I imagine that this condition is probably not uncommon among writers, but I really do have the worst work ethic as a writer.  I feel like I should treat it as a job, and I guess I'm successful in that regards, since I don't do anything and just sit on my ass.  I would fire myself right now, if I could.  As it is, I'm part of a labor union.  The labor union is using their strong-arming techniques to prevent me from firing myself.  It's a messy matter, and I'm not even sure if the terms of the current bargaining allow me to even discuss the details of it.

Here's the amazing thing I've discovered: being unemployed is even more boring than being employed.  I asked my family to give me some things to do, and my father is probably going to teach me some technical skills that I could really use.  He's heard me complain (bitterly) a lot lately about the fact that my generation is barely capable of working with their hands, myself included.  If I were a dedicated artist, this would not be a problem, but I am simply a terrible writer.  I have been working on a novel (among other projects) for over a year now, and it has only given me 17,000 words.  Perfectionism is a disease that runs deep in my family.

I'm trying to practice writing, to force myself to develop better habits.  With nothing interesting to talk about though, I thought I would have nothing interesting to write about in this journal.  Then [personal profile] loquacious gave me an idea.  She jokingly (or maybe half-jokingly) told me that I should write about cardboard.

So, why not?

I consider this a writing challenge.  I am going to attempt to write about cardboard.

Cardboard is also known as corrugated fiberboard, but that's a name that only its mother will use.  Cardboard is very insistent that it be called cardboard.  Its beginnings were quite modest.  It once had dreams of lining tall hats....

******

While I was writing this though, I came upon a greater idea.  My grandmother, many years ago, gave me an entire Encyclopedia Britannica.  What I'm going to do borders on the insane, but I want to humorously abridge the entire set.  This means I'll have to read the entire thing, but I'll give it a shot.

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I have slept one hour since 2pm yesterday.

As you can probably guess, I'm an insomniac. I used to think that it was just things that distracted me, that I spent too much time on the internet. Nope. Even when I try to sleep, I can't sleep. I will be asleep in a couple of hours though. I bought some dramamine, which should rectify the issue. A couple of nights of taking those at a regular time should hopefully get my sleep cycle back to where it should be.

In the time I've been awake, I have watched the entire second season of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, moved 25 30 pound bricks (that's 750 pounds of bricks) from my grandmother's house back to this house, chatted with my brother to find out what his mysterious and unknown political opinions are, cleaned out my rabbit's cage, and then cleaned up the house.

Then I ended up studying some Japanese in order to improve my comprehension of it.  I've been translating songs as practice.  With my friend's help, I've been trying to wrap my head around the Japanese particle に.  Nippon, I will not be foiled by your grammar!

Now, it seems that I have converted [personal profile] loquacious  to mind-breaking gorgeous insanity of Basquash.  That's two people now I've hooked on this show.  It's a show about basketball playing giant robots.  That's as much as I can say without sounding like I've had a complete parting with reality.  If I tried to say more, I'd sound like a lunatic.  It truly needs to be seen to be believed.

I have a date on Thursday.  With a girl.  Haven't had one of those in years.

A short history.

I was once a boy. I was born and raised in the state of Michigan. I've lived most of my, so far, short life here. Other than a (largely forgotten) troubling childhood and an incident involving a tombstone, my life was a pretty nondescript suburban one. Perfectly middle class and thought to be quite intelligent, though I never had any desire to be the best I could be.

I ended up going to college out-of-state, in the dark wasteland its pale inhabitants call "Ohio". I went to a liberal-arts college there, got a decent education in literature and religious studies, and absolutely loathed the people there. Even to this day, it still amazes me just how horrible undergrads can be. I feel bad for parents who pay for that education.

Anyway.

After that experience, I hopped over to Japan and taught there for a while. I was situated in a city in the Tohoku region of Japan--the cold, frigid, rustic north--and despite the problems I had with the Japanese educational system, I loved it over there. Even now, I miss it.

I'm back in America, waiting to hear on a job I applied for in Turkey. I've been trying to find part-time work until that starts, and when I'm not doing that I'm usually re-connecting with friends I haven't talked to in a long time or working on the various fiction projects I have.

I miss having good conversation. It seems, to me, that most people have retreated to their own little pools. I miss the larger forum, where people had interesting ideas instead of being slavishly devoted to an ideology.

Who wants to live in an echo chamber?
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I am a recent immigrant to this journal called Dreamwidth. I boarded a coffin ship that set sail from the overpopulated and decrepit land known as Livejournal. I have come here searching a new life and new opportunities.

I'm using the alias Nemo, but who I really am isn't much of a secret. Nemo is Latin for "no one", an Oromo word meaning "The Man", a Greek noun root meaning "grove of trees", and the the oceanic pole of inaccessibility, among other things.

I enjoy short walks on polluted beaches, candlelight dinners by myself, and if I had one wish I would probably ask for gas money.

I'm amused right now that as of this post, I have ten interests that are shared by no one else.

I'm hoping to enjoy this fresh new start, since I've become incredibly bored with blogging (as it is).

Nemo dat quod non habet
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