My Fingers are Cold and my Mind is Dull

I've got a few posts recently that are all works in progress.  They sit here on my computer, hidden in my blogger, incomplete.  They will probably never be completed.  You see, my biggest problem is that if when I start writing something and I don't finish it I will probably never go back to it.  Every couple of months I go back and look at my incomplete works and determine if I even still give a shit about what I started to say and if not I hit the delete button.  Most of the time I just delete them all and start to look to the future again.

I only bother bringing this up because as of late I really just don't feel I have anything to say.  I know I have said this before but I think anger and depression bring out my creativity.  When I'm happy and content I don't have the same passion towards writing or creativity.  I'm driven by the darker side of reality.  I guess this really isn't a bad thing because me writing less means that I'm at a place in life where I'm pretty damned satisfied but at the same time I'd really like to continue to try and express a modicum of creativity.

My next two post will probably involve a look back and a look ahead.  It is that time of year again after all.  I know I came into 2012 with some goals and expectations and I think I probably ignored all of them for the most part.  However I will revisit the post (or postings) and see just how off I was.
Even with that said I feel that while 2012 started out as the worst year of my entire existence it surely is not ending that way and as such I cannot just throw out a blanket statement of "2012 sucked and I'm glad it's over."  The reality is that as everything winds down it became a year just like every other, a year with hi's and low's.  That's bullshit, I feel like I have been cheated out of a good curmudgeon story or 3 for when I'm old, wrinkled, crabby and decrepit.

Right now I am typing away and waiting for the impending disaster which, once again, will not happen.  One of my recent (non) posts was essentially a short story that I was going to tell over the course of 3-5 days about the end of the world, my preparation for it, my struggle during it and my eventual survival of it all.  The issue was that while I started it and thought I had a good idea I ended up leaving the house and not spending as much time in front of my computer as it was going to take to complete it.  That and the fact that when I was in front of my computer I just couldn't find the proper thoughts to finish out my narrative.
Maybe I'll come back to this shortly after the New Year begins and treat it like a look back instead of as a running diary.  Maybe I'll just hit delete and pretend that shit never happened.

Either way, it's 11:43 and I've only got approximately 17 more minutes until shit gets real and the end of the world beings (because I believe this happens concurrently with my time zone of course).
So, that means that I've got to get naked and spank the monkey real quick and spend the remaining 15 minutes on Facebook making stupid posts and pissing off the non-believers.