I'm trying to please one person I know. That's me. And this is not because I disdain to please others. This is because I know I could never please them. I can't please myself, and in so doing I may mistake the work towards my own end as the attempt to please another. This is never true. For example if I were to try and become a writer, that would seem to be a venture to please my own artistic or creative impulse. However the transaction of reading appears on a surface level to be one of giving from the writer to the reader. And if in the even the reader does not enjoy the writing the writer feels rejected he must remember; fuck you and youre mom and your whole family. Ok, so now I dont feel so bad, well not for that specific reason anymore. It is more of a general feeling of badness. Today is the one year anniversary of my dog dying. I called my mom and talked to her about how uch I hate my job. her advice was unhelpful. This is something you might expect, you should expect. We are two people who aren't good at doing things we dont like and aren't good at hearing other people talk about things they did that they didn't want to do. We are all like that. When things are good they're good, when they're bad they're bad. I want to move.
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