Was bored at work today

Work is kinda boring right now. I'm hoping this will change before long, so that I'm at least not being paid to sit in a computer chair and literally do nothing. I'm not joking, we are literally doing nothing at work right now. And I've been there only a week.

Anyways, I spent the day browsing the internet. For a few hours I was reading the news. Something I only do when extremely bored. I really don't give two shits about news in the world, after all.

Anyways...I could go on to describe the things I read about...or I could just link you to the articles in my typical lazy-man style and be done with the matter.

I read several news articles, from hybrid cars that car companies are developing, to stuff about the upcoming election...but I mostly stuck to the tech & science articles. The following two, and some of their related articles, caught my interest in particular:

Internet’s assault on teen America continues!

Don't blame Miss Bimbo!

It seems the parents of the modern generation have a habit of not taking proper responsibility for their children, or for admitting when they've fucked up in the rearing of their children. Struggling with the concept of making a mistake, they turn to the easiest scapegoat of all: the Internet.

Back in the day, parents blamed television. Now all those kids, who were corrupted by the evil electric box, are parents themselves. The "television" these days actually comes in two flavors! Internet, and video game. The particular flavor involved in this blog is Internet.

Yes. It's the Internet's fault. Just like it's the TV's fault they're all bad parents, right?

Yeah, that's all I got for now. I vaguely fancied the idea of ranting about Dungeons and Dragons, namely about 3E v 4E and how people are really stubborn, but...I figure most of you people who would read my blog, wouldn't really care much for tabletop RPG.
I'll give you a hint though: I like 4th edition.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

Well, I suppose I may as well post some things, and try to push back the memories of depression. Though they ever haunt me, it shames me to see how far the depression can sometimes take me, and it's not something I want to be known for.

However, I will say this. To those of you who see that I am so stricken with inner turmoil and troubled brooding, or are told that this is going on by those more perceptive at least... I often feel as though my heart is torn in twain. When you read those tales of high fantasy, where the hero must be given the choice between something wrong (but with gain) and something right, they make it out to be a tough choice.
I, however, look at such choices with envy, for those are the easy ones. When you choose between something obviously wrong and obviously right, no matter what you would gain from either choice, the choice should be fairly obvious, whether you wish to take the right path or the wrong.
Furthermore, I am no hero. Just an ordinary, boring young man, who seems to have made many poor life choices. Hence why I am hesitant to make yet more choices that would alter my life too drastically.

Such choices are never the ones you must make in the real world however. Often you must choose between two, sometimes even more, paths that are both right and both wrong, for very different reasons down each path. What do you do, when you are presented with two choices, both rife with hardship but both ending in a path of contented happiness, at least as far as humanity's limited ability to foresee the future can reveal?
You deliberate. Some more than others. And eventually choose one path. But you will always wonder what the other path held, and will always regret not knowing. Not that you regret choosing the path you did. But truly, in life, you regret the things you did not do. Such is the curse of all humanity.

Suffice to say, though the paths change with time and strife, they are still presented to me as clear as ever before. The people involved, though pain has been caused on all sides, (except for this one newly revealed path that has yet to stand the test of time and thus no chance to cause true pain), still hold a place in my heart. I want to add "some more than others" but I no longer trust myself to make such a judgment. My heart is hiding feelings even from myself. Or perhaps there is no difference in feeling and am merely hoping to fool myself, though I cannot explain feelings for any of the people involved.
Such are the workings of the heart. Those we hold close, we not why we do so. We just do. Because it feels right.

Many people give me sound and wise advice on the choices I "must" make, or the choice that is the right choice to make. However, even amongst this advice, there is no strong pull down one particular path. Perhaps it is merely that everybody is lacking one perspective or another, for none know the full story in truth. Even I do not know the full story in truth, but I am in a position lately where I feel as though I know more than the others involved. Perhaps I am just talented in getting information from people, when the need arises. High charisma? I wish.

I don't wish to be told which choice to make either, for is it really my choice then? No matter what happens, this is a choice I must decide before too long...or else certain paths will erase themselves altogether and the choice will have been made for me, due to inaction and deliberation. I could choose the easy path, the one most natural, and simply be satisfied with that.

I will never truly be satisfied, however, at having never taken risks and never chosen the tougher road, or the longer road. When I play video games, where there are multiple paths to reach the same end, I often backtrack and go through the other paths, clearing the entire area, before I continue as I should. You cannot do that in life. You cannot turn around on the path of life and "try out" one aspect of your life beforehand. Just has life has no reset button, you are not able to explore the landscape that is presented to you as your life journey.

But enough of this babble. You do not wish to hear the pining of a damaged heart yet to choose its' path.

To events of true import, I have acquired a job. "Finally!" I'm sure you're thinking, if not actually saying aloud. Yes, I see you there.
To put it bluntly, I am now a "text agent" working for a company called kgb. They used to be INFONXX. In Europe, they are simply known as 118.

