trying to find the other sock to a pair of socks in a big laundry basket sounds poetic but it's just a big pain in the ass.
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trying to find the other sock to a pair of socks in a big laundry basket sounds poetic but it's just a big pain in the ass.

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people who laugh when small children get hurt are the worst kind of people
This is not in the standard article format, there are no pictures, only words, maybe skip this one of if you are looking for funny dog pictures.
For those of you that have been reading this article for a while, I want to thank you for your continued support. For those of you that are new, I want to thank you for checking it out, even though you may have no idea what you will gain from this relationship. The long and short of it, is that this relationship is a one-way road, if you get a few cheap laughs along the way, great, if it helps you in your daily life somehow, even better. In reality though, this blog is just for me, however, being human and somewhat narcissistic, I find it best that I put my thoughts out into an open forum rather than writing a journal. Besides, we are approaching the year 2014, who keeps a journal anymore?
I continually daydream of submitting work to cracked and never follow through, is it the fear of rejection, or the fear of trying? I read some comments today in regards to dealing with writer's block, and although I do experience some blockage from time to time, I usually am able to pump these bad boys out with some frequency. However, it got me to thinking, why do I write this article, what is the point of continually posting things onto this blog, why does anyone write anything for that matter if it's not being published, or to reach some goal? The comments mentioned that if you are feeling writer's block, do anything other than not write, write about why you aren't writing, or write about why you want to write, anything to get those creative juices flowing. If you can't overcome writer's block, maybe you aren't a writer.
Or as Ray Bradbury so eloquently put it "Quantity produces quality. If you only write a few things, you’re doomed."
So here I am now, pondering why I write when I am in an especially pessimistic mood on a dreary Monday night and decide that I will write about why I write, so in order to write I will continue to put words down and then it will be a thing. We're getting somewhere now, for those of you losing consciousness, with bits of spittle seeping out of the corner of your mouth, come help me get to the core of this (and by help, I mean that in the way that your mom asked you to "help" in the kitchen on Christmas Eve when you were 6).
1. The intrinsic need to be heard, and understood.
I don't know about you, but there is nothing I hate more than when I am telling someone what I find to be an interesting fact, or trying to engage in a discussion with some weight, and instead of being enthralled I see one of these three things.
The person is so bored their eyes are glazing over, they are definitely not paying any attention, and may be having a brain embolism
The person is clearly just waiting for their opportunity to speak, and are not really acknowledging what is being said.
The person is straight up ignoring/pretending to ignore me.
Nothing makes you feel less important then when you try to tell someone something you find interesting, only to be brushed aside. I find this happens all the time, now, I may be fairly un-interesting but I feel that there is some level of common decency that dictates you at least listen to what someone has to say, until you can decide they are entirely full of shit. This is why I get stuck talking to the guy with transistor radios strapped to his bike, missing his two front teeth. I'm as guilty of this as everyone else, but at least I am aware of it, and I try to make some steps to right it... feign interest, nod vigorously, stomp my foot like a horny cartoon wolf, just anything really.
By writing here, I don't know if you read it, I can't tell if you are hanging on my every word, or barely awake at the keyboard, and I realize that I could absolutely care less. This is the one form of expression where you can't see the disinterest in someones face, where someone can't interject with what they may find to be more interesting. It's a beautiful thing really, I type ASS ASS ASS and you just read it in your head with your internal voice, and there is nothing you can do about it.
2. To keep track of the past, and have a record of my thoughts.
I have a memory span that lasts about as long as you it takes you to get to the end of this sentence. Originally this article was going to be about terrible, recent, Rock songs, and I had a whopping three examples that fit into my narrow category I was striving to showcase. Earlier today, I heard a spectacular fourth, mentally, I told myself I mustn't forget this song, and tried some sort of mnemonic device to remember. Needless to say, no amount of attempting to remember anything is going to help me remember anything, so instead, I type things down, and how I feel about said things. So later I can look back on what I've written and say "Wow, I've always thought jokes relating to ass cheeks are amusing, I never would have known otherwise!" It is frustrating, I can remember where I was, how I felt, how perfect of an addition this song would have been, but not the song itself. You may remember from my past article that I had only one example, and how I had forgotten the other two, well I've got a treat for you, over the course of two weeks through a combination of sorcery and dumb luck with the radio dial, I found the forgotten ones, now I just gotta tease that last warlock out of hiding.
Update: It is now Tuesday, I have heard the song again since last typing this, I repeated the lyrics to myself about 10 times while driving, by the time I got to a computer there was nothing left in the old memory banks.
What I was trying to say before I got so horribly off topic yesterday, is that I have a bed memory and keeping this blog is a great way to look back on my past writings, and be able to piece together what I found interesting at the time, there is such an over-saturation of every form of media on the internet, and blog space is free, I wonder how many words I have to type before they cut me off. ASS ASS ASS
3. It almost feels like an accomplishment
I may not accomplish much of anything, but just having a back archive of writing feels great. I'm able to say, hey, I typed those things, they may be stupid and insignificant, but at least they were important to me at one point, if nothing else I write to my favorite audience, myself. If every now and then someone compliments something I've written it reminds me that it goes beyond myself and I may be able to actually influence someone else, whether that's a good thing or not, is an entirely different topic.
If people can relate that is awesome, I find I don't relate very well to anyone. I can go through these old articles and relate to myself though, and maybe that is good enough.
“You will have to write and put away or burn a lot of material before you are comfortable in this medium. You might as well start now and get the necessary work done. For I believe that eventually quantity will make for quality. How so? Quantity gives experience. From experience alone can quality come. All arts, big and small, are the elimination of waste motion in favor of the concise declaration. The artist learns what to leave out. His greatest art will often be what he does not say, what he leaves out, his ability to state simply with clear emotion, the way he wants to go. The artist must work so hard, so long, that a brain develops and lives, all of itself, in his fingers.”
“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
“I have two rules in life - to hell with it, whatever it is, and get your work done.”
― Ray Bradbury
I'd like to increase my output and write more, so if you see more of these in the future don't be surprised, there will still be funny dog pictures, but in order to write anything worth while, you just have to write, maybe what I write is wrong, maybe it's just the absolute dregs, either way I'm in it for the long hall, join me won't you?