fickle mickle me

so yesteray i got up and got craploads done, and feel craploads better.

conclusion therein - my self esteem is tied closely to my sense of meaning, because it is only when i feel usefull that i feel meaningfull.

probably the primary reason i cant make it in the city - nothing you do ever has much point. at least here, when i'm struggling to survive, at least there's that. the accomplishment of surviving, as opposed to the accomplishment of not being forced a down a rung on the economic ladder.

also, according tohr 1955, i'm a fuckin terrorist.

i knew they'd figure that out before long.