my journal/blog

I'm thinking about the purpose or the point of my videos. At first, there was (to me) no real point. I had an idea, I did it, I moved on. Once I began to think more about it, I decided the purpose was to tell my story. I explained things out because I didn't want to be misinterpreted. More recently, I've stopped explaining things so much, because I've decided I want it to be up to interpretation. Everyone should get something different out of each piece of work. Death of the author, and such. I love to hear different interpretations. Now, I feel that with each piece of work I am telling a story. Not a traditional story, of course, but a glimpse into a world people might not have otherwise seen before. A slice of life, if you will.

Though now that I describe it in such a way, that is very jarring. It is daunting enough to think about the billions of complete individual lives that exist, now i have to consider the infinite fictional possibilities as well? And worse, I have to discover as many as possible and express their story accurately. Scary, scary.

Also I've met some nice french folks online, and they are teaching me french internet slang and funny expressions, like MDR (LOL), TG (STFU), and A+ (TTYL).

I'm not online as much anymore, so I'm neglecting to write in entries. Speaking of which, im thinking of moving these over to some kind of blogging site more suited for this kind of thing. If I've already done so, well you know how that turned out because I'll likely have posted all the entries on my website to the new blog spot. And I'll likely post the original dates if the blogging site doesn't have an option to put them in manually.

I recently messaged a writer I'm a fan of and she even responded. It's always cool to get a reply from someone big. Or rather, it's cool to get a reply from someone you admire. I've contacted some small people that I still was excited about.

Shrekfest is coming up soon, so that's something to look forward to. As I may have mentioned before, I submitted an entry that got accepted - albeit probably edited to remove copyright material. They (3GI) warned us about minor edits and one part of my entry is ripped directly from the movie Shrek. What else is there to say? I came up with an idea for a video but I've yet to overcome my laziness. I listened to the Genesis album "Trick of the Tail" all the way through. In a show of optimism and positivity, I've created an exercise for myself in which I list all the reasons why today is a big day. Every day, after all, is a big day if you try hard enough to come up with a reason. That's my mindset going forward.

I am a very ugly person. Some days I consider my face, and sometimes my body, to be aesthetically pleasing, but on the whole it is a simple fact that I am ugly. I do not lament this fact, because as I said there is an aesthetic charm to my ugliness. I don't care about conventional beauty. My idea of beauty, or what I find enjoyable to look at, is indifferent towards conventions. And I'm not trying to look sexy for others. I have no interest in that sort of thing these days. So when it comes to how I present myself, I care only for my own aesthetic tastes. I once believed I had been given the wrong body, because I had the demeanor of a skinny sort of person (it was hard to put into words but I felt sure this was true), but I've grown into the large, menacing stature I have.

Also, it was quite exciting to see a clip of my Shrekfest submission make it into the promo vid.

So Ideational Probe is done (now called World of Next). I'm rather proud of myself for coming up with the "poem" angle in explaining the presentation -- that's essentially what it is after all. A poem, with the timing for reading each line set by me. Unfortunately, I showed some people, and it was not readily apparent that the captions were necessary to understand what's going on. Although it goes against how I like to present my work, I stated that captions are necessary in the description to make it more clear.

What else do I have to say? I've rediscovered the animated hijinx of Mike Scott. I used to love his "Beat-Boxing Dave" series, but now I've also found out about Bru & Boegie, two more charming characters of his. Also, I started listening to more music again, especially Jonathon Coulton today. And one other thing would be that I found out that a groinal response can be accompanied by feelings of arousal, which is a soul crushing realization. Lastly, I deleted a ton of files. No more digital hoarding. Oh, and I'm thinking of reading again. I've got three or four books I hope to find. Can't remember the last time I read a whole book. I think it was American Psycho, a bit before I saw the movie.

By the way, when I started this website, I had the idea for a dream journal section but decided against it in the end. Now, I'm thinking about it again.

Ideational Probe - the most thought I've ever put into a project. Even Rotten was pretty straightforward as I thought of a scene, wrote it down, and that was that before making it. This would be the third or fourth big change I've made to the general idea. Now it's gonna be much more personal, which is good because that was sort of the original idea in the first place. But now also it might rhyme. I don't think I've done that before. It would be neat. I will need a new title again. I have been looking at, how do I put this, peculiar people recently. I will only mention one by name because she is already so infamous -- Blowfly Girl. I read her blog thrice over. It is so very interesting. I am so so so fascinated by the thoughts of these people. Who are they really, why do they do what they do, what makes that head of theirs tick... it's the allure of the mystery of the individual. Aaaaaanyway I was just reading the many many words of a certain person and her strong spiritual/religious(?) views, and I was suddenly inspired to continue working on my thing. Heeheehee I used to not be interested in anything of the sort but recent events and having this project on my mind has really rekindled my spirituality.

