And another one bites the dust

Last night, I drank a 40 of High Life, smoked a bunch of... tobacco, and took my pain medication. I went to sleep at 10pm.

The night before that I called my girlfriend, who's name is Meghan, a "fucking mor" after she shocked me by spilling beer on me. She managed to figure out that last syllable on her own. My apologies didn't exactly do the trick.

I showed her this blog. We talked on gchat a lot. When I misspelled her name as "megan," occasionally, she would get upset. "But you hate her so much!" she cried.

I don't hate Megan, nor Meghan, of course. I don't hate anyone. I hate a lot of ideas and my hatred for ideas often comes across as hatred for a person, but I don't hate anyone.

I started writing here just to see. As I mentioned, I'm chronically injured, and finding hobbies is a task. I figured, "Why not try writing?" I don't hate Megan's ideas as much as the rest of the family, but hey, that'd only make it more fun and challenging, right?

Well, I've never called someone a "fucking mor" before, unless I meant it. I think that it is difficult not to brainwash yourself in a situation like this, especially for one who was already a bit persnickety to begin with. It is difficult for me, anyway. I think this endeavor, pursued with such regularity, is exacerbating some of the worst parts of my personality.

Perhaps I will pop in from time to time, but I think I'll try and get my own thing going with most of my free time. Perhaps I can channel my energy to something that is more the cut of my jib.

But it's been fun, and thanks to the two of that left me positive feed back. I'll keep my eye on the blog, pop in from time to time, maybe post some cat porn and links to other things I try to write, but I'm not going to obsess anymore.

Enjoy refreshing time!
Stevie

PS Meghan, you're not a fucking mor.

PPS Megan, you kind of are, but, really, it's okie. We still love you.