emo emo emo

I was about this close to selecting the "Georgia" font, because that's the font my boss asked us to consistently use at work. And then I thought, you know what? Fuck it. I'm not at work. And I'm fucking tired of Georgia.

I wrote a whole other post about 30 minutes ago, and decided it wasn't right. Not only was it bad writing, but it was the tritest shite I've probably ever written. In truth, it was mostly related to faith and how we know what is real or not. Honestly, who hasn't had those thoughts? So who would want to read a whole blog post about doubts? The funny thing is, it's related to one of my oldest posts.

For the majority of my childhood, my mantra (if you want to call it that) was honesty, open commentary, and direct communication. Going with your feelings. Believing what you feel. Using it. I got older, and like most people, I decided that feelings aren't everything, and that impulse shouldn't be the main reason behind every action one takes (don't get me wrong, a little impulse can be good for you).

Two years ago, I experienced the two most lucid days of my entire life. In the midst of this clarity of mind, I wrote about it and I'm so grateful that I did, because I don't think I would still really understand it if I hadn't. I had a revelation in which I determined that feelings "accompany a present logic, justifying it." Amusingly enough, the whole post that I just wrote tonight had something to do with how I wasn't sure I could trust any feelings to justify my faith, and that maybe everything is a big chemical reaction within my brain. Again, I hate writing things like this, because it seems so typical and I feel like a debbie downer.

I was feeling so emo for a while today, too. I was looking around at all these middle-aged people in a horribly bad mood, trying to figure out what they're doing, going behind each others' backs, gossiping, complaining about one another . . . and I just couldn't take it anymore. The mere instance of someone speaking aloud while I was trying to concentrate took me to the brink. (Of what, I don't know. Probably just leaving the room. Which is what I did.) So I went downstairs to get a can of Diet Vernor's (see 17 Sept 2009 for reference), and they were all sold out. W. . . T . . .F? I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who ever buys it. I once made fun of Diet Vernor's, but I have to say that the Diet version has a way better can than the regular Vernor's.  As always people, we report, you decide.