In the words of a famous dishwasher.

I guess I'm looking for my "game" lately. I know that at least one of you is getting this reference, which makes it worthwhile.

A blank screen is a difficult thing to turn into words. I wish that something exciting or thought-provoking had happened so I could reflect on it, but for now I'm fresh out. Why is it so important to write every night? Is forced writing better than no writing at all? I mean, there are things I could say, but this is hardly the place. I could pretend that my day-to-day life holds some significance and piss and moan about how I had too much homework or I had to work, but who wants to read that? This is a writing journal, not a damn autobiography. Too many things in life are referencial anyways.

Bingo! He's found something to say!

Life is too referencial to begin with. What do I mean by that? I mean that too many conversations begin with or revolve around a reference to something that has already happened. Not even discussion involving said event, just a reference. A movie quote, an old story, an inside joke; they're all trite and meaningless self-references that prevent thought from occurring. Think about that every time you make reference to something.

Remember that old saying "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all"? I believe the exact opposite, if one exists. The nice things are the meaningless things in life. That isn't to say that they aren't necessary, only that they don't produce anything. Positive reinforcement doesn't directly promote ingenuity. Criticism is the way to go. Fix your errors to make the product as perfect as it can be. Work from the ground up.

Finally:

You can't ask for help to carry your load,
When you complain without halt,
Claiming another's fault,
All the while, playing life on easy mode.

Pay your dues and face the tune,
You'll seek the retribution you feel you deserve,
But for true revenge you've not the hate nor the nerve,
Another ghost town when you pace at the high noon.

But you can spell, so I need not assist you,
Connect the dots,
Mark your own spots,
Then realize why we all can resist you.

But in ten years or so, when we reunite,
I'll laugh and smile,
Knowing you could never walk a mile,
In my shoes and still take flight.

So this is for you, your ridicule,
That rejection, injection and seduction,
Image shearing and ego reduction,
Because now you're thrice the fool.