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Gay crap nobody wants to read (hint: this is what my whole journal is)

Having slept on my last entry with a seemingly bleak outlook on the current state of Brad affairs, and then having eaten several meals and also walking a little bit here and there, and then finally returning some DVDs and watching more DVDs and putting on a shirt so that I didn't have to stare at my larger-than-average, hairy nipples for much longer, I've realised that I am actually quite happy about life even if it is shit.

See, this may sound completely like some thinly-veiled attempt to come to terms with the negative aspects of my life (though it could be that, I'm never quite sure if I'm masking truths or breaking booths, which is a new term that I coined to represent the opposite of masking truths), but it's like one big comedy. Perhaps I've been afforded the luxury of not having to deal with too many devastating personal hurdles such as perhaps the death of a close family member or the death of a close family member's pet under the assumption that the close family member would indeed mourn the loss of their once living pet and therefore be quite morose and in turn affect my somewhat pleasant demeanor given that I'm not in a terrible mood (!), so my outlook is somewhat sugar-coated and fancy free.

Whatever happens to me - however bad it may be - I still live under the assumption that you really can't be too sad or angry about things because you're going to die anyway. Don't you ever sit back and realise "Hey, I'm gonna be fucking dead! A cessation of my being alive is imminent!"? I sure as heck do, and it's not depressing. Right now I've got the volume turned right down on my speakers, but for some reason there is a radio station that gets picked up and plays very faintly through the speakers, and right now it sounds like Waltzing Matilda played by some organ, and has actually transitioned out to the talking that I hear constantly. Shit like that, that's weird and hilarious in that "Oh I would laugh but I'd rather just chuckle in my head" way. Anyway, no matter what bad shit happens, you're going to die. I almost revel in the fact that there's a chance that I never find a significant other to share my life with, because I'm gonna fuckin' die anyway! So what if I'd like it to happen, so what if I'll be "truly" happy, because I can still roll around on my fucking floor at any given point and laugh until the veins in my testicles burst thinking about how stupid life really is.

Man, I had a point but I completely lost it! Here was one of my personal realisations:

- Sometimes, or a lot of times, I'll downplay who I am or what I'm capable of so that I can't be truly judged on my abilities. In doing so, I attempt to reduce the possibility that somebody finds out that I'm just a mediocre person with nothing really special. If you never try to achieve your full potential, you can never be judged truly. Simple.

Isn't that a pretty major realisation? It never comes to the point where I lie about things, but if you pretend you're shit and someone thinks you're amazing then it's a nice surprise, and if you try your hardest and someone thinks you're shit then it can be one of the most demoralising things in the whole wide world. This could be a bunch of horse shit and at this point in time I'm inclined to agree with this sentence's statement, but in the off chance that I'm not dribbling shit then maybe I'll look back on this and still think I'm a huge faggot for writing some drivel. Jesus christ I need a better car.

So yes. If there were other personal realisations they've been lost in the hoo-ha that is this lump of words.

Do you ever think of something and then just want to vomit? Sometimes I do.

Maybe I'm going to start labelling everything I do as an experiement, and number them from 001 but not necessarily announce publicly every time a new experiment starts. Then one day, I'll be doing something, maybe changing CDs in my car, and I'll be able to say "Starting experiment number 724" knowing full well that I've performed 723 experiments beforehand but someone might mistake it for some arbitrary number that I plucked out of thin air to sound like I'm pretending to be the guy who actually performed those 723 prior experiments. I only say that I would label everything I do as an experiment because I'm not as confident as I could be that I could think of 723 separate experimental procedures before I realise this is the most stupid idea ever (so that gives me about 2 weeks, tops).

Tomorrow is Tuesday and it could be the day that sees me trying to organise my life. I might even go to a library.
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