She's So Far Gone And She Feels Just Like A Fool

My gmail is all confused and thinks it's night and I have little ghosty foxes sitting around a table drinking tea. This is related to nothing. I just felt the need to report it.

I've recently become quite concerned with the majority of the population at large and their literacy skills. Mostly their writing skills, but maybe their reading as well. So, yeah. My original statement stands. Before I begin, I want to point out that no I don't believe I'm a perfect writer and/or proofreader. I know I use commas in completely inaccurate, places. Like just then for fun. But I do proofread what I write. But, because my brain knows what I was trying to say it doesn't catch all errors. Which is why authors, newpapers, magazines, etc. all have editors and proofreaders. Because the more eyes looking at a written piece the better. And I know I shouldn't be so serious and judgey when I'm looking at people's narratives on Flickr and their meme thingies on Facebook....but by god, I am. These are adult people! With jobs and stuff. And their literacy skills make me shudder and shake my head and wonder why they don't care a bit more about what they're putting out into the world. Or not just that...but their image. The impression others may be making about them based on their writing ability. It truly does boggle my mind. Because I'm an asshole.

Now, when I think about that previous paragraph where I'm being all judgey and assholey about the way people write on Flickr and Facebook and then I recall the quality of my IMing ability of late...I get concerned. Because my live typing is so off the charts 'tarded at the moment that I've finally decided that I must have something wrong in my brain. I don't know how people are able to discern what the fuck I'm trying to say to them sometimes. It's that bad. To me, anyway.

Which leads me to this. As I was in the shower this morning I diagnosed myself. See, my arms were doing that tingly, numb thing and I went to the doctor and nothing was found and then I paid lots of money in deductibles and then my dog had an emergency and lost his tail and I've paid out lots of money in vet bills and all this time my arms have felt better. No tingly. No numb. But now that he's better I'm beginning to be convinced that I have a major issue in my brain. But what it must really be is something I decided is "I don't like to have a lot of extra cash about." Why else would I feel the need to go to a doctor right now just to say "Look, when I'm IMing and being silly with my friends, I leave words out and make little sense. I clearly have a brain tumor. Run some expensive tests! Please! I'll instantly gain some IQ points as I recieve the bills and all will be right with the world." Yeah.

I put on my favorite pair of "get these kids off my damned lawn!" pants the other day and went to my rental office to complain about most everybody that lives in my building. As I'm doing so, the girl reveals that she lives in my building, too. So, that was awesome. She can go around and tell others that it was me, I'm the curmudgeon. She came up with a plan to help with the cigarette butts, though. Put a bucket out there for them to place their butts in. Souonds good, yeah? Except it's not sitting out where the people smoke so they can actually put their butts in it. Oh no. It's sitting on my landing. Where the butts are thrown. So...what? Is that so I can quit my bitchin' and help clean up? Pft. If they keep this up I'm gonna need an extra pair of those pants.

I was thinking a bit that I'm boring and wah wah oh woe is me why does anybody like me and being all downer Andrea about it. Until after I talked to Randi last night. Now I no longer believe that I'm boring. It's everybody else. It's TV. It's people out in the world. I'm not being entertained enough to feel motivated or things of that sort. Yeah. So. Do better world. You're on notice.