Oh also I've been having ideas of stories but unfortunately I can not possibly think of a medium with which to tell them, except dreams. For instance, imagine a scene where someone tries to say something but their mouth completely dries up leaving them unable to say it, but the thing they are going to say is necessary to the story but I can't show through visuals what that is and I can't have any sound to communicate it because it is also important that they don't communicate it in any capacity and I don't want to write the story to get around it because (1) I do not like "typical" writing* and (2) the point of them not saying it is that it can't be stated. Have you ever had a moment in a dream in which you just knew something, because it's your own brain creating the story so you know everything. It's like that, where you just have to know to experience my story. Unfortunately that is impossible as far as I know. Also I've been thinking about my own variety show. I could do jokes and song covers and musings.

*I mean to say I've written stories before but I don't like to tell stories like that for the most part, although I do like pictures with accompanying text sometimes

Gee whiz. Not much has been happening as of late. Or maybe I've been SO busy I haven't found the time to write an entry. Not that I feel any obligation to do more than the bare minimum to not let this site die completely. Well, I haven't had enough to say to feel the need to write, so I've decided to put down all the little thoughts I've had at once. Befitting such a post, I'll start with something I wrote down on the 21st of last month:

I considered, again, the conundrum of what to do about all the little thoughts I want to express but don't think are big enough to share. And I realized how I've become nothing more than content to share. If I have thoughts, I can just write them down in a journal. Just because I can't turn it into something interesting to share doesn't mean it doesn't matter. I think the Internet has been an overall negative thing in my life. It's ruined my life in ways I can't even begin to explain. But... honestly... in some ways I suppose it has been good. However, I do not use the term hate lightly and I hate the internet these days. The things on it, the way its become, the people who use it, everything. I might be a better person if I stopped using any form of social media right now.

Heavy stuff. Hahaha... anyway, what else?

I'd like a light pink or white clown outfit. I love clowns. I love clown makeup too. I don't care about the balloons or the jokes or the magic tricks. Only the look.

I listened to a Daughters album just like with Tiny Tim and it did not fill me with vibrant emotions like the comments suggested it would, or like Tiny Tim did. I may try again with David Bowie's "Blackstar" album.

Enough old thoughts. Now for the new thoughts. What have I been working on?

A little over a month ago (?) I wrote down ideas I could use, such as video ideas that I later decided to draw as long comics and then reconsidered and was planning out videos for. Two ideas, which I titled "Ideational Probe" and "To Look At The Self" were the biggest ones. I've shelved the latter and might never use it, but I'm working on the former right now. Many many notes to use. The idea was changed and changed again and now it's morphed into a completely new idea, which will need a new title. I hope to have it done by September. It is very rare that I plan out a video or idea before jumping right in, because I believe the idea is more 'pure' with no forethought. But this one time I think I'll make something with more thought put in. I also finished my submission for Shrekfest a bit ago. Which just so happens to be why I want my "Ideational Probe" to be done before I upload it. I will admit I fear taking myself too seriously. Also it's fucking hilarious to upload a long, vague, spooky video right before a goofy Shrek video. 🙃

Update 8/7/20: I've just finished the music for my "Ideational Probe" video. I need to find the motivation to start drawing soon.

On the topic of mental illness, I was thinking of physical portrayals. You may be familiar — the cliche shadow monster representing depression, or the "alien" thing that seems to be popular in the ADHD community, and so on. I myself, as seen here, see it as myself contorting into some sort of creature for a short while. Pictures meant to be a representation of me "in the pit" have myself physically distorted into something not quite human, or represented by two people, me and myself, having a conversation in my head.

Even through the use of language, to refer to it as being "in the pit" conjures up an image of me suddenly falling through the floor, deep down below, trying to climb back up to normalcy. But nearly all of these represent the nondescript malaise I am plagued by. Or some anxiety-fueled idea, such as March 30 2019, which represents my fear of being recognized by onlookers as having a sick mind, even subconsciously just from seeing me and my behaviors or speech patterns.

