what kind of clay is that stuff made out of, anyway?

the intentions of mankind are myriad and unwavering in their attempts to appease the ego. i do what i do because i want to do what i do. i do what i do because i'm a sick and twisted mass of sapienic flesh that is only concerned with the self.

what a load of crock. and i don't mean the pottery.

i don't care what anybody says, 90% of the things i do in a day are for somebody else. mostly because i don't give two whiffs about myself and because i'm more concerned with the people i care about. it is my job to take care of those who are placed in my care, intentionally or not. it is my way to simply help those around me feel better about any part of their day.

which, again, may be a load of crock.

there is always the convoluted mess that vomits out of any interpretation of these things. the fact that doing things for others so that you feel better about yourself is really just helping yourself. the fact that doing things for others to do things for others to do things for others to make everyone all happy-go-lucky is really just a pathetic god-complex hiding behind a mask of benevolence even though it's all just wanting to make yourself feel superior and pedegogical.

there is always the narcissim behind the saint, the saint behind the narcissist, and all the foggy malfeasance on the part of your righteous intelligence.

and then there's the pedantic ramblings of a goofball who barely wants to make sense.