What are you thinking about? Fried Chicken.

For the last few days I’ve been really trying to be introspective. It isn’t easy, and I think it’s probably a challenge that everyone should try out once in a while. There’s just something about getting inside your own head that will really show you how messed up it is. When you sit down to make a list of what you really spend time thinking about, you’d be surprised as to how asinine and silly your mind really can be. Trust me, spend an hour (or more) writing down every though you have, or dictating them into the voice recorder on your phone, and then tally up how often you talk about certain things.

The lack of robot bodies will seriously amaze you.

I did this recently while I was driving from Kansas City to Springfield. Rather I just recorded a two and a half hour conversation I had with myself like some sort of psycho, but still I had the conversation ready to figure out exactly what I think about. Now I edited somethings off the list, because lets face it you don’t even want to know the thoughts that go through someone’s head an hour after they finished drinking a 64 oz soda, do you?


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First we get the money, see, then we get the honies, gee.
I wish that it wasn’t true, but I don’t think you can ever stop thinking about money until you have so much of it that you feel guilty. Then you think about all the little people you smashed into oblivion while you were climbing your way up the ladder. I think mainly these days, I think about money out of habit, and I think it’s a good one. I’m incredibly bad with it, you see. I’ve always been way more broke than I should have been. In the last 6 months or so, I’ve learned how to be a little bit better with money, and that all comes from how much time I spend thinking about it.



It’s almost an obsession at this point.


Ok, less Zombies and more the post apocalypse society. See, I’m adamant that not only will I survive said apocalypse, but also that it is my higher calling to help rebuild society afterward. I sped a lot of time thinking about all of the administrative details of running such a society such as the logistics of feeding people, defending them, and making treaties with the insane military groups that I’m sure will be roving around looking for places that they can raid for food. Then of course, there are also the more advanced steps, like building wind turbines for electricity. Once you have power, though, that raises the issue of hiding that you have power so the raiders don’t come after that.

It’s a pretty nasty cycle of thoughts like that pretty much constantly flowing through my head at any given time. What can I say, my brain just likes to think about the tragic deaths of millions of poeple.


How incredibly bad I am at Everything

Color me hyper-insecure, but I still can’t convince myself fully that I’m actually good at anything. This is probably going to be a self-esteem issue that I carry with me to my grave. I think the worst part about being crazy insecure me is that the more people try to encourage and support me, the more I am convinced they are lying to me as some form of false encouragement so they can continue to gain entertainment from my complete and utter failure.  I guess I should add, “Insane Paranoid Delusions” to the list, also.


Animals that Taste Delicious

I am a giant fatty, and I’m okay with that. I spend what is probably an unhealthy amount of time thinking about things I

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If looking at this picture doesn't make you ravenously hungry, then can I have yours?
can eat. I like eating. Gluttony is definitely the sin that I’m afflicted with the most. Worse that just thinking about eating, I think about eating meat. Almost without exception, when I think about food, it’s meat that I’m thinking about. Of course peanut butter cups also sneak in there on occasion, but mostly its the dead flesh thing.  I don’t know if this is some sort of subconscious sign that I don’t have enough protein in my diet, or just some minor brain disorder that makes me think I’m a velociraptor.




There Must Be Something Wrong With Me

I’m no medical professional, but I’m fairly certain there is something seriously wrong with me. I’m not just talking about being a hypochondriac here, either. You see, I am one, but I go beyond that. Sometimes I’ll wonder if maybe I have a brain tumor because I laugh at things I shouldn’t laugh at. Generally, I follow up things like that by reminding myself that I’m just a horribly human being, but every once in a while, the idea that I’m not to blame for being a horrid monster seems like its easier to deal with than the alternative.

Besides, this morning I was all cotton mouthy. That has to mean that I’ve got a brain tumor, right?


Do I Even Care that I’m doing it wrong?

The absolute truth is, I want to be able to make enough money from blogging that I don’t have to do anything else. It would be awesome if I became massively wealthy and internationally famous, but really those aren’t goals I actually have. The only real goal I have is to become a full time writer. I know that from the standpoint of how you make money writing online, I’m doing it wrong. I don’t think I actually care, though. Sometimes I get into a little funk about how I’m not really accomplishing my goals the way others around me are. Then I think about the fact that I’m not another cookie cutter person. I’m pretty damned different, and I celebrate that.

If you look at how you measured success in the 1970s, Bill Gates was doing it wrong, too.


Do I have new comments?

I admin, I am totally addicted to you guys. I actually use the WordPress APP on my phone to notify me when I have new comments. Of course I also use Tweetdeck on my phone so I know when you’re talking to me on Twitter and Facebook. I live for it, and I check every few minutes to see if there is anything new. I love talking to all you guys out there in cyberland in one form or another. In fact, I like talking to you guys on twitter so much that it goes back to that whole “doing it wrong” thing. I still don’t care.

Sue me. I’m verbose.