22* Again, I said nothing.

Well, Scotto's in a better mood tonight. Just barely.

not that I have my life any more together tonight than I did last night. My plants to snag an interview with a random person in the OPSEU office (yes, thanks to the extraordinary lack of help I've gotten from editor-coordinator people, I've resolved to randomness tactics,) fell through and I'm going to try and scrape something together tomorrow... but it looks grim.

But that doesn't mean life sucks. Not today, anyhow. It just didn't live up to its potential. Not much to say about class: it was Classical Mythology and Globalization. Nothing to write home about; nor, indeed, on the internet.

I did, however, just get in from coffee/homework with Robyn. After I finished my frames assignment, I had nothing of note to do, and started to compose "beat" poetry. It was one of my most cathartic creative endeavours in weeks, and this is just coming off a time when I had an excess of time to write, and wasn't particularly upset with anything I had written.

The more I talk to Haasim, the more I think he shares my view of being a journalism student: that is, neither of us as far as I can reckon really plans on pursuing journalism as a career. This is if I'm not misunderstanding him. It's just an option he wants to give himself, like me. Except the longer I examine the option, the less appealing it appears.

He runs a blog, a real blog, like the ones we keep getting told about, called The Canadian Geek, which gives his particular take on any given item of news, media, opinion, etc etc, that happens to fall into his lap. It's not like this blog. It's actually worth reading if you don't know him. Now, I'm linked among his "friends," which makes perfect sense because by this point I consider him that. But it's funny because here I am, my little casual rantings that exist in a vacuum of purpose, linked to by a blog that actually provides a service to its readership.

Not that I'm down on this blog. I need only to remind myself what I'm doing to realize it's not so bad: it serves merely as a public record of my existance. It is not a journal of information or necessarily opinion. It exists merely because I do. As a wannabe-beat and accomplished egomaniac, I have no problem with that whatsoever. It's the world's problem if they care. And good for you for caring, because caring about others is nice.

Many is the day I wish I confined myself to writing about something, and have considered opening a separate blog or (heaven forbid!) converting SWP into some kind of media commentary on television, movies, comics, or whathaveyou. Well the net is positively clogged with those sites to the point where I could simply not bring myself to add to the clutter. Better to just be myself and let the chips fall where they may than to try and be *something* and wind up as nothing. This, along with Interneta is my humble little corner of the world wide web. If I were to (again, heaven forbid,) perish somehow, this would act as the proof I was ever here. My rambling, self-deprecating, overly-wordy, pseudo-philosophical ode to existence itself. Not that I've done anything of particular of note with my existence, but everyone should be able to document his life in whatever way he pleases. And judging by the explosion in popularity of personal blogs in recent years, everyone does.

So I continue to do things the way I do them, the way I'll always do them, the way they've always been done, and gladly. On any given day I might find something else to talk about, and I like it that way. I am proudly me, and this website shows it.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto