"Enjoy your 40mg of Penicillin, and heaping faceful of Irony."

The last post I made, what was it about again?
Aiming to be more reliable and strong, to benefit those important to me.
It's times like these that you start doubting your lack of faith.

Let me explain.
So, today is Valentine's Day, and that means for many men across the country that it's another day off their list where they have to act like less chauvinistic, along with the Birthday, the Anniversary and who knows what else.
This would (Notice that "would"?) be my first real one, honestly, and a 2 month anniversary on top of that. A day was planned ("was", can you see where this post is going?), hell it was written on my Nude Firemen calender.
On a currently unrelated note, I haven't been ill in 7 years, and that was bought about by raw fish. In Spain.

I had to call off everything due to tonsillitis.
This, I hear, is the Inevitable Fuck Up of the Boyfriend.
Of all the times to be ill in seven years, it just had to be this week.

On the other hand, it's given me a little (read: helluva) time to ponder. I'm getting a lot of ideas for ramblings, and rants, and tirades, as well as some other surprising little pieces. Maybe.

That's all I've got for now, the therapeutic, medically advised Ice Cream has actually halted most if not all intellectual thinking. Sayonara!

I'm going to make a post.

The problem is, I don't know where to start or what to write. This is going to be from the top. Impromptu. Ad lib.

Well, ****.

First point is that this is no longer a blog. Due to its (lack of an) update schedule, it has been demoted to a Blug. This, I must live with until standards are raised.

Mr Bennet talks a lot about flow. Flow, he says, is the point where a writer can simply let ideas flow coherently to paper without active thought, or stoppages. This is the point I am able to reach with most blug posts, and I'm determined to do it now.

I find it fascinating. Fascinating that once reaching this trance, I can feel myself manipulating foreign media into such beauty. I think this is what artists feel when they start flinging paint at canvases, and start breathing very heavily. What musicians feel when they make an impromtu solo. What I feel, when solving algebra.

Okay, so that wasn't as much of a universally beautiful sentinent than its predeccessors, but it's true nonetheless. (It's working now)

It's strange, when I do aquire such a state, it feels like I have reached Self-actualisation.
The point in which you can or have achieved the ultimate.
The point at which masterpieces are made.
Maximised potential.

I strive to be the best I can.
Not in an obvious way, such as eating right, or working out.
But I want to witness everything, do the right thing, and eventually use this to become the kind of person that is, well, the best.

Who knows what to do.
Who can help anyone.
Who can make passive, unwitting yet fantastic contribution to the world.

I can't understand why people wouldn't.
So what if you can't fall lower than rock bottom?
So what if you can't fail, due to no criteria for success?
So what if it's easier?

If you can actually make something better, why the hell not?
Especially if it's someone else's life.

I'm not setting out to solve world hunger. I'm not going to go donate all possessions to good causes. I'm not going to pray everything away.

But I will be the kind who can help those who are important.
I will be the kind who can make people happy.
I will be dependable.

For everyone else.

When I can.

It says a lot about a Blog...

When every 2nd post is apologies and explanations for a lack of updates.
They'll happen, I'm determined.

Just not now, now I must sleep.