My initial motivation for writing this entry was the quite obvious representation of intrusive thoughts as little imps whispering evil ideas into my head. As amusing as the idea is, I don't see it in relation to myself, as evident by the fact that I have never made such a representation in drawing or writing. August 10 2019 might seem so but that little creature on the typewriter is more representative of the thoughts themselves, or my brain's thought process. All those words on all those papers are words I have written in a pit-induced turmoil. From here on out, I think I will continue to refer to it as the pit, because I otherwise lack the language to explain it without resorting to self diagnosis. But back to the idea of representations.

I can't use the imps because I don't believe in my heart that is what the intrusive thoughts 'are.' Take my Muse for example, which appeared naturally to me. I did not come up with the idea and choose to believe it. I, one day, knew it to be true and did not forget it ever since. Likewise, the imagery of falling into a pit is what I know to be my representation. But the funny little imps do not exist in my world. So, I wonder, what are the intrusive thoughts, and how do they present themselves? In due time, I might find out, or they are nothing more than ideas in my own head, because the real representation is my brain itself, which I referred to as "poisoned." There might be my answer. They are not sick thoughts coming out of a mind; it is a sick mind that produced these thoughts originally. That is the representation of the illness plaguing my head.

This discussion I am having with myself about representations reminds me of a conversation I had with a chum of mine, though it was still mostly talking to myself. The discussion was about thought. That is, people and their one-sided discussion of philosophy. A manifesto is an example. It is someone who has many ideas writing down what they think about things. I've made the distinction between internal and external conflict before, and I think it applies to philosophy as well. There are two discussions, internal and external conflict. Discussion of external conflict might also be known as a political ideology. It deals with how the world is and how the world ought to be. I don't believe I can change the world in any meaningful way, and I hardly give a damn about it, so I'm much more interested in the internal philosophies. That is, how people are, and how they ought to govern themselves. The beautiful thing about it is how different experiences might shape different people's philosophies on their own internal conflicts. Two different people might have completely opposites needs or ideas. There just might be the person believing there are imps whispering ideas in their head, because that is how they visualized the problem when it presented itself. And there might be the one who thinks everyone should care for themselves above all else, a sharp contrast from the one who values all others above them self.

What have I been doing recently? Good grief.

This has not been a good time to be me. From July 3 to July 15, I was not right in the head. It would seem I even captured this nuttiness in writing already, yet I don't remember it. My July 3 entry, which I don't remember writing, is especially embarrassing. The obsession I mentioned in it has now passed, thankfully. I will talk about that first. It was definitely not "stalker-y" to be clear. I will leave the entry as is for the sake of whatever purpose this blog serves, but now that my mind is clear, I think my description of it was warped by my perception. Another section, though, I was going to mention here anyway.

My two fears. Death and succumbing to mental illness. Then, during that period, the latter felt more probable than ever before. The obsession thing was only one symptom of the overall... maybe I'd call it a short mental breakdown... I really have not been feeling myself. I said on July 3 that at least I am able to compose myself, but that quickly become untrue as the days went on.

I really don't want to hurt anyone. And I'm starting to cry right now writing that out. I'm terrified. Okay. I am going to wait a few minutes and then resume writing.

Okay. Maybe it didn't end July 15. Maybe it's still going on. I didn't expect to write out those words. Let me finish what I was saying. So mainly besides the usual depression and whatnot accompanying a very negative couple days, I was quicker to anger whereas usually I'm very much in control of my emotions. Other such things. Badness all around. Not getting good sleep. But I've made it clear now that things were, or are, bad. Enough negativity for now. I've done more than suffer.

A few days ago, I sat motionless in the dark listening to hypno audios, both recreational and erotic, for about six hours. Quite a ride. But in doing so, I realized I really like lying motionless in the dark for extended periods of time. Yesterday, I listened to the entirety of Tiny Tim's album "God Bless Tiny Tim" doing that and it was beautiful. I plan on listening to other Tiny Tim albums the same way, as well as Steve Roach's "Structured From Silence" and a few Ephemeral Rift videos. It is a good way to unwind and relax. Also I thought of joining some online forums, but didn't end up doing so. I can't think of anything else interesting I have done, so back to the suffering.

Firstly: "I really don't want to hurt anyone"

That was just a random thought that popped into my head while I was writing. Not related to what I was saying. Intrusive thoughts. Stuff of nightmares. My brain is poisoned.

