The Kettle Is Boiled

Completely, absolutely, indubitably raging, heated and boiled. The kettle: My body. What's boiled? My blood. I'm ticked. I'm pissed. I'm downright furious. It's crawling beneath my skin, and I'm nigh on bugging, but guess what? I wouldn't have it any other way. 

I haven't updated in a damn long time. There's good reason for that, though. I've been working my ass off; so hard in fact that if I pushed myself further, I'd probably end up in a shower, less one pair of jeans. I go commando. Sometimes. Whatever. 

Do I sleep? No. Do I eat? If I can stomach it. I've got knots in my belly strung so tightly I feel as though I must have swallowed a washer and now all I can ingest is Tequila. Not such a bad thing, but it's not exactly healthy. My health is of no import, however. Not when I've got such a serious untopic to type about, as aggressively as possible on my laptop that doesn't deserve to be treated in such a disrespectful way. It's just. . . I have a question. Oh, and yea, I'm going to answer it right after I ask it, so meow. 

How does one establish himself in a world as malignant as this? It's really quite simple. Don't care. Yes my thumbs might be killing me from the amount of texting I do, and my eye lids might feel heavier than the people in Hoveround commercials, but so far so good. I think my obsessive networking, and love for all things transparent (and I mean transparent in terms of proper morality) is starting to pay off. It's a bit uncool to say it, but damnit I'm proud.

It really has been a long time since I last posted, and I just wanted to write down in Qwerty how much I've come to love my life and the wonderful things I've had going on. I have met some amazing individuals over the past month or two. Some were simply put, lovely, kind, good-hearted people, while many of the others have inspired me, more than they'll ever possibly know, to continue on the daunting path I've decided to take. It is my life, and I refuse to hate it. I don't want to be the person that walks down the street staring at his toes. I want to listen to the birds, enjoy the smell of the pavement after a torrential downpour, and I want to wear ugly bathing suits just to say, "I'm wearing ugly swim trunks; whatcha gonna do about it?"

I'm going to avoid the cancer spreading throughout the world by taking a piece of each and every good person I meet, and keeping them in my mind forever. Every conversation counts, and so does every pat on the back. Sometimes you need one or the other more than other times, but those people you meet in life, even if just a stranger who is willing to listen to you bitch and moan, remembering that gesture and reciprocating, or paying it forward is the only way I can picture myself living on this planet.

Now for something a little irrelevant: EYAYAYAY Just popped into my head.

The idea of the "career" haunts my every waking moment. I fear for my friends, my family, and for everyone else for that matter. Of course, though it is their choice to lead their lives the way they want, and, or need to, but I won't live that life. Everyone else is more than welcome to it. Me? I'm going to try to make sure that the people that stare at their shoes, look up once in a while and see blue skies, not leather routine. Label that a career if you want, but if you gave me a name tag and it said Name Here______ and beneath it said Career Path________ I'd staple it to the singing Hoveround guy's ass and pray those things can't go more than 3 miles per hour; 5 mph downhill. . . forget it, I'll just avoid slopes. 

Now what have I been doing that I'm so proud of? Tune in next week (and I mean it... Like seriously I'm actually going to be posting on a regular basis now) and you'll see. It's quite bad ass. Not as bad ass as being an assassin for hire, but it's pretty close. I'm tired. Goodnight. I love you.

- A Bachelors Degree Beggar

P.S. Just kidding I'm done with this post.