Whingefest 2009: Another installment in the "you know, that Recon sure complains alot" series.

Life is good, Mr. Internet. But man. Lately I've been running. Not literally, obviously. I run around the heated indoor track inside my head. Lot's of writing. Too much. Makes me feel like a Robot with low batteries.. So I decided to come here and write about my writing-induced Neuroses in order to escape my other writing. By writing about it.

My brain has been running Like Jesus would run if he came back to Earth tomorrow then out of nowhere Coach puts him in to play with 5 seconds on the clock in the last game of the season.

Running down a dream is more like it. These scripts I may never sell are kicking my mind's ass. Pray for me, invisible internet family. The Albatross of re-writing hanging around my neck is starting to sag, giving me a wicked case of psychic Front Butt* I can't seem to shake off.

(fig.a: "Front Butt", aka "B.I.F." (butt in front).

Argh! It makes me want to run to the hills. Should I do it? It sounds tempting, except for the hills part. I wish I could just leather up, dust off the Hog and hit the highway. How I wish. I'd soar, boy. Like a God damned Condor.

I'm going to do it. Go away for a while, take a load off. If they ask why I ran, I'll tell them the truth. I just ran. I ran so far away.

I had to get away. Because the truth is, the voice inside me that just wants to smoke reefer and play Street Fighter all day is slowly but surely losing out to the bigger, brassier Morgan Freeman-like voice of impending reality. Yikes.

What I need to do is harness your power, Internet.

We'd make a great team, Internet. Side by side we'd shine, like glimmering robot brothers.

I want to get back in touch with the mysteries of Nature.



I used to kick it with the homies on the Regular.



But lately, I feel like I'm doing my own thing.

I just feel like something inside of me is going to burst out of my chest if I don't find a balance with everything.

So I keep writing. If only to avoid disaster.

I hardly ever have time to practice my flute, let alone my dance fighting.

I just need to remember to move like a cat, and think like a wizard.



I think I also might need exercise.



Some sun would be good.

I could use an evening of dancing. Preferably to the sounds of urban street hop in order to increase the chance of triggering an exciting break dance duel.

I needn't worry. With Joy on my left, and Hope on my right, I'm sure to be properly equipped for the tumultuous road ahead.

USA!

(pics via fffound, yayhooray, tumblr)

PS: Surprisingly enough, this Insomnia-induced rant actually made me feel better. Who would have guessed that stepping on the iSoapbox to rant would create such a positive side-effect when placed alongside pictures of Robots, Wizard Cats, and Bigfoot. What a treat.

Thanks for listening. Never forget, you are the Ice Cream Cones to my Dr. Huxtable.

Cheers.