I don't think it's ever been so bad for so long. Thirteen or so days now? Every time I've said it fluctuates, and after every bad time I go back to a good time where I don't think about it, but I'm still waiting for that good time. What if it never happens. What if I'm finally hitting a permanent all-time low. I've seen videos - people suffering from whatever mental illness they have, talking about how they've been suffering for years. Full years. And I think to myself well at least it's not that bad. It comes and goes. And as long as it goes, I can manage before it comes again. But I don't know anymore. I'm writing this all out for the world to see, but I don't want to be an example of a downward spiral in real time. Fuck. When I started writing this entry, this is not at all where I expected to be taking it. I wanted to talk about how bad I'd been doing — past tense — and this is just... actually... let me clarify. So from July 3 to whenever, I'd not been myself, blah blah blah, and the important thing is I did a lot of things I feel I wouldn't really do normally. That's the "slipping further into madness" and "losing touch with reality" that I was scared of. I wasn't suffering, except a twinge of despair coming from my self awareness at the time, where I knew things were off but let them happen anyway. Now, right now, is only suffering. So that's that. I have nothing else to say right now.

Update: Okay, I am terrified. It has been a while since I have had such a worrying intrusive thought but it really irks me right now. The only thing to do now is cry and hope it passes.

I measure humanity by external conflict, and because I only have internal conflict, I do not see myself as quite human. Someone who only feels internal conflict is not with the world. They are with themselves and themselves alone. I am cut off from the world, and I am cut off from humanity, because humans are dealt suffering from outside forces and I have no outside force with which to suffer. So I am not human. What might it say about me, though, that I believe humanity is synonymous with suffering. Perhaps that is why I repressed all my natural human desires (to be happy, sad, angry, scared, aroused, depressed, yearning) for so long. Because I did not want to suffer like others do. And now here I am, having dodged the externalaties, and substituting instead the crushing internalities so that I may suffer just the same.

I might also add two other thoughts now, first the one I just had, which prompted another addition, and then an earlier one I wasn't going to add but might as well. First, there is something (might be other things as well but this one specific thing is on my mind now) that is on my mind but I can not say, not here, not anywhere, and I can't say the reason I can't say it because it itself is related to the thing I can't say, so I can't say anything at all. It's all very stupid. It is an interpersonal problem to do with how I must micromanage relationships to be as I see fit. Not to say I am manipulative with those around me (not to say I've never been manipulative before, which I absolutely without a doubt have been, just not, yknow, to an especially malicious degree that one might think of when someone is called manipulative) but that I try to have things in my life a certain way to the best of my ability, and I overthink these things while actually being quite lazy about it. Does this make sense? I mean to say there is a sort of relation I would want to have with someone but can't, so instead I opt for an equally useful (here I use the term useful in a utilitarian way) relationship. And the reason I couldn't say something before is that it would surely make the initial relation impossible, but that is not an issue now. However, it would be troublesome to keep the second sort of relation having said that thing, which might place me in entirely different awkward position, such as where before it would have been an equal alliance sort of thing, it puts us on unequal footing because of the onesidedness of the entire thing. I do not expect this to make much sense but writing this out is more for my own benefit than anyone else's.

Now for the second thought: I have a special way of using language, and before I've even finished this sentence I realize it doesn't matter at all and I don't want to write out my whole explanation for that initial sentiment at the start of this statement. The end.

This is a neat little thing I've set up, this blog. But there is another need I have that it does not quite fill. This is good for big thoughts, but what about little thoughts? It's not worth writing about here if it's only a few sentences. Twitter is good for small thoughts but my feelings for most aspects of social media might be accurately summed up in a hyperbolic sentiment in the form of an "AM's hate rant from I Have No Mouth And My Must Scream" -esque hate rant. And I do not care much for tumblr. This is the only space that is mine, and mine alone. Where might I put such small thoughts as "Brought me to tears with these words" and "various idiosyncracies." I might be better off keeping them to myself with how recurring they are.

Update: I tried to relay a thought to tumblr but it did not feel right, so i will put it here instead:

how can i expect to be honest with others when i continue to lie to myself.

the inverse might also be true, if i lie so much to others, how would i be true to myself at all

But this makes me realize just why I don't like Twitter or Tumblr or any other site. Because it is not my space. Nothing would make my heart and stomach churn like seeing a notification in relation to baring my soul. Dread seeps in every time. Every time. So to be honest, this space I have built is swell for opening up and showing my whole self off. However, I have been opening up for years, and I have next to no intention of putting it all up here. It has been a long journey, but you, the reader, will likely never get the whole thing. You will not get every piece of the puzzle. I have more to say but don't quite know how to express it, so I will depart from this train of thought now.

