Vainglorious Vicissitudes

Huh. The Gender Genie mostly thinks even my whiny emo posts were written by a guy. I honestly didn't expect that.

Its accuracy stats as a whole are way lower than the creators predicted, but I wonder how much of that is due to people trying hard to fool it. I kind of wanted to, but wasn't trying to per se; I just copy-pasted all of the sufficiently long posts I could find.

Of all the sentence-memes of this form, this is the only one I'm willing to cop to so publicly:

If, as you live your life, you find yourself mentally composing LJ entries about it, post this exact same sentence in your Live Journal.

The sad thing is, I never end up posting most of them. (See my previous entry and the comments thereto for reasons why.)

Some of the more amusing results, or snippets thereof, from running my journal through the LJ Markov chain:

8. Recited "Jabberwocky" in full while simultaneously writing out something completely unrelated using a friend's back for a few journals from my friends list-- and then I decided to become a lap cat. I'd consider this a thoroughly positive development were it not for the rest of her life,

Sometimes I amuse myself in unexpected ways. Today I saw a magazine cover that said "DAMS: Who needs them?" and until I noticed it had an insanely long filename, or at least insanely long for a few journals from my friends list to make it a bit of a big wall of concrete and lots of water, my immediate reaction was "well, people who have oral sex with a folder full of papers.

I'm doing this for the IRS to care about. 7. Eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich [edit: or a plain peanut butter and jelly sandwich [edit: or a plain peanut butter sandwich, either] (at least not that I now have available a much more efficient way of gathering opinions. Not that I'll ever be able to wave this in my life,

"Infinite monkeys typing on infinite typewriters might be able to vent all my frustrations here, but the mother's: "It'll be CPS's business if you want me to re-post a cleaner version.

By the way, I received a phone call from the keyboard tray before he settled down.


And a couple that might have some deeper meaning if you squint:

I dropped eye contact and seethed for a few moments, but her next words, an assertion that she'd treat her child how she wanted and I'd better not look at her like that, sounded to me like a treadmill of futility.

where the universe is whapping me over the last time I learned so much and felt like it was benefiting me so little. Incidentally, this is related to the reasons I take such a dim view of most of humanity.

Once again, I've dropped a few journals from my friends list to make it a bit more manageable; once again, I'll add them back if their owners ask. And once again, although the correlation was unintentional, I've done this right after vacuuming the apartment.

Dammit, after making that last post and jotting down the notes I came out here to jot down, I was supposed to go back to reading. Clearly I need to be locked in a small room with all my history books and a computer that has nothing but Word on it.

I find it amusing, however, that having a large project I ought to be working on is apparently just the thing to get me posting on LJ again.

Aaaaand a few minutes after my last post, I check my friends list and find a post forcing me to delve into the reasons I haven't been journaling in considerably more detail. Someone had written: "I find myself writing less lately because I feel as though I'm not getting much of a response or that people just don't care about what I have to say. Have any of you experienced this problem?" So, of course, I was obliged to respond, in part:

I write partly for myself and partly for my friends, but the basic problem is similar; I've been feeling less motivated to write for myself but also feeling that no one will be interested in what I write, and oddly enough the two feelings seem to be so closely linked that I have trouble telling them apart. I think that's because when I write for myself I think of my future self reading what I write in the same way that I would think of my friends reading it, and right now I keep thinking both of those hypothetical audiences won't care.

I further realized, though I didn't add, that this in turn is part of the dangerous trend toward solipsism and even nihilism that my brain has been taking lately: I don't feel like I or anyone else oughta care about things because nothing really matters in the grand scheme of things anyway. This isn't stopping me from getting work done or making long-term plans (no, plenty of other things are stopping me from doing that, as always), but it does have some rather eerie feelings associated with it--like having a hard time believing any of my friends really exist whenever I'm alone, and having a hard time believing any of the things I remember ever really happened.

This is actually getting scary of late. I've always (or at least since I was a teenager) had brief flashes of this mental state from time to time, but it's never been so pervasive or long-lasting as it is now. I'm worried that it's gotten permanently etched into my brain chemistry or something. I want to change it but I have no idea how. Frankly, if I were a suicidally inclined sort of person, I think this might push me over the edge if it didn't improve in another year or two.

(Let me hasten to state now that I never have inclined that way. I think that's due to luck more than anything else, but I'm glad of it--and if that fact ever changes, I will certainly tell people. I'm not sure what there is to be scared of, psychologically, if I'm not scared of that--but somehow I'm still scared.)

I've just gone back and privatized (because I hate to delete things completely) a handful or two of old entries that were time-dependent and wouldn't be of any interest to anyone reading them now (they were mostly along the lines of "can anyone give me a ride to X tonight?"). I'm announcing this in case anybody feels the need to protest and demand them back. Somehow I doubt anyone will.

I've got this whole day stretching ahead of me in which I ought to be able to Get Stuff Done, yet every time I contemplate embarking on a task that will take more than a couple of minutes to complete, or has multiple steps to it, I freak out and can't even make myself take the first step. I don't know if this is ADD or simply an offshoot of the depression I've had to admit has been reemerging lately, but either way it's pretty messed up and leaves me terribly frustrated.

I feel like I may just fly to pieces. That sounds more ADDish, really; the depression comes on when I let myself think about anything long-term. Like what the hell I'm going to be doing with my life in a few short months.

Either way, the stupid meds aren't doing anything except making me vaguely nauseous, and possibly worsening the arrhythmia.

I hate knowing that my life is better than it's ever been in a number of ways and yet still feeling that overall it sucks worse than ever. I've grown so much as a person--how can I possibly be at such a dead end when it comes to basic survival? Why can't I be good at the things that seem to matter in the Real World? And why do those things have to matter so damn much?

I'm oversimplifying. And I'm not specifying a lot of what's going on school-wise because I'm not ready to talk about it. So basically I'm just wanking here. Being a stereotypical self-indulgent LJer and shit. But then what is this medium for, right?

I shouldn't be so damn self-conscious anyway. I oughta shut the fuck up and just post this before I get off on the very tempting meta-tangent of analyzing why the hell this post is so much choppier than my normal writing style.

Do I get some kinda booby prize for using the words ass, fuck, and shit in the space of three sentences?

I must really be grumpy. I think that's some kinda record.

(On LJ, that is. When I'm speaking, expletives fall from my mouth quite naturally, but during the second or two it takes to write them out I fairly often decide not to bother including them.)

Whoa. I just glanced at my Recent Entries page and the poll I posted a while ago was showing up in some Cyrillic language or other. Then I refreshed and it was in English again.

Has this been a night of strange portents, or what?