Ramble ramble brambles

The usual landslide of pressure. That comes from nowhere. I wonder where it comes from, as an aside, not my main goal here. But it’s curious, is it social pressure, or psychological, or neurological, or what?

Place and time. Impromptu statements like that wriggle their way in. I have to get back on track.

I’ll be fucking ending coursera’s machine learning course without the cert, no problemo, and starting DataCamp to study to be a data scientist.

Meanwhile I’m watching Mike Shinoda on Twitch. He’s a member of Linkin Park, a rock band I like. Studio time making music.

I’ve begun to consider philosophy. My own worth, and what exists in the world. There is more to the world than meets the eye. Every depressed citizen should know this. There’s more to the world than meets the eye. It seems shallow and empty, but sometimes you have to dig and search to find the hard questions. Because I know you, if you’re like me, you like the cerebral challenge. The things that make you think and go Huh, that’s interesting, I wonder why? They exist. This is one of the reasons I’ve begun to consider philosophy. Also, dad’s cloning company he’s trying to start up raises some philosophical questions of identity. I wish to address them, in the end. For fun. Because I’m interested.

But then it’s like, well the formalism comes into the scene and kicks me in the shins and I shit my pants thinking about all the reading (boring, can’t stand it) I’d have to do to “learn” about this “subject”. When push comes to shove I don’t want to do it. But it’s a ruse–I do want to do it. It’s not me, it’s them. The writers are boring, the educators are staid. It’s not me. I do want to learn. But you have to fucking, educators take note, learn to fucking engage your audience. Tools. Ridiculous. Engage your audience. You should be in tune with them and know what vibes with them. I’m sort of in tune like that with my blog. It’s just a natural part of writing or creating any piece of media, getting that sixth sense for whoever’s on the other side of the screen or page or whatever. Mental model of the audience. Consider.

This blog is not going to make anyone wealthy. If you’ve come here in search of false promise, I apologize on the liars’ behalf, it won’t make you rich and successful. I’m just a depressed dude with a ton of underutilized potential trying to figure out how to do bum fucking anything in life.

So, warned.

I need to talk to my psychiatrist about my ADD. It’s only been diagnosed once but I think it might be real. I’m not sure. I don’t know what it’s like to have ADD. All I know is I have difficulty concentrating on things for long durations even when I wish to. That seems to me like the fucking archetypal, or one of the definitions, of ADD. I know. Stuff. I know. Shh.

I pick on my skin too much. And I slouch at the computer. The setup is so uncomfortable. This chair and desk are just terrible. I need to reinvest and find something new, better design. Or just start working out my abs. That’s not going to happen.

Hello. I recognize you. You are alive. Yes. Hello.

So, I don’t know, I don’t know, I know what I’m doing with my life, I want to work as a data scientist for a green tech company, but I’m so dramatic a person it kills me to try so hard for so long. Depression by the by. Byoo.

Etc.

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