Now this really peeves me off. In the time I took to write that last sentence, I forgot the next thought I wanted to put out. If I think of it again, I will put it here.

What have I done this past week? I've been brainstorming. I have one medium-sized upcoming thing I'm excited about. I just hope it'll turn out as well as I hope. I have a few other ideas written out that I didn't think would be used, but yesterday I realized I could make them in comic form rather than video form. Since I focus mainly on my YouTube channel, I don't have much of an incentive to make non-video content, but it would fit better with the ideas. On a saucier note, I recently discovered how fun self bondage can be. Some of it is a bit complicated, but I'm sure I'll get the hang of it.

I stated yesterday, to nobody in particular, that the two things I fear most are becoming irreversibly insane or dying.

Dying is obvious. I live to create, and as long as I am creating, I must live. Ideas may flow through me indefinitely so I will never be ready to die.

And going crazy: It is not so much that I can no longer care for myself. It is that I won't be aware anymore off my actions. Or that I have gone off the deep end. As of now, any peculiarities i may have, I am at least acutely aware of. Any irregularities are nothing more than a minor behavioral disorder, I assume. But what if I suddenly crack? It is probably an irrational fear but the looming threat of losing awareness hangs over me. In the same sense that a roof over my head may collapse at any moment. I don't really think about it at all but it's always a possibility.

Dying, though, looms over my head like a big ol spooky black shadowy figure type of fella breathing down my neck saying "ooooh i am a big shadowy figure, here to remind you of your mortality." It's always ALWAYS in the back of my mind.

But I guess the problem is not suddenly cracking, which I am sure is irrational; the real worry is the slowly losing grip with reality. Sometimes I really do feel like I have slipped a little further into madness. On the outside, I am able to compose myself. Which is comforting--being able to present as a vapid run of the mill nothing of a person. It's as if I have no problems at all.

As an aside, another fear of mine is that the mask will slip, or that it already has. Just a quick look at me and someone knows there's something off. They will realize I am not normal like them.

I have my little quirks, nothing too out there, I think. Sometimes I can be obsessive about something or another for a short amount of time. What inspired me to write this was the being obsessed with someone. I never worried about it before. I might find some obscure youtuber, subscribers only in the double or triple digits, or some oddity of a person on another corner of the web. Their stories may fascinate me for days at a time. But now, now as in yesterday, when it thankfully only lasted about 24 hours, I felt a different sort of obsession, with them as a person rather than the story of their lives. A stalker-y sort of obsession. I did not do anything that would be cause for head-scratching and collar-tugging but were my inhibitions a bit lower, who knows.

Once again this has turned into a stream of consciousness, jumping from one thought to the next. But unlike my private messages, which I have every intention of sharing specifically with close folks, I do not care about making this perfectly coherent. I only want to write out my thoughts. It is part of my creative philosophy to not let work go to waste, so I must make it public in some capacity regardless. Otherwise, I might as well have not written this at all. Also unlike my private messages, I feel slightly less inhibited -- though more inhibited in a few other ways. Having my thoughts out, publicly, does not matter here in the safety of my own website, where there are no comments or reactions. I do not wait with bated breath to see if there is a response, whether I am hoping to see one or hoping that my awkward ramblings were ignored. These words just exist. No pressure. They may not even be seen. But they exist. Because I have shared them.

I always have this fantasy of having done something horrible and changing, so as to somehow gain forgiveness. Or if not forgiveness, being swiftly murdered by those I have wronged. I killed your family, woman, beat me to death with a rock while I lie here and take it. But I come to the thought that in order to do so, I must first do something horrible. And I don't want to do that.

Don't get me wrong, I've totally done horrible things. I did not mean to do them, or I did not see them as horrible at the time, but I am by no means perfect.

But I have never intentionally done wrong. I do recall, in fact, a certain debacle in which I strained a relationship, in the loosest meaning, to the breaking point, and miraculously pulled it back together a long time after. It did feel good to have that redemption, I must admit. It certainly feels good to confront ill feelings in others and oneself. We should all be more honest. This is growing muddled, though. More of a stream of consciousness than a single idea like I intended while writing this.

