This One Isn't Funny (or Depressing)

I have been alive too long (don't worry, not in the way you're thinking). There are way too memories to keep track of. High school feels like yesterday, and yet, it was 4 years ago. I have been to three different colleges, I have been in and out of the most serious relationship of my life, I've watched myself and my friends grow up and move and change. It's an overwhelming feeling, that your life isn't brief. That your life is so long, and that so much can happen in one month, let alone 80-90 years. 2008 feels like a recent year, but in 2008, I was in the marching band, had one best friend whom I rarely talk to anymore, and still believed in God. Now I'm a fourth-year Computer Science major building his first actual game from the ground up, I'm in my second year of living away from home, and in 5 1/2 quarters, I'll be graduating college, ready to be a full adult. To think that all this can happen, and I'm still only a quarter done with life is fantastically monumental. So many experiences to recount, and yet triple that to come. I want to have my life memorized, I want to analyze it, and view it from different angles, and see all the strings connecting me to everyone and everything else. Time seems to be racing by at an incredibly slow pace. Where did it go? How can so much happen, without any time passing? I feel like I have grown so much, and yet I'm the same awkward kid I was in high school and before. When will I be looking back at this blog post and realize that 5 years have passed? Will I be content with the actions I've taken? Will I have done not enough? Too much? Who will I still be in contact with? Where will I be living? These questions can only be answered with time. It is by trying to ponder these questions I have realized that the magnitude of one's life cannot possibly be fathomed in a single moment.

...

I may or may not have recently gotten Facebook Timeline.

Sigh...

What do you want from me? Consistent updates? Jesus Christ, you're demanding... Yeah, sometimes I pretend people read this.

Too Many Facebook Status Possibilities

So, about a million things have popped into my head tonight that I have deemed worth sharing, and yet I know no one gives a fuck about any of it. Normally, I'd pick the best to post to Facebook, but there are just too many tonight. So, naturally, I'm posting it on my blog. Here we go:

Tonight, I have spent near 45 minutes looking at old photos of myself. It's out of nostalgia, not out of conceit, I swear.

Played too much Hector: Badge of Carnage. Everything I think and read is now in a sarcastic British accent (also called an average British accent).

See an old comment on Facebook with one like. Hover over it. "No one currently likes this." GHOSTS. (...Thanks for the like, Mouse.)

Thinking about shaving my beard. I have finally stumbled across a positive attribute about myself in hindsight: My looks. I used to look not too bad back in the day (before college and beard). Look dreadful now, though.

Pictured: A recent portrait.

I feel like I'm drunk, but without the euphoric sensation in my head. So, I'm making bad decisions, and lack a filter. Worst of both worlds, I guess (Mental note: "best" and "worst" both alliterative in that saying).

Just realized I put a period in the title of this post. My fingers are way too anal about punctuation.

Looked up, didn't you? Yeah, my brain is way too anal about leaving punctuation in a title.

By now, you've noticed I'm not doing potential Facebook statuses anymore. Apparently, by "about a million" I mean 5. So, you know, give or take 999,995. Namely, take 999,995.

Got my last final tomorrow. Wish me luck, all.

Vets

Thank you, veterans, for fighting for my right to post obligatory holiday posts on my dumb blog.

Dr. Manhattan

League of Emotional Immortals

I just read the new post over at Hyperbole and a Half and Ms. Brosh wrote of depression, and *spoiler alert* how it made her feel invincible because she had lost all feelings. This rang more true to me than I can describe, and the comments on the post indicate that I'm not the only one. An idea had occurred to me, and I wanted to run it by you all. I think we, the depressed, should form the League of Emotional Immortals, or LEI. We will band together and dare others to judge us. Dare them to criticize. Dare them to penetrate the steel wall of depression that has deadened our feelings. Any who try will only find futility, and further fortify our fortress of apathy. I propose our mission statement to be, in the words of Allie Brosh: To be stoic badasses whose emotions are mostly comprised of rock music and not being afraid of things.
Long live the League!

It's only after we've lost everything, that we're free to do anything.

- Tyler Durden

Ummm...

So, I think I'm breaking the #1 rule of blogging, and going into this with no plan whatsoever. I just feel like a blog needed to happen. I've resorted back to Omegle, which is predictable. It's like human contact, but a lot more like trying for hours to find someone who isn't a horny teenager looking to get a girl (see: horny old man pretending to be a girl) to have cyber sex . On the bright side, I'm not thinking about what my last post was about, so my face isn't in a permanent alteration between expressions of "fuck off" and Dexter-like emptiness.

On a similar note, I've been putting some effort into online dating, so that's failing. Okay, I've gotten a response, but I'm not sure I'll get another. See, the problem is that while I'm usually wonderful at instant messaging people, and passable at verbal communication, when I'm just talking at someone without them being able to respond until I've said everything I'm going to say, I just throw a wall of text at them (see: this blog).

I SWEAR I CAN DO THINGS OTHER THAN WALLS OF TEXT.

I'm not sure that this tactic is particularly conducive to convincing women I'm not self-absorbed and boring (see: lying to them). A few days after I sent a several-paragraph long reply message to responder #only, I realized this possible blunder. So I tried to amend the situation by sending a second message. A sound plan, to be sure. So now I'm playing the waiting game a bit, while passively perusing the site for other interesting-looking women. Turns out there are a lot more 90%+ matches in New City than Old Town. Like 5, instead of 2.

Other than this fascinating part of my life, I'm being swallowed whole by my new classes. If I drop out of blogging for a long period of time (again), it's probably due to classwork. Either I'm busy doing it, or it's driven me to suicide*. It's a toss-up. I don't know what else to say, so I'll leave you with a picture of my response to a poster I found:

I really need to block his number...

*NOTE: I'm not actually going to commit suicide over something as silly as schoolwork.


EDIT: She did message me back, and we went on a date. It went well, and it looks like we'll be going out again. Because I know you guys care and were losing sleep over my romance troubles.

DOUBLE EDIT: Yeah, we went out twice and I never saw her again. Sweet.