Succumb to the Voices of So Called Reason
I seem to be making a habit of writing when I traverse to the buzzing silence of the Microsoft cafeteria - if you can call two days in a row a habit, that is. I have a terrible and curious dilemma which haunts me. It is etched in yesterday’s entry and emoted in this day’s. Heh. I hate my job. I become increasingly disillusioned with it day by day by day by day as I sit listless before a wealth of information which gnaws at me like enplagued rats from the surface of my CRT. There is no escape because I have to persist - persist until Brynn and I have the monetary ability to depart from this hellish locale (Seattle) forever. I want to leave now, however - at least from Microsoft. I wish for music to sate my life with its nescient yet transfixing gleam. Heh. Linguistics also grips me with a supurb fascination. Mayhap a job in the Czech Republic teaching to youngsters the tongue of my heritage will be a rewarding (yet challenging) experience. Now all that surrounds me is a haze of stagnation, though - hours spent drowning in a sea of syntactic semicolons which bound statements in a Java-esque mundanity. The computer industry is a joke. The computer gaming industry is the epitome of that joke - a silly hoax to cloy the curious public with idle anonymity. What a fucking farce!
At one point in my life it seemed I had grandiose schemes which could ensnare the universe with their captivating, creative rigor. Now I am flaccid and live in a routine which leaves my back aching in the forlorn morning if it is not (to a “T”) followed. What has snuffed the spark of brilliance which guided me from cavern to cavern? Now I am funbling in the darkness, almost ready to resign myself to an uncomfortable outcropping on which I may eternally rest. Oh woe is me. Heh. ’sgitabeer!
At this second I am proud that I have again begun to pour my tenuous (not turgid) thoughts onto paper. A life unrecorded is one discarded (cf. “The Ballad of the American Dreamer”). I miss Lee and his extremist brilliance. He simply could not compromise - budge - let his sharpened spires be blunted to gently rolling hills. I envy him for that. I, too, should not lose my extremist nature. For it is this portion of the psychotic human psyche that gives the alluring brilliance, to the drive to create, the will to bring into being what was once not even limpid energy. Still - one may drive oneself insane in the process. Again, take Lee as an example, eh? It is the price to be paid. I do not want to lose the craziness, the piercing edges of caustic will. They wil not succumb to the voices of “so called reason”. No fucking way, man.