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Late Friday July 13, 2001 -
So I'm stuck at work, and I figured I browse around this diaryland thing and see what it's all about. I have discovered something now surprising:
Diaryland is awash in teen angst.
Now before I unload on these people, I'm going to give them a quick piece of knowledge:
HANG IN THERE. IT GETS BETTER.
No seriously, I'm having more fun than I've ever had in my life. The teenage years are only fun because if they catch you, they generally won't throw you in jail. That and the fact that the girls you date are still in that blossoming period...(Hey I'm 28, not dead...) Other than that, it sucks! You have no money (that's the key), and you're stuck going to school.
Let's check out some real-time Diaryland ring statistics:
scaredoflife 17
self-injury 287
selfdistruct 85
suicide 112
This is just one letter of the alphabet, people. Oh, an honorable mention....
beerbelly 1
Wow...all alone with his (I hope its a him) beerbelly. Anyways....back on topic....
Angst. I think what you really learn after you get over this whole deal is that you just aren't that important. Your problems, for the most part, aren't so huge that you're going to die from the weight. I think its called perspective.
I certainly don't take myself seriously. Most of you reading this would take one look at my Carrot-Top hair style (I'm in between short hair and long hair...sloooowwww) and instantly agree with me. The more you learn about the world at large, the harder it is to constantly feel sorry for yourself. You learn to cling to those things that are good, and not the woes of your small little world.
I noticed some other things about Teen Angst while trapsing around the diaryland. First off...we should ban poetry. Holy lord...you can take anything that happens to you and put it into poetry and make it sound like the end of the world...here watch this...
Papercut, by Kenny the Mad Monkey
A crimson line rises from my flesh,
Sweet pain caresses my soul...
The salt of life on my lips,
another paper takes its toll.
See? If we banned poetry and just make people spell out there problems it wouldn't seem near as bad as it does after you go all Emily Dickenson on it. Poetry should be reserved in a holy place for things that make you happy...
Guinness, by Kenny the Mad Monkey
I'll wait no more for heaven's door,
the passage through the glass,
if that waitress doesn't bring me more
I'm going to kick her ass.
Now, isn't that better? Joyous beerness sumed up in a brief poetic flury. That is what poetry is for. Expressing simple, stark beauty in a way that others can relate too.
Well, I'm going to step off the lecture box. If I ever feel like reliving the time I tried to live in a closet because my pimple faced girlfriend who I don't even remember her name dumped me, I know diaryland will be there.
BEWARE THE MOCs
I'm out
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