A Perfunctory Life in Concentric Circles

It occurs to me, randomly, that the reason why the journal-style blog sensation doesn't sit well with me is simple: I spend most of my time keeping (close to) everything I inwardly think from being outwardly expressed. It's not so much that I "bottle up" my emotions or what have you, so much as I have a constant flow of thoughts that would serve no purpose other than to hurt and anger, or are plain pointless.
The key to being sarcastic, after all, is to make sure your knee-jerk reaction to things is to be a prick, and say the first thing to pop into your mind in a funny way.
Also, I don't subscribe to that school of psychology that says it's necessarily good for human relationships to communicate everything that you feel and think. It's a horrible idea as far as I'm concerned, in fact, because a ton of my (so-called) proto-ideas--thoughts of partial ideas that are had in leading to a whole idea--are really damn stupid, often enough.
Not to mention the large amount of trains of thought that end with, invariably, the statement, "It's their life," or, alternately, "They have the right to do as they want, in the end." Which is to say that I can guarantee you that I will probably make a snap judgment about your words or actions and simply write it off, unless it strikes me as valid; in which case, I may very well express it.
Which is part of the origin of this Blog: the expression of what I consider valuable thoughts.

In conclusion: nobody should want to peer inside my head. It's not a happy place. Especially when I'm listening to Stabbing Westward's Ungod album, as this band is, along with a few others, my "angry pleasure" music (It's kind of like guilty pleasure, but angry, get it--I'm a clever boy).

Adios.

and this is what you take from me