That and me not getting enough sleep blows. I think my eye's infected again. Fuck. God damn opportunistic chronic infections.

Well, this morning, I went for a bike ride to return a video, and so I go out in shorts and a t-shirt and sandals, and I'm thinking, wow, it's kinda chilly. Then, while I'm biking, I keep on seeing these people walking around in winter coats, and I'm thinking, "Huh? It's not that cold, is it?" Anyway, I'm biking back, still convinced that it's not really that cold, and then I see there's still snow on the ground. I'm like, "whoa! Holy crap, it's actually pretty damn cold out. Why don't I feel that cold though..."

Anyway, I also later discovered that it snowed a litle this morning, before I woke up (at around 11:something). Apparently, my absolute denial that it's still winter, has changed around my body chemistry so I don't think it's cold out anymore. Weird, yet cool. I like the cold anyway.

Well, in light of the not so incredible amount of response I got from that last post, and the fact that a week of vacation will surely lead to either some sort of mildly interesting event or so much boredome that I end up writing something either way, I figure I am not actually ceasing the publication of everything... I might be a little more close minded, but in recent contemplation of the issue, it's occurred to me there's no value in writing something in a private journal. It's negligibly better for me than not writing it at all. It's still keeping my thoughts and feelings exclusively to myself, because I can not realize a journal of any sort as a sufficient entity for expressing myself to, I need an audience, and this arrangement works out best. I have an audience, however small, and that audience is of undefined size, so long as I don't check my sitemeter stats too often, and at least partially anonymous to me. I am most comfortable speaking to an arbitrarily large anonymous crowd, at least such is the case here.

Anyway, I've been screwing around since last Friday, and have suddenly realized how much work I need to get done this "vacation." So, time to buckle down and torture myself though some number of hours of homework.

I feel like I'm not alive, but I, and everybody around me just doesn't know it yet.

Maybe it's the lack of sleep talking, I don't know. Before I get to announcements, I'll get to random occurences. I just finished watching Dead Poet Society. That's a good movie. I watched it after I watched The Sixth Day, another good movie. DPS was a movie that really seemed to impact me, although I personally can not explain why.

Anyhow, the statement is this. Nothing good has come of this blog. Ever. I rack my brains for positive effects of me taking the time to write this, and can think of but one, which is that it is a way for me to spend time writing, which is probably a good thing, however, the choice by myself to bother to publish it has resulted in very little other good. Ok, so I've enountered a few new people as a result, but still, negative results are far greater. By writing, I inadvertently piss the hell out of people, which I don't want to do. I mean, I've learned by now, that it's generally a better idea to piss somebody off to their face, or have them be even more pissed off by not doing so. No good comes of me making my life a publicly documented event.

I mean, there's only about 6 (random low number) people who actually read with any regularity, but the people who read it "regularly" don't necessarily read regularly enough to keep up with all that's said, so they end up misinterpreting something that I correct in a later post. Expressing ideas is better done in person, because I never get any response from people who I don't see in person, or talk to directly through other means. I just feel challenged at this point in my life to justify the time spent writing what's on my mind, from time to time. And don't tell me in person, because I don't want to hear about it directly to me (directly meaning in real time, ruling out face-to-face encounters as well as online "chat"). Instead, use the damn discuss thing that I bothered to leave there. If I can't justify keeping this up, it's just not going to happen. I'll write a private fucking journal, I'll be more inclined to be more open there.

Maybe I'll write more in the event of a cataclysmic event in my life. Oh, wait, no, that'd have to be the apocalypse, because my life is incredibly boring. There is nothing in it of any substance. So a while ago, I was writing an essay applying to a summer college scholarship thing at Cornell, and I had to write an essay on what I was most proud of myself, but I couldn't think of anything I felt enough pride about to write about. Sure, I've done some stuff unusual, such as getting a 5 on the AP Exam as a sophomore in high school, but... it's just a test. I don't feel that it's that much of an accomplishment. I never have pride in my work or accomplishments. I don't feel that anything happens as a result of me doing something. My existence seems inconsequential.

I suppose now I will just wait to see the results of writing all that, the response, if any, that I get, will surely be of the variety that I don't particularly care about anyway. That's all it ever is.