The One Where She Fails At Life

So my attempt to set up some type of blogging schedule completely failed. Namely because with work and school, mostly work, any motivation to do anything beyond eating and sleeping flew away like that damn car in the Harry Potter novels. More than a bit like it actually. It pretty much embodied everything about that car. The erratic flight pattern in which there were instances when motivation would strike but then just as quickly fly away.

I figured my best bet was to roll with it and not force it. I mean, who wants to read a blog that’s clearly been forced? I know I don’t. I figured I’d show some kindness and not inflict that pain on the few people who still stop by, because you know, I’m nice like that. Well, mostly.

Life hasn’t really deviated much from the eat, work, sleep routine, unless you count my completely neglecting anything related to school. It seems that damn car just keeps making its rounds. I’m hoping to get a little more motivation and plan on stopping by Target or some equally cute notebook having store where I can stock up and start reading and taking notes. The class isn’t difficult, I’m familiar with the content because I lived it, I just need to get familiar with the terminology and the stages. Of course it would help if I actually did something. I’m hoping to remedy that so my next call with my mentor will be of the “I’m amazing.” variety and not the “I fail at life and I’m a useless human being.” kind. We’ll see if I’m successful, though I’m not holding my breath.

Old On a less real life note, after months of neglect and distance, some of us1 got it into our minds to try and revive Vicarious. Yes, I know, message boards are a dying art, but we’re stubborn and keep trying. I have no idea why other than a sad attempt to relive our glory days and maybe ignore the fact that we’re old.

None of us are quite willing to embrace it, however, and that tends to lead to nights of drunken debauchery, where we end up cursing ourselves in the morning.

Let’s face it, we do not bounce back like we used to. Half a day of recovery has now become a 2-day recovery, if you’re lucky. Generally, if I’m honest, we’re looking at 3 days and that just doesn’t make the one night worth it anymore. Hell, it stopped being worth it once we surpassed the 1-day threshold but we’re still desperately clinging to our youth, or what’s left of it.

Laugh all you want, you’ll be here soon, and then very quickly you will understand and curse the day you laughed at us old folk. Meanwhile, we’ll be old, miserable and cursing your existence. Oh, who am I kidding, we do that now; the cursing your existence part, not being old and miserable, at least not yet.

Now that I have, to my mind, created a sufficient blog, with all the appropriate “I fail at life”, “This is what I’ve been up to”, and “This is what I am up to” segments, I’m going to putter off and pretend to do something as equally productive. Though, let’s be honest, I’m probably just going to take a nap and pretend that I actually did something meaningful today.

Us, old folk tire much more easily so it’s not wonder we can’t actually get anything done.

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