As far as I have been able to make out in the past week, they are a company that answers questions. Any question. Call them up and ask them for information, and they must answer. Of course, there are things they cannot or will not answer. They must maintain a professional business demeanor.

It seems they are currently trying to launch a text version of this, where you simply text in the question to their service and you get a response. It need not necessarily be a question, but simply a request for information, such as movie times or when a train runs, or even a dictionary definition.

I find that this particular position suits me well, not just because of my previous position working for Blizzard up in Austin, but also because there is no real conversation with these people. If you reply to the answer you receive with a second question, it is sent to a completely different, completely random person. This is even less face-to-face than I was getting at Blizzard!

Okay, truly, I miss working for Blizzard and the work I did there. While I hate phone conversations and I hate discussing serious matters in general, doing it through a text conversation is something I've become quite natural at. Working at Blizzard only honed such talents.

This shall have to do for now, and perhaps I can see what possibilities arise further down the road. For now I will settle for making $7.25 an hour at this simple job, which is rather unrefined still as it is a new product for them. My primary goal is to acquire my own housing, my own apartment, though I would not mind sharing it with one or two close people I am comfortable with.

There are other goals I have in mind beyond that, things I wish to attempt which may prove impossible due to mistakes I have made in the past year or past three years, but I will not know how impossible they are until I make the attempt.

I shall not bore you with the details. I have rambled on enough, and I'm sure your curiosity is sated. Peace.

And randomly, I shall include a poem which fits well with the thoughts currently tumbling about in my mind:

Robert Frost: The Road Not Taken (1915)
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Sigh

You know, I give up on this. I was going to add to this blog because it feels incomplete, but I don't know what to add, and I'm not sure if there is anything to add anyways. I just hated the idea of posting something so completely depressing and emo that I wanted to balance it out a little bit. But, I can't seem to get myself to add to this, and it's kinda long anyways. I'll just put this up as the rambling thoughts I was experiencing one night.

It wasn't last weekend, but the weekend before last, on Sunday night. I was sitting on a friend's couch, after midnight, and couldn't get to sleep because I couldn't stop thinking. I was thinking about certain people, and what they've done...and what I wish had happened. Things like that.

Don't worry too much about what's written here, I'm mostly over it. I am still depressed most of the time, about the stupidest things, but not this bad. This is just something I ended up typing out when I was in one of my worst moments.

__________________________________________________________________

I suppose many people have come to realize that I am typically a very depressed person. To the annoyance of many people, I am well aware. I was once good at keeping that hidden within...I think. But I guess I just can't pull that off anymore. Certain people have taken notice of it...people who typically don't notice such things.

It shows, I have been told. Perhaps in the way I carry myself. But these are not the kind of things you tell people...not normally. Yet still, my soul craves to spill out, and I'm wondering if maybe I'm losing myself.

Perhaps I have...and I just haven't figured it out yet.

Don't ask me why I am so depressed. I don't know the reason myself. I ask it of myself each night before going to sleep, and I can never come up with a concrete answer. You may find me late at night, laying back on my bed, or couch, just staring at the ceiling. Wide awake. I don't even know how far back such feelings go. Sometimes I feel like they've always been there.

Maybe there's just something wrong with me.

I don't know what to think of the world around me anymore, either. It all seems so very alien, and I feel like I have no place to call home, to call my own. The only true belonging I have is my laptop, and even then it is just a machine. What joy is there in that? It is a mere escape, some over-the-counter medicine for this hurt in my psyche.

Many people have heard me say how I miss being young. How I would love to be at a simple age of eight, or twelve, or ten, or even younger than that. The world was simple back then, and my mind was focused on what truly matters: having fun each day, as much as possible, in the ways I know how. I look back at the way I was then, and though I think I was such a fool, I was at least happy...

At least I think I was. I have to think I was once happy. I can't remember things very well, but if I do not think such a thing...well, what kind of person spends their whole life in depression? Such weakness is not to survive in this world where the strong climb over the weak in order to achieve their own desires.

Some people are better than that. Some people... but they are few and far between. I guess I just don't trust people very well anymore. I have some good friends... Though sad to say, only a small handful within physical reach. I wonder, perhaps, are they too late to save me from my own depression? Or is there anything even worth saving?

It's a silly thing, to lose all confidence in one self. Yet it happens...

Sometimes I feel like I've forgotten how to feel. Like my heart is numb. That's a weird thing to say though, for obviously I do feel.

When I smile...I have to force it, for the sake of those who would see. I can't seem to feel happy.

I have to tell people I love them, for I know I do...I know it's not gone. But I can't feel it anymore, and it isn't a pleasant feeling. I don't even act as though I do anymore, because my heart doesn't have the feeling with which to act.

