Migration

Wow. Blogging. Web Log. Internet Log.
There must be a word to describe someone who uses a journaling method every so often. They use it excitedly for a few days, a few weeks. Then stop.
They pick it up a month later.
Then they forget.
They stop completely.
They have ridiculous gaps that span years.
That's me.
I'm sure I can scroll down this particular blog and find out every time I've claimed to to have started and stopped.
We humans are creatures of habit, and I'll be damned to try to break any mold.
Because Google told me to migrate my blogger account over, I not only unquestioningly complied, but now feel compelled to create an entry based off of such a behavior. Is it so wrong that I unwittingly accept whatever Google wants to do with my online information? In many ways it's like how Apple-philes will allow all of of their everything to be completely saturated by iWhatever-they-want. As much as I laugh at the sheepiness of an Mactard, I am blindly doing the same thing.
Meh.
My god is better is than your god.
Anyhow, my last entry was over two years ago, and exhaustively spewed my growing dissatisfaction with being able to get a job.
I've determined that I do not care about who reads this. I care that I write it down.
If that sentence didn't follow the sentence above it, it was because I stopped caring about what I was writing before, and moved on.
See, I don't write blogs so that YOU can read it. I write it, so that I can remember. To be honest, I don't have any concrete memories prior to 3rd grade. Hell, just a couple hours ago, I couldn't figure some high school acquaintances name.
What did I eat two days ago? Put a gun to my crotch and I still wouldn't be able to give you an answer that I would feel confident behind.
Anyways, I need to keep writing. Yes, I got a job. Yes, I love it. So that's out of the way, let's move on.
Here's to the hope that I write in this again.
P.S. look at the dumb shit I built into the blog, below:

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Mood: <- Mood? Oh that's super important. It's like a status update. Sure, I'm feeling critical.
Food: <- Not medifast. That's all you really need to know. So BACK ON THE HORSE.
Exercise: <- Does walking up stairs count? Then yes. I totally did that.
Condition: <- this MUST be somehow different than mood. Okay, FAT. That's the condition.

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