So first post here on this little blog sort of journal thing. Not sure what to type about really. I've got nothing tremendously entertaining to put here. It's hard to find things interesting to others when you've been striving to be with yourself for the past six months. Which is odd: this staying with myself for these months. It's comforting; like I've accomplished something that hasn't made me insane. Unfortunately it is time to bring forth cash. To get a job, to pay the bills, to buy the booze, to get up at socially appropriate times. Quite a shock to me that I've stayed unemployed and relatively chaste in these months. Differs from the hustle and bustle of the past years. The struggle to live and maintain independence turned into the daily grind of seeing what isn't there, typing obscenities into the early morning hours, and not bothering to shave or dress. I've decided its not really for me. The goal of not having goals has been achieved, and gotten me no-where. Just as I wanted, but... once again, not for me. Not to say I'll like people or my furry brethren more now, or be drunk less. That's just stupid. I think I'll try the job and hermitage life now. I think I'm under the Idea that I have debts to pay, hence the change. Debts, as I see them, infringe on my independence. Which of course is my point in life since I've seen so many fail at it. That's not a jab at anyone/thing, just a realization that to be with people, someone sometimes has to be there for them, as in not always a cohesive unit. It furthers my lack of confidence in the human race. And as much as I'm sure I could just live with a pack of dogs in the forest for the rest of my days, a handfull of people make me want to stay. I like supporting others in one manner or another, to be that person required to make others come together. My favorite has been to support their alternate state. There was a time when it was girls playing legos, various generally non-intermingling social cliches playing LAN Halo, but now its the drink. Which is odd, as the fur I live with is without the urge to release via the drink. "What an odd roomie pair", I've always thought. It's true: we're fucking weird, the two of us. Confused more than once for relatives too, with our South American military caps and my occasional face hair. He's like a nicer version of me. Dating/Marrying a girl, tucks his shirt in, doesn't alter his state with things, and gentle to a fault. Although he has been either late, or called into work more often while I've been here than I had in my nearly five years of employ elsewhere. Which is a note worth a chuckle to me, but I can't. Why? Because I have to go pee, and if I made my diaphragm move too much... well. Yeah. BRB. ... Well. I'm back now. Not that you would've known if I hadn't told you. I think I'll leave you with that there. My pee break. CLEARLY, its a grand note to leave you on. Peace out, various slices of the holmes.