have updated this page. I don't even recall any of my HTML dabbling. Thank the Gods that Angela pieced this together and even left a guide for idiots in the code lines so I could change this as I felt I needed to.
This is a rant page so I guess I should find something to rant about. Should I rant about the current political troubles that we as a country are currently faceing? Or should I go on a diatribe about the way death is viewed by the youth of today? Should I bitch about the fact that I just used the term "Youth of today?"
I am not sure. Mayhap I will just explode on all topics and anything that comes to mind. Not witholding anything and most certainly insulting SOMEONE that reads this, if in fact that they do read this.
Damn. I can't even find the muse when I need her. I wish I had the arrogance to claim that I was a tortured artist and that my pain needed to be expressed. That this pain was trapped inside of me and the muse won't allow me to set it free. Oh, woe is me and my plight. The plight of the self involved, arrogant individual. What would you know about it? You don't understand my pain, your not deep enough.
Big words from a puddle, don't ya think?
I was visited by the muse a week or so ago. She came to me at work one day. She played upon an old passion, an old piece of who I was. I was given the chance to create something. The words coming from somewhere else, through my hands. I had that chance and I just let it pass. I continued to work. I continued to look at the screen and ignore this gift. Mayhap, this is why she doesn't come to see me much any more... She gives of herself to me, and I am too busy giving praise to the god of the modern world. The all mighty dollar. Yes... I admit it, you have caught me dead to rights.
I have a rent addiction.
It all started when I moved into this tiny little place on my own. A one room place. Nothing fancy. I could have left at any time. I was there by choice. No one was making me stay. I was there because I wanted to be there, nothing more. Soon, it seemed like months passed by. Everyday I would go home to this little apartment and live there. Once a month I would seek out my dealer and give them the cash so that I could feed this fix again for another month
Month after month, I would continue, acting like I didn't have a problem. No one said anything so I figured it wasn't too bad, right? I mean, I wasn't hurting anybody and I knew other people who rented. It was no big deal. It was a publicly accepted action.
Then it happened. I wanted a bigger place. I figured "Hell, I can handle it. The place I am in now is just a little too small, that's all. I am only doing it cause I need more space to... Put my stuff!" Yeah! That was what it was! I need to put my stuff someplace
Some say that Renting doesn't lead to harder things but they are wrong... DEAD WRONG!
Soon I found myself wanting furniture. Wanting dishes. Wanting appliances. Stuff I never wanted before. Stuff I never needed before. It was sick. This urge to domesticate. How humiliating. How degrading. How much of a money drain!
My friends and Co-workers were no help. They were all hopelessly addicted too! They all supported this bad habbit when I needed someone to show me how wrong it truely was.
It's been so many years since that first day, My first day. I don't think I will ever recover...