There is so much to see and hear. There is so much to touch.
There are so many books with words and pictures.
There’s music, videos, paintings, drawings, real and virtual.
We have plasma screens, tv screens computer screens, and of course bulletin boards with fliers stacked one on top of the other.
Then there are blogs like this one, and wikis, and all of those social networking sites.
We have so much, too much information.
So what do I do? I add more.
I can’t seem to stop producing artifacts. But why do I feel the need to do so? Perhaps I crave attention. Maybe I’m just trying to prove that I’m here and that my existence means something.
Life is all about doing stuff isn’t it? At the very least you have to eat, breathe, and go to the bathroom. And then if you want to continue to live, you have to work, or find some other way to obtain money so you can have food and shelter, so that you can continue to breathe.
So I don’t know exactly why I’m here, and I can’t even be certain that any of this even exists.
I think I am doomed to keep doing and creating, because it’s in my nature. If the rest of the world ignores me, that’s okay.
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