I considered selling this "permanent account" and leaving livejournal behind a while ago, just because, why not? I put a lot of money into this journal and wasn't getting much out of it these days. I don't make icons like I used to, even though I enjoyed making silly little icons because I don't have much space to work with - less of an area to mess up, basically. It was a creative outlet. But I use the video games I keep buying to make levels, because that's where technology has gotten to these days. Why would someone look into the details, into a lengthy entry like this, if it can be done more succinctly? With things like Facebook and Twitter appearing, people lose the capacity - or attention span - to write more than 140 characters. I daresay some of us have lives so busy, 140 characters is just about all we'd want to read about a person from the other side of the country you followed via a mutual interest as well.
Honest truth, maybe I wasn't letting myself get the chance to type and get thoughts out. I've been told consistently that I censor myself online - I don't know what would be written if I didn't use the delete or backspace keys. If I want to talk about things that I might feel uncomfortable putting online, well, I'll talk to someone personally because most of those uncomfortable subjects need further dialogue, questions and responses that come across as misinterpreted at worst, and stinted and incomplete at best online. What's wrong with talking to Steph and writing stuff on here too? Well, redundancy is something I am not fond of, partially because of my very own obsessive-compulsive streaks forcing me to check and double-check certain things I do on a regular basis, and partially because I feel a conversation or a moment might hold less personal value when it's available for public perusal and evaluation. On the other hand, I have a tragically selective memory, and if I write about anything worthwhile that stands out amongst the monotony, maybe I'll feel better about myself and what I am doing with my life in regards to the work I do and the company I keep. I don't want life to just blend together like some kind of turgid, festering oatmeal.
So, the actual big news, that might be worth putting in a post.
Steph wants to travel overseas somewhere for a lengthy period of time, maybe flat out move. We'll just save up the money, give up the jobs and spend some time having fun. I sold my video game systems and my games when I left Europe. I like the idea of travel, realistically, because I think I might be unable to get this promotion with my current district manager, and why not enjoy myself and use the time to work out what else I can do. However, I don't want to go through with the moving overseas again, especially not back to Enfield. Maybe it's the knowledge that I think England, as a country, needs a generation to live through the sudden migration of Europeans to smooth out what I feel is acute xenophobia - small circles causing large ripples - and maybe it's because I prefer being in a country where people like my accent.
What do I want? I would like to visit a new state this year, try to write more on here, try to write more in general - but not to force myself to any schedule because I will become lazy and write incredibly dull things into here if I, say, forced myself to write for at least twenty minutes into here every day. That one always stays in my mind as a potential resolution, but I always see the concept (something for self-improvement, yet written for the interest of other people, who can choose to scroll through and ignore the whole sordid affair, which results in zero responses, or worse, pity responses from people close to me which are nothing more but elaborate "Keep It Up!" messages, despite whatever I may have written being as charming as a hairball) as lacking. I could make more icons, or I could be creative in more interesting and unique ways. Stephanie made a bucket list book using standard paper, intricate weaving to hold the pages together, and a cigarette carton for the cover. While I do not envy the concept of putting pressure on yourself to do things you'd enjoy - it makes something that might be ordinarily whimsically fun into an achievement, my analytical mind will see it as a ticked box, a statistic, a fraction towards a goal - I did envy her pretty book made using a cigarette carton as a cover. I mean, I'd want to have five grand extra in my bank account through hard work, but what does that do in terms of making more time for people? Looking after myself? Do I put myself at risk long-term by trying to walk off any injury or illness I get short-term? This year I will invite more people over for group gatherings, and worry about the money situations when I don't have enough to get what I need from life, and hope that will be enough to continue my adventures with Steph, who really means the world to me.
She asked me to read a book recently. I blitzed through it. I can't even remember what book it was now, but if she told me the title of it I'd remember some of it, maybe. I should read more. Whether that means I will do or not is down to how much it hurts my ego to know I'm pretty much a simpleton when it comes to books, the training wheels never came off the bicycle, I've only gravitated towards British comedians doing silly things to show the charm of strangers and the beauty of travel, when life is temporarily about a pointless objective - dragging a fridge around Ireland, perhaps - but begins to discuss the people they meet as the more enlightening aspect of the endeavour.
I've never watched The Godfather or Citizen Kane, nor have I listened to what are probably considered classic American albums. I can't claim myself to be an aficionado of anything aside from particular genres of video games and possibly, questionably, fonts. Would it be good to broaden my horizons and be able to discuss books, or classic movies, or fonts? Honestly, at this point in time, probably not. Not so specifically like that, no.
Steph told me the title of the book. Yeah, I do remember some of it, though it's a book that's just someone rambling on, a journal on football that he was able to sell and people have read and respected for its honesty in its harshness sometimes. That'd be a trait I'd like to have, but you probably can't have a profession involving friendly customer service while being frankly honest. There's a definite game face (pun not intended) a person in retail has to put on, to handle the most stressful of complications and yet also handle the lowest common denominators - the abject stupidity on display from gormless patrons. Then there's the co-workers, and the worries that I may taint these people. Do I feel I ever show any of my co-workers the real me? Maybe, but only once the store is closed and I'm rambling away while counting the registers. Do I feel that might be a bad thing if I invite them over constantly? Probably not. Maybe.
So. What started as a post where I would write something about it being a kind of resolution to write on here every day became a talk about how I wouldn't dream of flooding your friends' pages with floral blatherings, especially because if I do intend to find any kind of spark that keeps me writing, I won't find it by forcing myself into writing for twenty minutes a day, glowering face glowing against monitor, clicking for inspiration from thesaurus.com for more complex words, to improve my vocabulary. I might be able to go for a while without the constant editing, though I'd find myself selectively editing what I'd write about work - I'm technically not even meant to review games, per se, because my opinion is not the opinion of the corporation I work for, but because of the essence of a corporate identity, my writing could be misconstrued by people who arguably wouldn't know what misconstrued meant. Maybe I should stick a couple of fingers up at that and write about something I like, because that would unquestionably be a good subject to go on about, although the amount of people already online doing such things makes that, somewhat ironically, one of the most redundant things I could do with an online journal.
So surmise what was meant to be my last paragraph, I still don't know, in general, what to do with this journal - or with myself. Maybe my problem isn't thinking about money too much, but thinking too much in general. I should find some things I enjoy doing, simple pleasures, and document them for myself - perhaps by audio or by video to prevent editing - and if you guys like it as well, that's good too.