2002-07-24 - 10:23 a.m.
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"Thizzzz izzz MAH howse and if you don't like it, you can get he fuck out"
Belmo:*watching Zima commerical*"...bullshit.........bullshit.........bullshit. Well, at least they got the taste right. It's bullshit."
Can anyone tell me if the last time they grabbed a Zima that a hot woman dressed up like the Blink-182 album cover came over to them on roller skates with an ice cream sundae?
For that matter, can anyone tell me the last time they grabbed a Zima?
I had a weird occurence when I was working on the movie last night. I put on my "Belmo's Massive Playlist" which is more or less all the digital music I own, and the Guess Who's American Woman came on, followed by the Anal Cunt version of American Woman.
It scared me beyond words. Then I started laughing. I don't know if it was an omen or anything, but damn was it interesting.
I have a good feeling about this movie because everyone I show it to tells me that its realllly good. Not like "yeah that's pretty nice" but along the lines of "damn, thats good." Which is good, becasue it means I'm not wasting my time. But at the same time, I hope to god it's all sincere applause for my work, because if I'm happy off of bullshit, and someone comes along who doesn't give a shit and bursts that bubble, well then I'll be fucking pissed to hear that I've been lied to and that I've put many hours of my life into utter shit.
It's happened. I one time wrote a "short" story that was 30 pages long, only to have everyone tell me it was a big piece of shit. Even if it was good to me, it still told me I needed improvements.
Which is odd, because in this situation, this diary situation, I don't care. People tell me this thing is utter shit, that I'm wasting my time and anyone's who comes across it...
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I've also been told to die, grow up (in that order), get a life, stop whining (in that Arnold Schwartzenegger way), find something more productive to do, N*sync doesn't suck but I do, can't I find better things to do with my time, why bother if you don't care what people think, you're gay, you're an idiot, you're retarded, I hope you die, you have no idea what real life is, this is a bunch of bullshit, this never happened, no one likes an asshole. The list goes on.
You'd be surprised how many emails I get from this diary, something even I'm surprised at. That means people are reading this. Since I don't advertise, what the hell are THEY doing with thier time then...
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...but I don't seem to care. I'm really not all that interested in people's beliefs when it comes to my diary. THIS IS MY STOMPING GROUNDS, a place for me to vent and rant and create. I put it on the internet so I would (A) never lose it (B)always be able to add to it whereever I went and (C) This site is so easy to use, I think a few diaries are run by monkeys.
Either that or some people simply cannot communicate worth a damn.
Of course, with this universal updatability and the ability to read back to older times, to see how I felt that exact moment in time, other people can read it too. I'm very well aware of this. I have a shitload of diary entries, this one being 220 something. That's a lot. That's a lot of text to have written. It's been a year and half of writing, and I've updated pretty regularly. So, at this point, I'm pretty sure I get the idea that other people read this.
Please note the emails section of this entry. I'M WELL AWARE OF IT, THANK YOU.
And yet, I just... don't... care. If you don't like looking at this, good. This isn't for you to read. I do cater to entertain everyonce in a while, like the script for the Change of Heart episode, but its mostly for myself, because while you might find some things here funny by relation to real life, I find them hilarious in relation to MY life.
Shit, everytime I read back, I find myself going "Just what in the fuck was I think...oh that's right." This is almost like a treat for myself, reminding me of what was done.
You'll notice that a lot of this diary is all about either bad times I mull over or me semi-patting myself on the back, a practice I loath outright. That's because I'm actually proud of myself sometimes, a rare occasion, but when it happens, I want to capture that feeling so I can reread it someday and go "Yep, that was a good day" or I'll look back and go "You know, today sucked, but THAT day reallllllly sucked."
I think I've evolved as a writer because of this diary, and although I've probably stayed the same person, neither better or worse off than when I started, at least I've become my own person. That makes me happier than anything can, anyone can, ever.
This is my shit.
BMC
What did you just say? - What's he gonna say next?