Even anger is something beyond my reach these days. I know there are people I hate. I know that certain people should get on my nerves, when acting a certain way. But I don't feel the anger. I can't fake anger very well, though I guess some people don't see the mask.

I have to put on my mask again. I did it once before, but then it was to protect myself. Now it's because I don't want people to know how empty I am inside.

That's the perfect word to describe how I feel...empty. Hollow.

People tell me I'm a great person all the time...I'm not bragging, either, because I don't believe in it. I just know that people tell me all the time that I'm awesome, or that I'm a great person.

I have to stop myself from just staring at these people incredulously and ask “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Confidence in one self...believing in one self...they are both important things for surviving in this world. Then why do I lack it, and yet still live? I always tell people they have to believe in themselves, before they can believe in anything else. Perhaps that is why I don't believe in anything anymore.

I really just feel that empty, that numb. And I don't even know what caused it. I can't remember the last time I was really happy. I mean...really, truly content. I don't think I'm meant to be content.

You know when somebody anesthetizes you for a shot? Or maybe when a dentist numbs up your mouth for, perhaps, a root canal? It's just like that. You know it's still there. You know that you're still whole. But you can't feel it, and the only reminder you have is when you feel it with part of you that is not numb, or see yourself in the mirror. But you can't touch your own soul. You can't see your own soul. So how am I to know that it's still there?

There's other people in my life. Close friends. Friends who, maybe once upon a time, I'd hoped to get closer to. Friends who I no longer talk to, or even see, due to the circumstance of my life. Friends who I talk to almost daily. And I don't feel very close to any of them, however it may seem. I feel distant from the people around me, as though I'm not even here.

I don't even care for my family anymore. I seek to get away from them. The only goal I can visualize in my life is to leave my family and get back to surviving on my own.

And yet I don't want to be alone. That is the one thing for sure, out of all this confusion in my head. I can't stand the idea. I'm a solitary kind of person, and yet I don't want to be alone. Quite the paradox, I'm sure you are thinking, but that's the way of things. I could even claim that I'm afraid of being alone, these days.

But at least if I could get away from my family, survive off my own hard work, then I would have less conflict and less stress in my life. Even if only a small amount.

But then what? Am I just surviving to keep surviving? I don't want to end my life, far from it. I couldn't imagine doing such a thing. But what's the point in living just to keep living?

I've made it this long in life because I've always had some sort of purpose, some far-distant goal in reach, hoping that everything goes right. But I've lost my purpose, and everything went wrong. So what am I supposed to do?

I thought I could live on by living for another, giving my all to make the people I care about happier, make their lives less stressful. It worked for a while, but things continue to fall apart. Things just get worse, no matter what I do. So what am I supposed to live for? What is my purpose supposed to be?

And as much as I try to be unselfish, I still want other people to give their all for me as well. Over time I feel bitter about my so-called “friends” because for all the times I share with them, I still see them being self-centered, asking for more and giving little to nothing in return. It's hard to be selfless when you feel so embittered by the truth.

Perhaps I'm too much of an idealist, to want to have a purpose in life. I read much fiction, of all sorts. And always the characters have a purpose. But what sort of purpose can I have in this world, lacking such wonder and amazing things? There is no adventuring in the way that I crave. There is no magic, nothing to set me above being a normal every day human being. No special power. I'm just human, with my own flesh and bones to apply to the world.

Is that why I feel the way I do? I don't feel special? I can't even begin to fathom if that is the reason.

Everybody is the protagonist of their life...but don't protagonists have goals? Through all their character flaws, and their bumbling, they're supposed to find something good, something worth finding. What have I found? Nothing but pain, heartache, and loneliness. Nothing but failure.

I am still young, this is true. But it seems I am not so determined a person as I had once believed. What is supposed to keep me going? Hope itself? I've lost such a feeling.

It seems I have made friends who pray for me, who care for me, and genuinely wish good things on me. I don't feel I deserve such friends. Is it that these friends are supposed to keep me going?

How can that be the case, if I feel I don't deserve such treatment?

How can I find my hope once more? I've hoped, and hoped, and hoped...from one thing to the next. I've been through many hopes in my life, and I think I've spent all my hope. A man can only be beaten down so much before he loses sight of why he should get up.

I love heroics. Anytime I watch a movie, or play a game, or read a book, where somebody gets all heroic...you might catch me tearing up, as though I just saw the most beautiful thing in the world. I crave such things in life. I want to be the hero. But why can't I hold true to such heroics?

Heroes never give up. Heroes keep on going, against all odds, because they believe in their cause. Because people believe in them. Because if they just give up, they would be nothing.

Thus why I feel like nothing. I feel like the heroic adventurer who has been battling through hordes of undead minions...and now stops in the battle to wonder if there's an end. If the goal is even attainable. One who has forgotten the goal, and now knows only the fighting.