Lots of Monkeys

And everything is. Nisa, Quix, thanks. I’d mention other people but they don’t have reliable ‘net handles. I may not have spoken to you today, but I’d like to thank you. I’d also like to send a shout out to Bob, in purchasing.

Eight pieces of veggie sushi and a bottle laced with glycerol ester of wood rosin later–nothing’s completely resolved, but I do have a better handle on this whole, “episode.” And once again, something has been learned.

Time for me to make some phone calls. It’s time for a little videogaming tonight.

Whenever I’m angry with someone and I talk to them, it always turns into a conversation about my inner self and my inability to open up to others?

“You have to do some introspection.” “You’re too perfect.” “You’re arrogant.” “You have to consider other people’s feelings.”

“You’re (insert fuzzy new age crap about ‘finding yourself’ which I’m sick of hearing).”

I don’t know anymore. Maybe I’ve grown a bit cynical, but why do they always focus on me, like it’s my fault. Me. Me. Me. The world doesn’t revolve around me, people. Maybe we should take a look at you for a change–hell, maybe you did something wrong for once. Maybe you got upset for something you think I said. Maybe you blew everything out of proportion, maybe even thinking I had some sort of hidden agenda–all I wanted to do was talk

Or it could be me trying to make your life a miserable hell on earth.

So. Arrogant, self-serving bastard who looks forward to nothing else but making your life a pit of despair–or to paraphrase a friend of mine, “Just a boy looking for your love.”

You decide.

Oh yeah. Found this interesting site on the web.