Xanga, I came to you thinking I should post because it has been a long time, but to be completely honest, I don't really have anything to say.

I think I preface almost every post with that, and then I say a bunch of stuff anyway. S'weird. Maybe I'll just revert to the way things were when I'd just post about my day and how I thought of things. Let's give that a go.

I woke up today. Somewhere around 2:30PM, I think. Got a...little too long shower. Felt good, so I let it be. Rolled my way upstairs and threw some dirty clothes on. Played Disciples pretty much from the moment I went back downstairs until I left for some lunch. I decided the Empire is my favorite race to play. They're all awesome, and grimdark, and baroque, and fun in their own way, but I like the Empire's ideals and aesthetics the best, methinks. Hopped in the car, gave Kurt a customary bye-five and ran to Chipotle. Chicken fajita with everything on it and a sparkling grapefruit, like usual. Ran back, found Kurt on the couch with the TV, same as I left him, sat down, proceeded to continue playing Disciples and eating my Chipotle like a nerd with a fork. Some other people arrived for the later DnD we'd be playing, Kurt and Tommy retreated to play Alpha Centauri, I followed Gameboy in hand. Pokemon Yellow. Feeling classy, fuck yeah Parasect. Hung out with 'em, watched their game go to shit, had a good time. McNerney showed up, it was time to DM some good times. We sat down and had us a session, the room smelled of the saurkraut they'd made a second ago and we're eating. Cracked open some Dews, got our sheets and threw some dice around. The party is on a Demiplane named The Last Resort ruled by some Fey Druids from badass town with badass flags and the spell, 'Badass' whose DC to resist is 2badass. They went on their four part quest to return home, and attempted to steal a Titan's champion belt from him while he slept. He awoke, and was jovial to have guests. They sat down to dinner and talked him up, not sure what to expect from this strangely calm and unsettling god-like man. Halfway through dinner while the party attempts to entertain him, he flies off the handle and misinterprets what they say as insulting. Smashes his fist through the middle of the table which breaks in a billion directions and hurts everyone. Draws his warhammer and shouts like Macho Man Randy Savage. He is quite insane. Not like, super powered or something, but actually insane. Believes the PC's are a pod of rampaging land-whales. No joke. He fights, but his schizophrenia gets the better of him consistently, and despite his god-like powers he only gets one or two good hits off before the PC's realize that a CR 21 creature can and does only have 10 Dex, which they proceed to damage unerringly. He becomes paralyzed at 0 Dex, and mutters crazily as they consistently coup de gras his immovable body and steal his loot. Mutters things about killing a Minotaur, thanks Kord for bringing him visitors, laughs as they tear into his flesh, and upon dying screams that he's free and melts away. PC's are busy going, "Woah. That was fucking terrifying." We end the session pretty much after that. The dinner party and subsequent fight took a long time. Played from about 9PM to 1AM. I read a new book after that. Everyone started dropping off, sleeping, driving home, what have you, and yet again, I'm here at 3:20AM, playing music and typing away at Xanga feeling significantly less alone than I probably should.

Life's good, Xanga. Times have been tough, I guess, but it helps to cultivate into this person that I am, and I really like me, so I can't think that going back and changing anything would be a good idea. So, live on, I say. What doesn't kill us...well, okay, what doesn't kill us doesn't exactly make us stronger, but some of it can. And some of it does. And...Well, at least enough of it has that it helps me deal with everything that hasn't. Regardless, we can say that what doesn't kill us certainly does make us...different. And whether that different is good or bad, I don't know if I can say, I'm really not a great judge of my own character. But I feel good. Feel like a good person. I know I try really hard, anyway. Crazy over the top sacrifices of my financial, physical, or emotional resources seem to make other people feel really good, which makes me feel pretty good. Makes me feel like I'm a good friend, y'know? A good person, you might say. So, I keep throwing money at vacations when my friends are a little strapped for something like gas and groceries, and I forgive people for doing terrible things to me, and I give my friends rides places and help them move. No, not every time, I'm not Superman. I pick my battles. There are times when I need to help myself, you know?

It's just that sometimes I'm not sure what other people think of me. I know, I know, I'm a spank for caring what other people think, right? What a moron. But I really do. I'm a social being, and I really do thrive on others' opinions. I feel there's a distinct difference between caring about what they say, and changing myself to fit it. If someone thinks I should be more self-serving, I wouldn't blindly change to fit that bill, but I'd like to know, you know? Sometimes I'm not sure if my own opinion is enough to guide my development. I mean, at the very least, I'd like to take other peoples' opinions into account, you know? Try to make everyone happy.
Well shit, that's an impossibility, innit? Probably shouldn't have said that, actually. Okay, okay, so I don't care to make everyone happy. Just those that I care most about. Okay, really, I guess I'm only out to make myself happy. Which I feel is still cool, because I derive a lot of happiness from making other people feel good and being a good person, right? So it's not like I'm being selfish is it? Hmm. That is a strange way to think of it. If I'm doing a good act because it makes me feel good, is my motivation still good?...Actually, what difference should it make? If I'm helping that old woman across the street because it makes me feel good inside and improves others' opinions of me, maybe it's selfish. If I help her across because I plan to extort money from her for helping her and I want her to owe me a favor, that's pretty definitely selfish. And that I know I'm not doing. So, I'd be more in the gray area. And to be honest, that gray area doesn't bother me at all, because at the end, whether or not I feel good about it doesn't matter as much as whether or not SHE feels good about crossing the street. If I derive good feelings about helping her, that doesn't hurt her. So, fuck no, I refuse to admit that's selfish.

Enjoying what I do does not make what I do a selfish act. Making it a selfish act requires effort on my part. That's a good statement to come away with, I think.

Yeah. Feels good, tonight. I'ma go sleep off this lovin' feelin' and wake up fucking ready for some fucking Bdubs. It's good to be back home. I miss the serenity of vacation, but god damn to be placed back in the mortal coil where I can do real good and get my hands dirty makes me feel so fucking human.

[Nothing really to say.]