Out with the old and in with the new. Let me explain.
I was asked by my girlfriend if I was still "damned in blue," as the title of my blog indicated. For years, my entries on Damned consisted of mainly self-deprecating blow-by-blow accounts of what's up, or in this case, down with me, if not for the inconvenient ramblings I post once in a while. I never shied away from the fact that I have led a blog life that thrived on my insecurities and emotional indulgence written in an overly dramatic manner, to which I have a perversely immense pleasure to author.
But for all my moronic attempts at second-rate nonfiction, the blog title clearly suggest one thing: that I'm a fucking sad sap. Which is not true. I'm fun at places, tap to my destructive nature most of the way in an inward manner, and dumb enough to shoot vodka through my nose using a straw and smoke cigarettes dabbed with toothpaste to get that "menthol" feeling.
Enter The Magical Tumbong, the place where everybody wants to be in. Let's just say it's my forced medication from writing less Prozac-induced thoughts (not that I take Prozac, mind you) to more focused and positive babble that borders on self-help. By self-help, I mean helping myself. Oh god, here we go.
Seriously, it's time to drop off that Damned title. It's so, like, three years ago, where everything was sad and depressing, at least from my shallow vantage point. A lot of things have changed for the better over the years. No more morose madness.
By the way, I can't attach pictures at the moment. I know, it sucks. Stock photos rock my world.
I was asked by my girlfriend if I was still "damned in blue," as the title of my blog indicated. For years, my entries on Damned consisted of mainly self-deprecating blow-by-blow accounts of what's up, or in this case, down with me, if not for the inconvenient ramblings I post once in a while. I never shied away from the fact that I have led a blog life that thrived on my insecurities and emotional indulgence written in an overly dramatic manner, to which I have a perversely immense pleasure to author.
But for all my moronic attempts at second-rate nonfiction, the blog title clearly suggest one thing: that I'm a fucking sad sap. Which is not true. I'm fun at places, tap to my destructive nature most of the way in an inward manner, and dumb enough to shoot vodka through my nose using a straw and smoke cigarettes dabbed with toothpaste to get that "menthol" feeling.
Enter The Magical Tumbong, the place where everybody wants to be in. Let's just say it's my forced medication from writing less Prozac-induced thoughts (not that I take Prozac, mind you) to more focused and positive babble that borders on self-help. By self-help, I mean helping myself. Oh god, here we go.
Seriously, it's time to drop off that Damned title. It's so, like, three years ago, where everything was sad and depressing, at least from my shallow vantage point. A lot of things have changed for the better over the years. No more morose madness.
By the way, I can't attach pictures at the moment. I know, it sucks. Stock photos rock my world.
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