My ego is out of whack. According to Freud a healthy ego is necessary to balance out the opposing forces of the id and superego. I blame my parents for raising me so poorly. Oh and least I forget society which helped warp my psyche into a delusional mess. In order to stave off further madness I decided to take radical action. Therefore from now on please call me Robert Robertson.

Go To Hell

I am tired, not physically mind you but mentally. Not caring about anything or anyone has taken its toll. Whereas I once thought shutting everything out would be easier then facing reality; now I know it is so much more difficult. I am not bitching, moaning or even ranting about my apathy but instead am lamenting how much has gone by. The world waits for no man and he who stands still most definitely is left behind. I regret not caring and have started to wonder if I ever did. My parents have commented on my selfish behavior for years, as have many friends, and if anyone would know it would be they. Yet now I don't even care about number one. The only meaningful thing in my life is life itself. I exist. No more, no less. I was never a go getter; in fact I usually let everything come to me. Everything from learning to a social life was never an active concern. Luckily I was blessed with an inordinate amount of luck which translated into being surrounded by high quality people who provided a very interesting life. I have little to regret. Perhaps it was only meaningless fun but the stories I have are sure entertaining. I was never mistaken for an heir to Jonas Salk yet in an oh so unique way did I find meaning in life. At this point that is not enough. Truly I wonder if the past is ever enough.

The path I followed inevitably led down a lonely, quiet road. I am not sad about who I am but am disappointed in what I have become. A friend of mine posted his theory on the major religions. Several people in response critically commented on his post. It was an example of relevant debate, or as relevant as a post and subsequent comments can be on a web log. Ultimately I found merit in each argument but felt there was much left unsaid. For a moment I felt the desire to critique, expound upon, and reflect. Sadly those feelings rapidly dissipated. I once loved thinking about religion. Nothing else can inspire such fervor in many while simultaneously drawing the ire of many more. It is the dream topic of conversation for those select few who enjoy arguing for arguments sake. Now it seems so very unimportant.

I am not sure how exactly one goes about conditioning the self to be numb but I am very aware it can be done. There is a solution to my predicament, whether it is simple or grandiose is the question. I tried waking up and saying today is a new begging only to find myself shortly realizing it was just another day. Volunteering, working or even just engaging others in conversation may be enough. Thus far it remains to be seen. I do know that regret is a dual edged sword. One can be cut by what they haven't done as surely as by what they have. Reluctantly I must admit a certain respect for those people who dare to be stupid, traversing haphazardly through life facing both success and failure in equal strides. My hubris is based upon knowing what not to do and daring not to do it.

Who knows maybe I am just crazy or perhaps the strong stench of urine emanating from Hamster's cage has finally gone to my head.

I am the hamster god. The littler critter worships me. Every time I put food in the cage Hamster, which is the hamster's name, carefully sniffs my fingers and watches me with unabashed admiration. Sometimes I catch him starting in my direction, as if his saying with eyes Bob is the most masterful of masters. I should go to the pet store and purchase more potential disciples. The human world may very well have forsaken me but Hamster knows the truth. His admiration leads to my adulation. Who knew that deification could lead to such happiness.

Go to Hell

unless you are a small furry rodent

I decided to become a stalker. Who knows it may be you and if so please do not call the police, at least not until I break into your room.

Not a whole lot going on with me. November has been a wash, much like October before it as well as September, August, July, June well you get the point. Perhaps New Years will provide some much needed excitement. I am considering a trip to either Chicago or D.C. at end of December. My college friends/worst enemies will be there and when we get together things turn ugly. Women are accosted, trees are torn asunder, children lay crying in their beds all the while copious amounts of alcohol are consumed. It could be fun especially considering the alternative of spending the holidays sequestered in the trailer watching cartoon network marathons.



Go to hell

From now on all questions asked here are to be considered rhetorical in nature. So please do not answer them.

I was chatting, in an AOL IM chat room, with a friend of mine who moved several hundred miles away. He invited a friend from home to join our conversation. Said friend made a comment about wanting child-type footy pajamas and I happened to remark had she been abused as a child. It seems levity is not my strong point, as she in fact had been abused by her father. Well, if the helpful advice from earlier doesn't pan out I can always pursue a career in heckling.

go to hell

I need to get a life . The last several months have went by in a blur. Usually that occurs when one is busy, engaging life to its fullest. That doesn't apply to my situation. Somehow I have managed to turn tedium on its head and created a vacuum where time moves at rapid albeit tortuously monotonous rate.

I am opening up the floor to all of you. Please give me some suggestions as to what I should do with my life.
go to hell

Devil-Goat

I feel like writing tonight, so all six of you who read this should feel honored to experience this rare treat.

I am fairly sure that a goat, who is the minion of Satan, lives underneath my trailer. Nearly one year ago, I first caught a glimpse of Devil-Goat. Of course, a week later, my parents, and girlfriend discovered that goat was really a possum. I tried to believe them but deep down the truth was undeniable. Lucifer himself has taken up residence beneath my home. He is the Prince of Lies so it is reasonable to infer that he would shape shift into a possum in order to throw me off. I am not entirely certain why he chose to move underneath my humble abode but I am absolutely, unequivocally sure the Almighty Lord of Darkness is here. Perhaps he finds my pathetic lot in life rather enjoyable, and has taken up a ring side seat to viscerally experience Bob's everyday misery. The Fallen One is using me as his own personal reality show, one that provides twenty-four hour comic relief. Anyway, lets stop delving into my delusional, borderline schizophrenic story and move onto something else.

I miss my girlfriend, numero uno (there have been two total, I am pathetic) to be specific. She was the wonderful young lady who was ultimately way too good for Bob. I sabotaged our budding relationship by calling her while intoxicated very late at night. In particular, I shared a detailed account of how I wanted to bed a bar slut, but of course wouldn't because I was dating her. Not my best moment, not by far. We tried to rekindle our romance several months later, yet the spark was no longer there. I blame my then impending incarceration for treeacide that put way too much pressure on her. Who could possibly love a man who went on a drunken rampage that involved ripping small saplings out of the ground, I ask who? However, cruel fate did mark our paths to cross once again. After I started dating girlfriend numero dos, the love of my sad, miserable, pathetic, life started to show interest in me once again. Of course she only did this because I was dating a friend of hers, and my one true soul mate wanted to get back at her. Ultimately after I left girlfriend dos, the perfect human embodiment of bliss (at least for Bob) showed no more interest in me.

Woe is me. I really do miss her, though the past is in the past; so memories, fond as they may be, are fruitless to the heart.


Go to Hell

I've spent the last three hours searching for jobs via monster & the local classified ads. I would like to do something with my life, find a job that gives it meaning but that seems highly unlikely. There is nothing out there that even remotely interests me and worse these jobs offer no financial incentive to sell my soul. I am all about Faustian economics but the Devil needs to hold up his end and offer some serious mullah if he wants my signature in blood. Sooner or later, more likely the latter, I will be homeless & unemployed. And, you know what? That is a far better life than the alternative. My life, be it meaningless and trite, at least offers the promise of future success. Odds are I will die penniless in a gutter wearing soiled tighty-whitees that stink of urine and chocolate ice cream but just maybe my crusade against working for corporate drones will lead to untold riches and unimaginable bliss.


Go to Hell

I hate telemarketers, marketing executives and credit card personnel.

More to come as to why I loathe these pond scum licking bastards later on this week.

Go to hell

Fuck you.

Go to Hell