zippered

The increasing reluctance to post comes from the feeling that everything I say will eventually come out wrong, or worse, contrived, forced out just for the sole purpose of "meeting quota". Blogs shall not be corrupted by corporate ideology. I've had too many Freudian slips recently, the latest most memorable one being the "Will you be my wife" addressed to the Prince in the latest act3 performance, which was, to put it mildly, shocking. I figure if I go around wearing a shirt that says "Too much talking is hazardous to health", it'll remind me to shut up.

But the fear of more Freudian slips is not what's causing the dearth of entries. It's more the lack of thought processes, the shutting out of feeling from the things I do. If you don't get happy, neither will you get sad. The warped logic of emotional equilibrium I'm trying to achieve isn't turning out very well though.

New year, same people, same problems, same lack of time, same workaholism. People don't change very much, I figured, though that is no excuse not to have new year resolutions. But I don't have any. The New Year sort of flashed by like a near-death experience. I figure I'll make them up along the way, pretend I made the resolutions at the beginning of the year, and in self-delusion get some sorry sense of achievement.