Yeah, I'd just stop doing what I do, but I might have to kill myself...

I've been going about this blog thing all wrong. I don't really have an audience, but what's the point if I don't write like I DO have one?

Oh well.

Anyway, since someone MIGHT read this... (This means you.)

I'm frustrated, duh.
I'm going to fix my life, fat chance, right?

But I do have many things I can and will improve. Why sit here griping about shit when I can just do it and get it done with?

Does anyone know of a way- short of medication- that would make it really easy for me to just keep my mouth shut and fingers tied and not talk to anyone for about a month that doesn't need to be talked to by me?

I mean, shit...I just won't shut up.
Seriously, how many times have you thought, "Damn Drew, shut up already."
Whether or not I was saying interesting or important things...which I rarely do.

Now, instead of making this a pity-party and a hate-on-myself blog, I'd like to post positive projects I want to be working on in the next few weeks.

I'll be sending in Poetry, and possibly art though such is unlikely, submissions for Matchbook.
I will follow that up by (eventually?) sending the same small-scale publisher guy a manuscript of my work- the original idea was a culmination of my better and most important work over a fairly large expanse of time. (this wouldn't be the case if I had been more prolific in recent years.)

I'm really such a mess right now as what I want to do and what I want to do for projects. Apparently I never learned to just focus on one thing and do that- just make it simple, don't over-complicate or try to over-do it. I always had to pull on so many thoughts about one thing or not forget the past.

Maybe I should just let old works die, be destroyed, forgotten. But where in self-examination does one begin to forget who they were?

I can live without being 18 or younger again, I can give up all the crap I wrote with angst and slight impersonation of Henley. That I wrote without form or function- just words and phrases that may or may not have been so very poetic. A bit harsh, but accurate and infuriating in retrospect. It isn't that I can't write- I have good ideas...I just can't pull them together in a constrained format with regularity.

I was my highschool's graduating senior class poet, and no one at my graduation ceremony heard that. They might have read it, but how the hell do I know that they remember that? Is it even a worthwhile mention?

What is it worth?

I no longer have Noone's as my inspiring home and family. I no longer am in the habit of writing down all my anxieties and observations in poetic form.

I honestly can only think of one person I was with that might have come close to appreciating artistic vision, and then I realize that I never really understood artistic discipline.

I'm a C student when it comes to art.
Even Photography.
I should sell my cameras, give up even entertaining the idea of the trade based on a C+ in the course. Yeah I did better in Photojournalism...but do I have what it takes to go into Photoethography and Visual Journalism?

Why don't I ask for assistance and help from people who have more experience with what I do? Why can't I apply the processes and techniques appropriately and do every thing I need to do to make the grades, do the work expected, and succeed?

Do I really have outset and completion anxiety? (no one ever said I did, though I think my psychiatrists, current and former, may still be hung up on the idea of me just being ADHD or even being Bi-polar to some degree rather than just having a bad interaction with Strattera.)

Why don't I know how to just admit my feelings and thoughts to people without scaring them off or pissing them off or waiting so long to do anything that I miss any window to be open and honest and forward with people.Companionship counts for a lot.

I miss my mother, I honestly thought recently that she was the only thing keeping me together- disciplined, under control. No one else kept me in line right, not Dad or friends or instructors. I would never tell instructors, employers or some of my friends or even family about problems I had- because I had made so many excuses that I didn't feel anything would warrant exceptions.

I never admitted having a disability, I probably STILL won't admit it in the actual sense- but would do so as necessary to get extra time on the GRE or what have you.

I went through 5 years of college without ever once asking for accommodations. I honestly didn't need them, but I should have taken them, I obviously didn't rise to the challenge of being in a University and having the expectations and regulated schedule that I was given.

Really, is it that I have trust issues, that I can't commit, or that people just don't want to put up with me? Or is it because I push them away, and honestly am not worthy of love, affection, or time and effort necessary to be considered a partner or worth while?

I'll be lucky if I can meet my own expectations, to find myself to be more disciplined, more in control of my stress...alone or not.

I have loved, and I have lost, and maybe perhaps that doesn't need to be a concern for me anymore.
I have much more on my plate than past mistakes.

Really, maybe I just need a steady breakfast of will.strengthening confidence.