Hip hop hooray!

First of all let me preface this with a disclaimer: I am not a miserable person. I mean, others may find me miserable in their presence, and therefore think of me as miserable, but rest assured, I am 100% not a miserable person. But I do like to complain. A lot. Good LAWD, I love to complain! Not about people (unless they deserve it) but about things. Take for example my recent shower. The water didn't drain properly, so I had to stand there in ankle deep skin flakes and used soap. Now, I kinda remembered that the drain was yucky, (I mean, for Pete's sake, we got Draino on Sunday!) but I totally forgot to do the Draino jig with the drain. Drain's only remind me that they're stopped up when they are being stopped up, after all. So now, I have to wait until the drain is empty, meaning I'll probably forget again, and only remember during my next shower. See, there you go, I'm complaining.

If I could somehow figure out how to make this into a small blurb that was witty, funny, and well written, I would've posted this as a Facebook status. It's what I usually do in reaction to complaining about something that could easily be written into witty, funny, and well-written. I don't write updates to life. You will never read, "Planting strawberries, let's hope they survive." Or, "got the music going. washing the dishes. I can't wait to nap." as my Facebook status. I don't really like people that do. I also judge people based on their Facebook status's. And then probably do a mental complaint of them that I'll laugh to by myself. Cause I also like the company of myself probably more than others, at this point. So all this tangent thinking got me thinking.

I am at a point in my unemployment that I am no longer depressed, I am delusional. I'll own it. I'm self aware enough. I mean that I am simply unable to feel my own constraints at this point. I feel as though I could potentially do anything and be excellent at it (like crazy excellent) and becomes like the next Bill Gates. So I started thinking about what exactly I want to be paid for. And the truth is, I want to be paid for for my writing. It's fun to do and makes me think and form words and that must mean that I am still able to form a real sentence and hopefully still be able to function in society as a whole. (And still be able to put "excellent conversational skills'' on my resume.)

The stuff I want to write about is shit I love to complain about. Yes. This is where me being misunderstood as miserable could have started from. But the way I think about it is this. Andy Roony, at this point, has made a (fucking amazing) career of complaining. Yes, I know that he was a journalist, and in some circles is still referred to as such. But to me, he is the worlds best complainer. Of all time. And I want to be Andy Roony. I want to complain every day about shit that makes me feel like complaining. So here... is my new blog.