I am currently listening to Miles Davis' album "Big Fun." That is not what this entry is about. But it is worth noting I am always listening to music. Great background noise when I don't immediately have to listen to something else. But that is not what this entry is about. Yesterday night, I was watching a video by one Indigo White. She is an amateur porn star. As you may well imagine, it was a porn video. Why do I mention something personal like my porn habits? There's two answers to that question. One is that this is my website and everything on it is personal already. The other answer is that this video is not representative of my porn habits at all. I prefer to close my eyes and listen to slow-burner audio porn. A creative imagination will always be sexier than the visual reality.

But I won't let myself get sidetracked. I am writing about this Indigo White because, unlike other pornographic videos, just about all of hers include behind-the-scenes footage such as her setting up the scene, as well as her talking to the camera after the outro of every video. I don't usually watch that part. But yesterday I wasn't very interested in the porn half of the video anyway so I skipped to the other section. The immediate thing I noticed was that she blew her nose (she later explains it is because of allergies) and I thought about if I had ever seen someone blow their nose in porn before. Likewise, a section of the book Private Citizens by Tony Tulathimutte points out that it never rains in porn videos.

I don't watch the video sort of porn as often because I am left dissatisfied with it in all forms. But I was insanely captivated by Indigo White suffering from allergies and expressing that she didn't have the energy to do a post-video photoshoot. I considered the humanization effect from this but thought about how it contrasted with, say, interviews with porn stars. The sort of "hahaha yes mr porn director i do love taking it up the ass" thing that feels as scripted as everything else. I'm not seeing someone talk truthfully, I'm seeing another act. They are too cheery. Anyone can act cheery. I would like to see these porn stars choke on a kernel of popcorn or trip on the stairs, rather than make a youtube vlog. Shatter the illusion of the entertainer, or porn star, by showing the worst of yourselves. Not the smiley la la la nonsense, but the suffering, so at to be reminded these pieces of meat rubbing against other pieces of meat are actually human. Sincerity is more important than the best performance, to me. I don't mind the fake orgasms, that's just part of the act, but when I can see Indigo White "orgasming," suddenly stop to adjust the camera, and then go back to orgasming, I am captivated. The inherent fakeness of most porn that we've grown accustomed to makes any amount of realism seem special.

Explicitly violent scenes in movies, or even real life, can be hard to watch. Or they can be scary. Which is understandable. An especially realistic rape or murder. I imagine to most they are scary, picturing yourself as the victim.

To me, they are terrifying picturing myself as the perpetrator. I can't help it. I still must remind myself that I am not the rapist or the murderer that I so easily see myself as. That I, for so long, thought I would become. I do wonder how my life might be different if, overnight, I forgot all about my problems. The next day they reared their head, it would be a new experience for me. Would I still be so deep in my hopelessness without reminding myself that I have these problems? We may eventually become who we believe ourselves to be, and my self image is a bastardization.

I feel such loathing for those who, inadvertently or otherwise, pushed me down deeper with their evil words, goading me, poking me with a stick like a mistreated animal at a miserable zoo. But if I am any animal, I am an ass. How can I blame others for seeing me as such when I told them myself that I am? A monster.

I am better now. But some things have been irreversible. The old are, seemingly, a lost cause. My only friends now are the new, because they did not bare witness to the charcoal spew I had let forth when I was another person entirely. Save for one exception, some very old friends. They pulled me out of the pit.

I do not blame the others for casting me out like scum. I was scum. I am owed nothing simply because I have changed. I only look towards those who I have now. They remind me of who I really am.

I often find myself, when viewing some form of media, empathizing with whoever is most the object of hatred. The tragic villain. Perhaps because I see myself as a bad person. Putting myself in imaginary circumstances in which I've done something horrible and I want forgiveness. Because I want to be better. But how much evil can one bring into the world and still be worthy of forgiveness when the time comes and they repent.

Well I've just about finished my website. I just need to add some content and then I'll be totally done. Anyway I guess I can talk about what I'm working on here but I'm not really doing anything notewrothy at the moment. That is all.

i have always wanted to talk about me and my projects so now i will. ͡*˙

making a website is a lot of work

hello world! hopefully this will not be too much of a hassle to use! i stole the format from another website!

Addendum: It is too much of a hassle!!!!

Addendum #2: i think i figured it out