Saturday, September 24, 2011

My Drunk Blog

A personal favourite that I've published here has been The Drunk Post: while it doesn't look entirely good for my reputation if all the wrong people read it, rereading it sometimes gives me a laugh, and I'm sure it somehow makes you the reader laugh as well.  Sitting alone last night, I decided to evolve The Drunk Post(s) into an installation known as My Drunk Blog, where instead of rambling about nothing and seeming like more of an absolute train wreck than I actually am, I'll specialize on a topic where I'll give an intoxicated praise or rant.  (most likely rant) Perhaps this new idea was in part due to the fact that I was drinking all by my lonesome, and thus to produce a creative result in the end, I'd feel like I had purpose.  Either way, I woke up this morning (very painfully) to this, and now that I've watched my fill of Parks and Recreation for the day, I've decided to write my little preface and publish.  Apparently I decided I would speak to goals and expectations, which, now that I recall, was a premeditated topic decision between me and my friend Amy, who I happen to shout-out during this.  Do enjoy.

In the words of my queen, Lady GAga, I've had a little bit too much.  Yes indeedums, I've decided tpo have a solo drinking night in place of a drinking night with a friend, which didn't occur due to frenzied scheduoles.  Instead, I start confiend to my room, drinking beer while waching Jersey Shore and feeling sympahtiec towarsd my poor bueautiful Snooki.

firs toff, I'm alone at nome, as my roomie has gone to her aunt's house for the weekend or somethign like that.  it's only Friday night and I'm already bored off of my ass, not from being alone, but probably because I'm ahead on my readings and because I don't have class for the next two days - it's le weekend, duh.  Also, a big ass congratulations to one of my best friends, Amy, for earning a callback for her school musical, which happens to be Rent, and her audition happened to be but five hours ago and bitch already got a callback.  Mmmmmhm.

A new idea for the revolution of my drunken posts is to have thewm be in repsonse to a certain topic rather than just islly ramblings.  Thus, My Drunk Blog has been born this way hay.  What I mean by that is my previous drunken bloggings have been nothing but installations of mere humour, and while I very much presevre that humour because hey, I'm drunk off my fucking ass, I'd like to at least make them worth something in the end.  (perhaps that's my conscience talking - by making My Drunk Blog I'm excusing the fact that I drank tonight.  It's all in the efforts for creative liberty!)

Thus, this drunken post's topic (I'd say week, but I can't guarantee I'll drink every week, or if I do, I might not reach my comptuer.  Well, I hope to): goals and expectations.

I've spoken at great detail about the expecation family has put on me here on this blog int he past.  Society's current expectation is that a person graudtaes with a degree, whetehr it be from a university or college.  Further, society dictates that the better degree you have, the better job you'll end up with in the end.  AS I've previously argued, I'm a firm beliveer that salary or intellectual level of a job does not guarantee happiness: a person who goes to school for a neurosurgeon finds the exact same level of happiness than a person in a nursing program simply because they're following through witl what they are truly passionate about.  For me, the number takced on to a job as its salary is not definitave; while it is for my parents (that the greatest job for me is the one tha pays the most), I could care less if I earn a dollar an hour so long as I truly love what I'm doing.  I'll be just as happy being a high scool english teacher than I would be being a university english professor - when it comes down to it, I'll be invested in what I love, and the distinction between "high school teacher" and "professor" will mean nothing to me whatsoevr.

Switching gears: I've never been one to fulfill my goals.  Perhaps tonight was one of the more successful bouts: I ffirmed to a friend thaat I had to get myself drunker before I attempted My Drunk Blog - and that, I would say, I succeeded in, because the graveyard of beer bottles on my desk is depressing.  Otheriwse, I rarely achieve what I set out for myself.  I began to go to the gym now that I literally live two minutes away from it and that its memebershuip is included in my tuition, but morning after morning I wake up far past my alarmm and say fuck it, no gym todya.  I buess it comes down to a person's individual level of motivation: if you're a lazy fuck like me, you won't get shit ccomplished, but if you're a productive fuck, you will.  Ican't even begin to imagine what truly inspires motivation, but I do know my eyes are getting heavy as SHIIIT.

Well now, that turned out to be sexy.  Despite my speling mistakes here and there and everywhere I still rather sound liek an intellect, although inebriated. (The squiggly red lines in my page are glaring at me like a hooker who I didn't pay.  [I have never been with a hooker.  I am a colourful metaphor user.])  Anyways, adieu, adieu, to yuh and yuh and yuh.

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