A day for solemn modesty.

I face today with the fearful and exciting prospect of nothing to do. I narrowed down my options to a select few choices.

1) Combine enough variations of hard alcohol and my own biological physiology that I whizz and drop duke on myself, then lose consciousness, wallowing in my filth in the parking lot of any expensive restaurant I could find.
2) Blow up every single person on my myspace friend list and then text message them too, just in case.
3) Look for a job, do laundry, search out nuggets.
4) Pitch one of my movie ideas to one of the abundant porno crews out here, add softcore pornographic elements to my idea and break into the industry that way.

Option 1 was obviously the most enticing and all my instincts and lust made me yearn for this option. But, there was a certain pathetic easiness to this choice. Option 2 also smacked of pathetic loneliness and childishness. 3 was absolutely ridiculous, seeing as how I don't have anything to do tomorrow either, and I'm certainly not going to achieve anything when the fire is just barely under my ass. For the record, I do not intend to attend my current employer's scheduled shifts any more. I want to get that thrill of the immediate resignation without notice. It is a fine maneuver and one I suggest every teenager give a whirl, if not every adult as well. Option 4 is a pretty serious endeavor, and I like the hell out of it. I'm going to put that on the back-burner, think of a way to stack enough capital to make it a realistic opportunity, and save it for when I'm really feelin' the hustle.

Then, like lightning, I was stricken with a realization that led to more realizations. I should focus on rocking. This made me realize that I was not focusing on rocking. I realized that I should always be focused on rocking, and I really realized I wasn't living up to my own expectations.