Trouble Sleeping. Convinced Myself It Isn’t Insomnia; I Just Have The Internetz.
I’m trying to complete my spec script for the pilot of Tradition, but I’ve so far limited myself to sexual double entendres and horribly subtle jabs at this girl I once had a romantic dalliance with. I think my primary issue with this process of working on a script on my own is often down to the fact that I can never really conceive any of the conversations I have with myself to be the sort of things which would occur between two separate individuals. You see, when I write or speak to myself on the toilet or in front of a cash machine (which has been the primary source of most awkward first encounters these days) - I tend to be very critical of the things I say. I question everything I stand for on a weekly basis. Except here’s the kicker: I do so until I’m completely satisfied with my answer. I could argue with myself for days on end, but lately I’ve come to realise how the seemingly critical conversations I have with myself aren’t critical inasmuch as they’re simply entertaining me on the way to affirming something I already, inherently believe in. Ironically enough, it’s the seemingly critical nature of the argument that occurs on the way to the conclusion which ends up further solidifying my said stance once I’ve decided to stick with a certain answer because I’ve grown tired of arguing with myself.
Alright. I’m going to stop analysing myself for now. I did this partly because I feel sorry for this blog. I’ve had it for a while now and lately I’ve become attached to the idea that this is worthless; every word, every photo or link that I so gratuitously reblog and such (which isn’t even really gratuitous because I actually reblogged those things due to my interest in them. But hey, I’ll keep the word there; it makes me look like I know what I’m talking about). I mean - just look at this! Who even fucking cares what I have to say on this one in about 21 million blogs? Sure, some individuals may actually read this from time to time - but I doubt the possibility that any of the shit that comes out of here actually change lives or mentalities in some way. It entertains, at best. Bores, at the least. And abhors when I want it to.
I’ve also found that writing this way somewhat likens what one often does when one speaks to a wall. Or, you know, a videocamera. I detest the latter much, much more. Can’t really be bothered to go into great detail, but it just seems kind of sad. I feel like the sort of people who do those things haven’t really had great experience with attention, and somewhat crave it as a result. On the contrary, some individuals probably pursue vlogging because they’re way too insecure to not have their thoughts heard by other human beings. I ought to stop now. I’m starting to get hypocritical.
