I'M A RESTLESS LITTLE BASTARD~

My finger are stuck onto my keyboard as I pause to contemplate my topic for the day. I think I wanna be self-indulgent today. Hmm... what's new? I talk bout myself almost every other day anyway. Bah~ In all honesty, the fact that I've only got roughly a little more than 190 days remaining to go has kinda unsettled me.

For the past 22 months, I've been doing my time as a resident do it-all-whore in the production room. My ankles are bound to the chair all this time and I'm unable to escape from my hapless predicament. I'm tired of working for people. I want to work for myself. But I'm only capable of working in occasional sporadic bursts.

What should I do? Maybe I should go to Pakistan and work in one of those sweatshops where little children stitch the footballs that I'm kicking together? Perhaps, only then I'll realise how lucky I am to be where I am and that I shouldn't always be complaining about my predicament as there are lots of people out there that are worse off.

Somehow, my little dream of setting up shop has been slowly fading away. The market is saturated. The standard is not there. The finances are a major problem. There are just too many hurdles to cross. Think running the steeplechase over and over again with an incessant headwind blowing against you.

Unable to work out nice pretty graphics... I've been taking it out on my guitar recently. With my limited knowledge of chord progression, I'm only able to play some weird tunes that I've fixed up after some messing around. It sounds nice, alright... maybe not that nice. In fact it sounds rather sad. But who cares, I'm just having fun.

Watching performances really inspire people to want to write good music. Was watching the way Leslie was playing last night. He's a one man machine. He plays the guitar as if the both of them are of one body. Slightly depressive melodies... It's a pity some of the lyrics ain't that wonderful. But who am I to judge? I write pretty crap parodies of pop songs too. Just for a good laugh...

The room's a warzone at this very moment. Clothes strewn across the floor. My magazines and stuff are just lying all over the place. My Mom has given up on getting me to clean up my sty. I'll try to do something about it today. I'll try. That's what I say all the time.