riding dirty

Hope is starting to become a bad word for me. As Terry Pratchett so eloquently puts it, Hope is the Greatest Gift. And that's that. So what's the point? New year's resolution: to live without hope, hence avoiding any form of disappointment whatsoever. Don't hope for anything, and all your wishes will be fulfilled, because you didn't wish for anything in the first place. World peace? Fat chance. A nice car? Don't bet on it. A stable job? Go fish. The woman of your dreams? In your dreams.

In other news, cars collide and people die. Oh, and the Internet is becoming a better place with this. Cool or what? Now you can learn everything (well, it seems like everything) under the sun without having a degree to show for it! Employers will love that! This is the new shit. Actually, I'm all for it, paper qualifications be damned (due mainly to my lack of said coveted items). This trend should be made to continue; kudos to MIT for being such phat kids and hopefully a trailblazer for others to follow suit. The signal to noise ratio will finally cease embarrassing the human race, heralding a brave new world of expanding horizons. A world wherein intellectual discourse on worthwhile topics such as the impact of convergent technology on human sociology and its repercussions takes precedence over captivating gossip on the malleable existence of Britney Spears' knickers. And the information superhighway will finally live up to its billing. Ha ha! Oh, how I wish!

Oops.

My short albeit still-ongoing life in the military is at the moment interesting or boring, depending on my mood. Currently undergoing training to be a medic. Saving lives is not my forte, but what the hell it is better than nothing. At the very least, perhaps screaming, "I know CPR!" at a fancy restaurant upon seeing an individual collapsing in fits will get the attention of a few blue-blooded girls of independent means. But, hey, I'm not hoping for anything.

My wireless internet connection is beginning to suck. Might not even be able to post this by the time I finish. Ah, well, at this point, does it matter? No one's reading. Therapy, therapy, therapy.