I am not a monkey.

I am not a monkey.

I am not a monkey.

I am not a monkey.

I am not a monkey.

*sigh*

I am a code monkey. An oppressed and depressed tool ... or was that fool? Here I sit, spending too much quality time with those who care not - and thus have less time for those who do.

Ugh - I'm not truly depressed, rather tired and grumpy and feeling unappreciated (from certain quarters).

Here's something that fell out of my brain today while chatting. Don't worry, it's nothing to do with how I really feel - I wouldn't want you to think I was pathetic or idiotic! ;) It's merely something that came out and I thought sounded sorta poetic.

Of course, that's total bull in the situation I was using it (and pretty much any situation, in my view). There are far more positive solutions, just this one was wonderfully melodramatic. Reality doesn't always make for the best art, you know. What's that? You're telling me the saying goes "Truth is beauty, beauty truth"? Ah, but if that's the case, why is there such a correlation between artists (painters, poets, actors, etc) and drugs?

Bahahaha!

I'm such a nutcase. Making sense is for everybody else; me, I'll just continue to question my sanity. In fact, I'm playing "good cop, bad cop" with it right now!

This is the way the blog ends,
This is the way the blog ends,
This is the way the blog ends,
Not with a bang....