**Originally written on July 2, 2008.
What I'm thinking is I wish it didn't take learning Emily Emoticon's preference on pops in order to find myself sleeping comfortably. There is just something about the unbelievable lack of effort that people put into survey after survey on these websites that is really soothing to a fellow like myself. I guess it's just knowing that honestly nobody else's life is any better than mine that helps me forget about my own problems. You would think if you were bored enough to fill out a personal questionnaire filled with questions about yourself and post it for the public that you might actually put some time and thought into the answers. The reality, however, is that half the time when reading these things all you see is "yes" or "no" or "I don't know" or "maybe". I mean, shoot, if this is the best they can do, then it must mean that nobodies life is any more exciting or unique than mine...and for some reason I find comfort in that.
What I'm wearing is a look of disinterest. A pair of half-open eyes that are dark to match my aura...whatever the fuck that is. I hit refresh in hopes to find something interesting and all I see is Franky Facebook's newest post about how some bitch who got capped when she was pregnant is going to haunt me if I don't repost this quicker than I can even take a breathe. Is this how people entertain themselves these days? Via internet superstition and a desire to be immortal...well, immortal, that is, until ten more people post bulletins about finding your true love and getting free applebee's coupons? Then again, I guess it isn't much better when you entertain yourself at their expense, full knowing their lack of effort and still reading their ramblings despite it. The internet is a brilliant thief who steals time from them thus stealing it from me in a vicious cycle of attempting to be entertained and still coming up short. After all, when was the last time anyone said "I wish this survey would never end" or "I can't wait to see what Jimmy posts tonight!"? No matter what end you're on, the internet is fucking boring and yet somehow in modern society it is our main source of everything from art to orgasms to whatever else we are too numb and lazy to experience in person. Fuck you Tom. Not even you can take the time to change your god damn default picture you lazy fucking bastard.
What I'm asking myself is if I am a part of this. "Yes." What I'm trying to figure out is if I am actually enjoying myself. "No." What I can't understand is if I am aware of it why I don't hold myself to a higher standard. "I don't know." Will I ever do anything about it? "Maybe."
Who I am on Myspace is almost representative of who I wish I really was in real life. Sure, the outline is there and what you see on the page is what you get to some extent in person, but when you look at me living do you see the exact same thing that you see when you click 5 friends down your top list and find yourself redirected to my page? I may be a straight caucasian capricorn who is slender, in a relationship, and making less than $30,000 a year, but would you know the truth about me if you talked to me in person the way that you believe you do through reading my blogs? I mean, just because I have a picture of Jesus under my heroes section doesn't mean you'd ever know I even care about him without it. My mood may indeed inform you that I am feeling quixotic (which I still can't define) but in actuality I may be feeling quite the contrary.
What I'm realizing is how much this all makes sense. If you had somewhere to go where you didn't have to be yourself and the most you had to worry about was whether you're latest friend request got accepted or not, you'd leave in a second. And you probably do every day several times a day. I do. It's really funny how much people always tend to have in common with those that disgust them the most.
What I'm wearing is a tired, yet hopeful look of ambition. My eyes are still dark yet now Im feeling sorely mismatched. I'm thinking about shopping around for something with a little more truth on the sleeves than what I am wearing right now. Maybe tomorrow I will call one of the 161 less friends that I have in person than I do on Myspace and do something before work.
What I'm doing is signing off. What I'm hoping for is REM. What I'm least concerned about is talking to whoever else is conveniently signed on. What I'm doing tomorrow is...undetermined.
Now repost this in the next 60 seconds or else you will not find true love for at least sixty days.
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