I’ve been deluged with projects here at the Day Job, and so it seemed as appropriate a time as any to ignore all of that and spend my day surfing the interweb. I think I’m finally all caught up on blogreading, I’ve enlightened myself on current events, added twenty people that I actually know — and one really cute girl that I’d like to know — to my MySpace account, and briefly pondered the massive list of Things I Need to Get Done.

And suddenly, it’s 10 AM.

Anyone else in my position would probably have weighed the merits of a stable paycheck with good benefits against further tomfoolery, and at least taken a crack at a random item on the boss’s list. And I think at least one of the voices in my head probably considered the idea. The other voices are driving today, though, and so I spent some time shopping for things I’ll never buy, updating my links, helping a friend set up a blog, and finally, against anyone’s better judgment, playing the Meme game.

Real Ultimate Power You scored 67 Awesomeness and 40 Style!

You are a mammal. You like to flip out and kill people. Strangers are afraid to drop a spoon around you, for fear of your startled reaction. Combining the timeless awesomeness of the ninja and the deadly style of… the ninja… you are someone to be feared, admired, and kept a good distance away from. … If they can even see you. Glimpses of ninjas caught at : http://www.realultimatepower.net/

Oh God, why? Why did I take this?

You know, I could be updating my resume, adding factoids like “Neely calls me ‘The Vault'” or “Can perform spotless impression of my evil twin, Zyklon the Intimidator.” I could be getting some freelance writing done, like that piece on surgical porn for Penthouse (it’s just the Forum, but they’ve promised me a few captions if the letters are well-received). Hell, I could have been preparing my platform for Alabama Senate canadidate for this fall (is it bad form to run as a member of the Donner Party?).

But playing games is a great way to pass the time, particularly if you are — for purposes of appearance, if nothing else — chained to a desk for eight hours a day. If only there were a good version of online RISK available that appeared, to the corporate peon eye, to be a Powerpoint presentation underway, or a string of PHP code.

I’ve thought of spending my days more productively. There was a time when I used my time and this very blog to work subversively on my now-abandoned novel (if you go back here, for example, and here). Since the novel has been trashed due to my own inherent laziness, I don’t do much of that (I would work on screenplays, but I hate formatting those freehand, and besides, now that I’m an award-winning screenwriter, I don’t want to open myself up to copyright battles). I ponder throwing random ideas here, but frankly, I’m lacking inspiration these days.

So I play games, and ponder things.

Things like mindgames, and how without them, relationships would be so much simpler. Simpler to enter into. Simpler to extricate from. Simpler to live inside of. Simpler to live with.

Is that all the prepositions that I can think of with which to end sentences? For the moment, it’ll have to do.

Things like the dream I had two nights ago of Melissa (and Mark Lindsay, but we’ll leave that part out for the moment), and how it made me realize that I’m mistaken when I tell people that we’re still friends. We’re still quite friendly, I guess (such as our relationship can be with so mnay issues still on the table), but it’s been the filming of Muckfuppet since we’ve even spoken. You can hardly call that a friendship. Well, I can hardly call it that. But I’m sort of stringent about words like “friend” and “acquiantance” and “rectal exam.”

Things like the fact that Muckfuppet is almost done, for good, and left to stand on it’s on merits, and I think that makes me really nervous. Not for the least because I don’t know that I have anyone around me that will tell me if it’s worth a shit (I’m through with it, so constructive criticism is pointless; but an honest critique of the suck factor – or lack thereof – might save me a lot of money on press kits and festival entry fees).

And now I’m stuck making a mental list of things that I like that start with M. Madness. Moist – a great band from the ’90s, and Glenny’s least favorite word. Meaning. Moulin Rouge (fuck you, it’s a great movie, and gorgeously shot). Wonder Showzen.

What? M is just W flipped over. Who’s being stringent now?