Hope rides alone.

Hurray. Another day has come and gone, all with an extremely overbearing sense of uselessness. Maybe I won't amount to anything any day soon. Maybe I won't amount to anything ever.

Oh hello depression, is that you again? Lucky for you, I made tea and cakes!

I wish I had a better job, a real job. I would kill for a regular 9-5. Unfortunately, I didn't finish college, nor do I believe in throwing my money into something that I get nothing from. I've spent over 35k on college, and I don't really have much to show for it, other than a totally bitching English class my freshman year, and some astrological knowledge. I spent all that money and I learned that I was being forced into going to college.

There were some things that happened because of that massive 35k sinkhole, and I don't think I should have left Indiana. I had a band, a solid set of friends, and some good things going for me. The band was actually starting to go somewhere. Hell, I still get random friend requests from people every now and again because I was in that band. I need a band here though, and finding one proves to be extremely difficult.

The nurse today at the quack in the shack was nice to me today. Turns out that toe that was problematic is being problematic once again. She told me that I'm a "trooper" and that I have "iron skin." I wish that were the case.

The truth is, today I've been way more depressed than I have been in a long time. As giddy and excited as I was about getting trying to get that job at gearbox, I was equally as giddy while thinking about death today. As in, man, that would be a fun thing to do, die. I don't really see any validation in my existence anymore. I don't create anything anymore. I don't really get to help people. Sure, I put a smile on people's faces, and I talk to people, make them feel better about themselves, but on the inside, it feels like I'm throwing stones from my glass box. I've been told by multitudes of people that I actually impacted their lives, and continue to do so, but I don't see it. Maybe it's because impact on someone isn't physical, and I crave things physical. Physical possessions, physical contact, physical affirmation.

I wish I was a lumbering jock sometimes. Maybe then, I could be happy. The hardest part to overcome in all of this depression is that I know I'm exceedingly intelligent, and I am trying hard to make use of it right now, and no one is willing to give me a chance. I understand that some people make things of themselves, and I understand that I hold all of that power necessary, but dear god, I am so terrified. The combination of crippling anxiety and depression is just killing me.

I'm trying to get back into programming, but I'm essentially dusting off a very very old skillset to see if it still works. I did start programming a video game by myself essentially, and got halfway through it before I got bored and started doing other things, so I know I can do it. Maybe that will impress Gearbox.

Fuck.

This is a really big gamble. If I don't end up getting that Gearbox job after doing the ridiculous, then I don't know. Maybe I'll have to move. Change of scenery. Canada? Chicago? San Fran? The possibilities are limitless.

It's recently occurred to me that I can in fact vanish off the face of the planet. Searching my real name yields only about 3 or 4 pages of information, whereas my internet alias yields something over the top around the figure of 15 pages.

This entire blog thing seems very slapdash, and for that I'm sorry Nathan, but it's train of thought.

Resuscitation

I'm still reeling over the after effects of deleting my past, more or less. Its interesting to throw out things that I vividly remember, though the memory itself is meaningless. I'm fascinated by how torn up I am about it. This behavior is generally no bueno.

I've decided that I'm going to be hardheaded about this gearbox thing, trying everything within my powers to get me noticed in the next year, and trust me, those powers are in fact vast and... powerful. That was terrible. I apologize.

I'm taking another crack at programming things, I don't know how serious I'll get about it again, but it never hurts to stay frosty.

Sooner than later, I plan on getting a band scrambled together in the hopes to regain some sort of self respect. Lord knows I need some.

Perhaps I'm being too ambitious.

A good friend of mine, Nathan Grayson, thinks (foolishly) that I have some writing chops and that I should try my hand at that. Maybe I will.

There's way too many maybes in this blog post already. Time to get DEFINITIVE.

I am currently enrolled in a D&D campaign set in the wild west. I play an half-elf undertaker who's family was raped and murdered. Tall, looming, morbid, apathetic. Should be interesting.

It's almost time to get back to all this mess. Goddamn.

It should be noted that I am actively trying to make my life better, only asking help from a selective few, none of which have responded. Turns out that making your life better is an uphill battle. I've dealt with being alone a long, long time, I just had hoped that my turn at this would be over already.

Oh, and in case you happened to stumble upon this blog, or I directed you at it, the only reason I'm vehemently pursuing this Gearbox job is because it seems like it'd be a helluva lot of fun while also being challenging. There's no challenge to delivery driving anymore, lest we forget the horrible conditions in which one has to be a delivery driver. On the plus side, I have ascertained the skills to basically be "The Stig". Back to Gearbox, I'm not doing this because I'm some die hard fan. I loved Brothers in Arms: Hell's Highway, I think it was one of the best video game portrayals of WWII, rife with emotion. Borderlands is more than a metric shitton of fun. Its a metric^2 shitton of fun. That doesn't mean I went so apeshit for the game that I said to myself, "OH SWEET GOLLY GEE WILLICKERS, I WANTSA WORK HERE!" Hardly. If I was going to do something of that caliber, it would probably directed towards Bungie or Bioware. To me, fun is the most important thing in life. If you're not having fun, you're certainly pissing your life away. What's the point of ascertaining money? It's pointless to you when you're dead and gone. Well, I take that back. The pulp from it may make beautiful fertilizer for the flowers on your grave.