This weekend, I celebrate my birthday...kindof.  With all the excitement of a kid on a trip to the dentist, I have approached the weekend with the semi-dread of not being content.  Brother Harrelson, care to self-prophesy?  I profess to nothing else than what people would expect--that is, the rumbling and tumbling of the fall of Rome, corrupt kingdom with a crapshot end.  Luck of the draw did not fall on us tonight; we didn't get Jesus' clothes out of this batch of gambles.  Solving the negativity problem is not just an issue: to me, it's more a crisis than anything else.  As depression waxes old in the spirit it oppresses, the spirit dies along, tailing success with injustice.  It's a bigger problem than I've originally surmised, and I can't countermand my own soul forever.  A change is always needed in humanity.  Yes, I'm desultory, but please retain your composure.
I realized today that maybe, if I pray, God will grant me a vocalization in speaking that is less monotone which would grant me better chances with opposite sex.  Of course, anything aside from Georgia Tech would do that.  Would that even fulfill though, as misogynist as I've become?  The women I consider even do not consider me, and those have their own needs to be fulfilled by other agendas.  Whatever...Love shits on you when uninvolved and uninspired...