what a feelin'

I have three days of midterm from COB. I should be using this time to research my upcoming English essay, and catch up on other missed homework. Instead, I've made several posts on a comm dedicated to wank, none of which were actually wanky. Last night, I also got myself banned from Metaquotes for posting a locked post without permission. I'd like to think that I should've gotten a warning, and then had the post deleted, but it was stupid of me to make the mistake in the first place.

I'm an Internet addict. Right now, I'm in a pair of shorts sitting in front of a computer at one PM in the afternoon. I got up at 10:45, and have eaten nothing. We currently only have dialup. I have come to realizze that, maybye, just maybe, I should take a break from all but the sparest use of the web for a while. And, oddly enough, this has provoked a small feeling in the pit of my stomach, not unlike the one I get when I'm angry. Except this one is composed of raw sadness. I know I need to interact with Reality, but my emotions aren't listening.

My amount of art production has gone way down, from the alltime spike it hit before I set up our old dialup. With this has come the startling revelation that the Internet itself, the thing that inspired me to pick up my pencil again a few years back, after a half-decade's truancy , is actually the biggest impediment to my creativity. I keep trying to force work out for the sake of my dA account. "I can't disappoint the people devwatching me!" I think. I know that forcing art only leads to creative drought-much akin to overworking the soil on one's farm-, but I try it anyway.

This above all: to thine own self be true.
-Hamlet


I have the Internet above my art, and my art above my schoolwork and future. My schoolwork is important in the shortrun, and my art more important in the longrun. And the Net? I hate to admit it, but it's just a distraction. I'm cutting back to a few webcomics, comms, and blogs per week. I must focus on my schoolwork, getting a job, and my Driver's Licence. I'm in my second year of eligibility; there ar epeople who graduated after I did who have theirs. Heck, my little sister turns 17 this December, and aside from the rather terrifying prospect of having to kill some poor guy in the near future, this means that my sister will have her permit at the same time as me.Earlier today, I passed up a perfectly good oppurtunity to go driving with my dad to make this post. Clearly, I need help, probably professional.

I need to find my reset button, and hit it, hard. Jonathan is broken. Time to take the machine into the shop for repairs, possibly an upgrade.
//tied up in ancient history

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