I haven't been putting much of my writing online anymore. I kinda feel burnout by it. It's not 'cause I'm not writing anymore--I just don't wanna deal with uploading it and putting everything online. What exactly am I doing it for? There's no money involved (no one clicks the ads and my total revenue is zero). I don't really care about hits or the amount of people who read. I write for me and I don't hafta take the time to put that online. Besides, I don't like internet thieves.

I don't know why I'm concerned about internet thieves--it's not like anything I posted online is any good. I really don't have any vision for it or turning it into a profit. I guess it's 'cause it's my stuff. And while I haven't come across anyone stealing my stuff (except that woman who stole my title), it's still a threat if I make it all public. So I've kinda slowed down. Or stopped.

But I'm still writing. I write stuff for me and only me. I was able to maintain the site and make daily updates before because I had the time. Now it feels like I never have time. Work is driving me insane (for someone who prides himself on laziness I have been working way too hard lately). The Girlfriend does occupy some of my free time but it's not like she a succubus. Plus I was bored most of the time anyway.

Anywhos, I suppose I should post a blog now that I've got ten seconds of free time.

I have stories to tell but haven't had a chance to tell them. Like last week before work, I pulled into a spot in the parking lot. The guy next to me parked awfully close to the line (about two or three inches) but was perfectly legal. In the process of shimmying out of my car, I dropped my keys on the concrete. I bent over, picked them up--and banged my head on the car's doorframe in the process. As I screamed in pain, I jerked my door open and hit the car next to me.

"What the fuck are you doing," said a voice coming from inside. Nevermind that I had possible head trauma, this dillhole was concerned that I might damage is 1993 LeBaron. "You hit my car you fucking idiot."

I was off my game because of the blow to my head and immediately went on the defensive. "Sorry--but it wouldn'tve happened if you didn't park so close to the line."

"I was here first, asshole--I can park wherever the fuck I want." He continued to assault me with names and profanity. Being caught completely off-guard to his presence, I struggled to regain composure (blunt hit to the brain does that)

I'm not proud of the situation because I can fully admit I was at fault (although he did park too close to the line); however, I found myself being incredibly defensive because he was being a total jerk. With all the profanity and name-calling, who wouldn't feel defensive? No one should have to take that or be treated that way. I found myself placing blame on him because he so adamantly insisted it was my fault.

In the end, I realized it wasn't worth it. I didn't wanna leave my car near that guy because I didn't wanna come to find a 'fuck you' keyed into its side. I got back into my car and drove to the other side of the parking lot. By this time, the swelling had gone down and I was able to think.

I feel bad about what happened because it's so unlike me. I'm very quick to accept blame when it's my fault. Too often in society, people find someone else to blame other than themselves. Last time I went to traffic school I was in a room full of 130 innocent people. I was the only one in the room the stood up and said, "Yeah, it was my fault--I ran a stop sign." Everyone else was framed by crooked cops (in Orange County nonetheless) or circumstances that were beyond their control.

I shouldn'tve blamed that guy for parking too close. I shouldn'tve engaged in his exchange of insults. I just felt the need to defend myself to all that ridicule and insult. The sad part is that whole ruckus was over nothing. His car was fine. What probably got his attention was the loud whap my head made when it hit the door--'cause that blow was far more severe than anything his car went through.

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