I'm often told that I should speak my mind. “You always put others first” they say, not intending it as a compliment exactly. “You gotta have an opinion”. Well, I do have them. People want me to articulate dreams and goals. That's not an unfair request. After all it's a step towards being able to take responsibility for myself, right?

A lot of the time I can only think of one goal, namely getting away from people. Their endless torrents of words. Their pregnant pauses and unspoken expectations. Their insistence that they are the ones at the far end of the room, the ones with the cool dispassionate view of me and everything. The ones without an agenda. Try to get the to admit that they have any preconceived notion of normalcy and they'll scoff, look amused, plead the 5th. It's not even something they want to explore as a possibility. Maybe it's the word they don't like.

I want to be left alone and not take part. I'm not misanthropic by nature, anymore than a person with a grain of sand in his eye hates dunes. I feel obligated to help people I meet. I feel obligated to include people, if I sense that they want it. I can be witty. I can be considerate, and I often am. Often enough that people consider me unassertive or selfless. Sometimes I am. Sometimes I just feel certain that no one wants to hear what's on my mind, since it's “LEMME ALONE MOTHERFUCKER! GO POUR WORDS OVER SOMEONE ELSE!”. It's not constructive.

When I've expressed a sanitized version of this, I'm told that it's “my anxiety talking”. I'm told that if I got what I wanted I'd be loco within a week. Maybe that's true. I don't always feel like I want to be on a different continent from everyone else, but a lot of the time I do. The feeling is clearly there, and not just as some kind of parasite on my real, rational goals and wishes.

Ah. Venting's good.

Here's some of the music I listen to when I exercise. It's good for throwing a tantrum in my mind too.


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"Half an African village doesn't stack up to having a well-upholstered rottweiler. It just doesn't compare".

Spoken by my dad. Ask me about the context.

I've been at a great viking market today. There were crafts, costumes, fighting, food and a show with Icelandic horses. There were some impressive beards too.

I bought some great (not too sweet!) mead. Yum! The third mead-seller we talked to denigrated the others, suggesting that what they sold wasn't 'real' mead. I wondered if he was right. Then I wondered how small it made him sound. Isn't that just the way with some of these small fandoms and hobbies? You just gotta be the most authentic, the tallest dwarf in the circus.

I'm enjoying my mead as I write. It goes well with a dark lager.

Btw, you anime or wuxia fans! Could you recommend me some good soundtracks for action and fighty-fighty?

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