sometimes it's personal

dozens of little complaints missed their chance to have their fifteen minutes of vent here over the past year simply cuz i have not had the time and don't keep track and let things go in the blink of an eye and don't take complaints seriously anyway, just like to vent the frustration rather than distract, when there is time... so today i have a vent about personal writing...

not so much personal life, cuz i have a roommate who takes care of me when i need help (and vice versa) and people around i can count on if i need something and i also have lots of social friends for sports and games and lots of activities, though a few (music, movies, shows, photography, all the expensive fun) i only get to do if i pay for whomever i go with), the missing piece is that i do not have anyone close personal and intimate to really show interest in me (like a best friend relationship or a relationship), but still and all, personal life is as busy as i want it to be...

here on the internet, however, in the written gardens, in the many blogs i update regularly, even on the social networks where i have many people on my friends list, there is a void, little or no actual interaction, no one has the time or interest to read and share the words...

there's a grumble, cuz i love sharing words... not just cuz i love attention and recognition and praise and even some critique (or there's something more than just critique cuz critique alone has suspect meaning for me, i mean, why critique if you don't care to find something positive to say as well... i am much more interested in focusing on the positive), but also cuz i love literary interaction, writing letters and sharing in words, especially when someone actually cares to read, understand, and share the meanings in the words...

nobody really wants to know me anymore...

maybe tomorrow :}

overworked, underpaid, still overfed

the most meaningless complaint of all may be this one, that i work too much and am not appreciated nearly enough in the most tangible way, though the appreciation of respect and non-material thanks has improved dramatically in this year (am i finally getting through to them?... well, all but one and a half i think)... and yet, the poverty line come closer every year and still, the body bloats a bit more when saving on the foods would be wise for body, mind, and wallet...

see?... i don't even have my heart in this complaint...

see ya next time...

everybody has a price

and i am looking for someone who does not, so i must not believe the title, though it becomes more and more challenging to not believe the title with each passing year as i see person after person bought off by the holy dollar...

i wish that was not so...

money

What does the banking "industry" actually produce, I mean, we call it an "industry", right?... is it fair to ask why an "industry" that produces nothing is the most powerful business in the world?... how did we give the people who watch our moneythe power and profit they have?... what if we all just went to work, brought home our money, and kept it... '

Forbes rankings are atrociously obscene morally, ethically, and simply... the only businesses cracking the top 20 are the oil and gas monsters and the people who control how we communicate... oh, there is GE and Wal-Mart... and after these there come the utilities and insurance...

the most corrupt non-productive business, the money managers (banking and insurance) and the survival (utilities, energy, communications) take most of our money and perpetuate the ever growing gap between rich and poor, between those who will survive and those who will die earlier due to inadequate medical care or having to use inferior or dangerous products...

capitalism fails, in the end, as miserably as any other cultural structure for the same reason all others failed, human greed... while the pretentious human facade is love thy neighbor and give peace a chance, the real human remains cut throat, selfish, and ultimately, suicidal...

the human god is not love, the human god is money, power, and propriety...

people

especially people who call themselves friends, but do not actually care enough to be friends, to care about my feelings, or to even keep in touch... people are so disappointing, guess that is why they pretend to care and go through the motions each day to maintain relationships...

and hundreds of thousands of words shared, what comes of the time and energy given to people who throw the words out or bury them somewhere... so why continue?... for the love of words... for the hope of finding a true friend who will make the time spent sharing with all the others worthwhile...

not so much a complaint, but a sigh of acceptance and hope :}

the answer

is not here

wish people

i wish people were more honest, open, reliable, believable, and real... i wish people kept their word, followed through on promises, and actualized the ideals of loyalty, integrity, devotion, faith, and trust seriously in the real world, with each other, and not just in a delusional bond with imaginary beings... i wish people understood the power of hope, the strength of being true to self and one's own ideals... i wish people knew the power of wishes, especially when we can make wishes come true...

i wish there were more wish people in my daily life...

people are so frustrating

especially friends who just disappear or simply stop communicating, even if it's just for a few days it is so frustrating, for me, at least, because i live in the moment and know any moment could be an eternity or the last moment i breath in this body and a few days could be how long it takes for someone to find my corpse if i died, especially over a weekend...

that is one reason the appeal of a compatible roommate appeals just a teeny bit more than the appeal of living alone, but it is not usually enough of a reason... helping or falling in love push the decision forward... i miss falling in love... so much...

but people are so frustrating also because they are so fear-driven and fear repels true love and i am made of true love, so do the math... it is a very lonely journey for one who is made of true love in this fear-based culture... i'd complain about loneliness, but that would be too meaningless even for this blog...

loneliness is another reason the appeal of a compatible roommate appeals just a teeny bit more than the appeal of privacy, but it is not usually enough of a reason... helping or falling in love push the decision forward... i miss falling in love... so much...

pretty weak complaint, huh?...

ego's complaint

not to reference portnoy at all, not that i want to diminish his complaint, whatever it was, because everybody's got the right to complaint, after all (and you, yes you there, the one who found this post by searching for portnoy's complaint for some book report or whatever, yes you, you have the right to complain too, unless you plaig... plageriz... pla... cut and paste this witty missive into your report, in which case, you did it to yourself so you have nothing to complain about)...

but naturally, ego's complaint is you might be the only one who ever finds all the wonderful words and nonsense i've put on line and written for years, since the dawn of time, even, and i don't have any sort of massive following of crazed fans twittering and tossing underwear (or their cookies, chocolate chip please) at their computers as if i could see (hey, turn on your webcams before you do that sort of thing, aye?) all about how wonderfully in love they are with my amazing cleverness and lovely way with words...

i don't have time for the time it takes to grow an audience of nubile young innocents and their mothers of text phone junkies who worship the written word (i had more written word worshippers in the eighties before al gore and rocky invented the internet, after all)...

i mean, i'm not craig ferguson, but i do have a quip or two worth noticing now and then... and ego, of course, believes i should have millions of ranting and raving fans waking each morning to rush over to their computers just to see what i might have written overnight...

seriously, where are the intelligent people who would recognize the priceless value of reading me?...