Split In My Brain

Wired and sitting by myself. Wired and wondering if anyone is reading this blog at all. The profile view count is going up, so either people are reading, or I'm showing up in search engines. I'm afraid people are getting here, not finding the pussy they thought they would, and turning back around. I just hope they remember to signal before they re-enter the highway to internet porn.

This blog is the most I've written in a month and a half, outside of a cover letter, or a tweak to my resume. The little bit of poetry that resided in my brain for the past two years of graduate school abandoned ship sometime ago. I suppose I should do something with the beast of a thesis I cried over for months, but I can't bring myself to send it anywhere. I have no money for the entry fees, and little inspiration to even print out the fifty-plus page beast.

I get to the gym at least four times a week, at least. I'm still doing yoga, though I have more of an inclination towards the Tai Chi, Pilates and yoga fusion class lately. It's faster, more aggressive - when everything else in my life is stagnant, it's satisfying that my body isn't. Sometimes I find myself thinking if I get through a brutal hour of cardio or put in another set of bicycle crunches everything will work out - that somehow challenging myself physically will result in payment in other factions of my life. The delusions we pitch in our brains to get ourselves through.

Maybe I should turn this into a celebrity-following blog, or a beauty blog - I read people like those kinds of blogs. Hmm. I read a couple of weeks ago Lady GaGa was on a yacht sucking face with a brunette with long legs. I'm sure everyone knows that already. I'm bad at the celeb blog thing, I guess.

I quit.