The Long Long Belated

I realize I haven't updated for a while, so here I am - because, you know, when you haven't done certain things for a while, you tend to forget why you stop doing them, and subsequently proceed to start committing them all over again.

I swear to all that I hold faith in that forever I shall abstain from the mention of Army-related content in conversation, unless requested to or stumbling upon one already ongoing, and even then, only with great reluctance. Because Army has sucked enough of my life without my bitching and whining about it. Besides, it's Not Allowed.

Realize now, though, that said update, being subject to this new criterion, can hardly be longer than one paragraph without either the inclusion of subject matters too personal to be of unscandalous general scrutiny or too cryptic to be of general interest. Who gives a fuck for the crowd's censure?

What makes a blog entry, anyway? Should I conform to the plebeian brand of pseudo-diary/itinerary style and bore my readers to death, or approach the themes with insights and revelations too intriguing to pass off as personal? I could right now scribe a whole post without reference to any real event and call this a blog, but only over my dead body.

It's just so obnoxiously me to have to self-internalize and self-rationalize everything I do.

Anyway, recently (since last night with Alyssa and Daryl) had this new craving for what we now call ''ghetto-drinking''. Ghetto-drinking, put simply, is the act of procuring from an obscure (read : 7-Eleven) source a relatively cheap-ass bottle of alcohol and flagons of Big Gulp before plopping down next to the river and engaging in alcohol-inundated and very-much-uncensored talk till either a) one party loses consciousness or b) the fountain of life and everything nice runs out and we are forced to adjourn. Beats clubbing hands down.

Have also taken to other haute, quaint and not-so-haute-or-quaint hobbies/pursuits such as collecting PEZ dispensers, late-night/early morning deathcabbing cum tete-a-tete with Dwayne, Game Theorizing everything and going out with somebody who isn't as fond of me as much as I am fond of said somebody and I would like said somebody to, and in all that I now disclaim and proclaim no mention hereunder of amorous designs but, at the same time, no dismissal either of such claims because I am such a prideful, insecure and incessantly cryptic jerk. Anyway am not too sure if not-sleeping can be counted as an activity to note, since it's really not an action but a lack of inaction which counts as an inaction.

Oh and a digression about being obnoxious - I am taking much pleasure in nobody understanding this post.

So here it is, here I am ; pretty alive but not living pretty.