obese

is it okay to be content to be obese??

I think that is a phenomenal question

when should we improve ourselves? how? and when should we be accepting of oursevles.

Does contentment lead us to live less-fulfilling lives?

I don't have the answer to this question.

The answer to the obesity question should have nothing to do with how many people in this world are obese, but more on statistics of what proportion of obese people successfully lose weight and how that affects the quality of their life.

My guess is that there is no good reason to be content with one's weight. There is no good reason to be content with one's life. There is no good reason to not continually strive for something better.

pessimism

you probably dont want to hear this

shloob, i am immune

Wowza, suck my fucking penis organ

I will say what appears to be the truth from the perspective of one man, 26 now.

And my perspective will be straight truth like you don't want to hear. I will shatter the think glass that forms your bubble of satisfaction.

Firstly, I think you sense the dissapointment, I think you know your parents had greater hopes for you

And in all but probably one odd facet of life you are a true disappointment...your very denial of this, your aversion to contemplate how mediocre you are, you fear of considering how short you have fallen of the target... your a disappointment Pal.

the target is well defined in the Book of Deuteronomy: Beautiful wife and Humorous children. The target is lavish home with backyard basketball court... and if you don't agree, then take your head out of your fuckin ass and look around. You aren't in Turkmenistan anymore. You are in Barack Obama Land.

Look around at your unsatisfactory life and stop being satisfied. Start being furious.

Can you not handle this? Then I will change the subject to something more politically correct like Charlie and his chocolate. but in the end Charlie becomes CEO of the chocolate factory and you aren't shit.

Your life ain't shit. Ain't Shit.

dont lie to me

And dont think this is my journal...is it?

Whatever... can you even pay attention

I have your attention

Gone to some distant thought about measuring up.

Measuring up to him, to her expectations....to what you thought you could suck out of this life

Settling...settling....settling....that is your job

Your role on this planet is to settle for whatever they give you. And always complain when they take something away.

After settling, your job is to half-ass it. Saving energy is something you know all-about.

SAve energy says Mrs. Krabopple....and I will save energy with my ass on the couch, remote control in hand, potato chips and beer within reach..

I save energy when I sit in a machine that goes a mile a minute.

I save energy with my ELECTRIC CAN OPENER.

I still have nightmares about this ridiculous device and I wonder what kind of lazy fuck my mom was to keep one of these in the kitchen.

Speaking of journals, people are liars. All of you lie through your teeth until you hate yourselves.

Stop lying and stop the passive aggressive remarks.

Diary of a wimpy kid I suppose.

This one rhymes

I’m taking each moment as it comes

But my moments are riddled with obsession

My thoughts are the sounding of drums

By a child with little discretion

I hesitate to say that I’m ailing

But these thoughts evidence many wounds

A mind cut by its numerous failings

And unsure of a future that looms

I can play for myself a sweet song

And vow yet again I’ll improve

But this old brain, just as clever, has caught on

And taunts me to make the first move

It’s been 6 years and I feel just as lost

And the drumming I cannot abate

A great life, on schedule to take off

Now a shuttle from runway to gate

Beliefs and emotion, they dictate my time

And though friends may be a quick fix

When the lights go down, reemerges my mind

And it deals in well-sharpened sticks

So for now, here I am, putting thoughts to a page

But soon I’ll emerge from my cave

To a world I hate where self-esteem takes the stage

In the tragedy of “Master and Slave”

They say, to succeed, that first one must fail

So I really don’t know what I’m worth

But until the winds of change hit my sail

I will shuffle my feet through this earth

the flaws of thought

My brain sucks. My brain is so bad, it recognizes that it is broken itself.

If my macintosh told me every day, "Im a shitty computer" I would believe it.

Fuck these fuckin walls. And fuck the people on the other side of them.

What is this compassion bullshit we all preach when deep down we hate each other.

We are stuck in a world full of sensitive, egotistical, annoying, predictable fuckin fucktards.

I don't want people to be better than me, but I want them to be less annoying.

and I want the right to murder a person or two on my way to work.

Compassion: what a crock of bologna. People just pretend and pretend and then go home and bitch and moan to anyone who will listen.

People, according to Kepler's law of planetary motion, are not where they want to be in life. Either too old, too ugly, too fat, too poor, too much themselves.

The shear laziness of people knows no limits. A laziness that leads us to waste our lives in front of LCD monitors, stuck in traffic chasing the one thing that seems to add dignity to our meaningless existence: money.

Oh how I despise this fucking currency. Why must our existence revolve like Einstein's law of relativity, around the quantity of local currency that we posses.

This family can fly to Poland, but this family never will. You can eat steak and potatoes, but they will have rice all week. You will die of malnutrition but they will tip the attractive waitress 30 Euros so that they can feel like winners.

it is insanity, and their is nothing that can be done at this point.

Call me an old-fashioned guy, but....

I can spot a knock off with my eyes closed

I can smell a salesman a mile away

And you can too...

so for the sake of saving time, let's cut to the quick.

I am in the business of writing poetry that assists me in gathering my thoughts and encouraging myself to pursue my ambitions.

Some write because they like the art of it and they wish to please the audience. I keep the audience in mind, but the poetry is for me. And maybe I'll get a shloob from Justin every time (I think its Justin), but I welcome it. I hope you write, "this poem sucked" and I respond, "suck a dick" and I bet life will go on.

I have met some of the most sensitive, fragile people... and it disgusts me how much they care about really stupid shit.

People think they've seen it all. But they've only seen television. People think they are veterans at the game of life, but they've always lived in one place. People think they've faced adversity, but they haven't.

Adversity is real pain. Adversity is lasting pain. Adversity does not entail acceptance, it entails surviving intact. Finding your feet again after the brute force of life knocks you on your ass.

I have tasted adversity. I have witnessed adversity. I have seen that it leaves a mark as deep as it wishes. Sometimes adversity leaves us in a coma, and sometimes it leaves us dead.

Love seems to be this focus of so many. Everyone wants the acceptance and companionship of another person. Everyone seems so desperate to sacrifice so many of their liberties for a friend they can have sex with.

But I don't know love, and my criticism is often unwelcome, and my poetry is just my train of thoughts, and my life is a story of .......(to be continued)

why do I think Im so great?

why do I hold on to these fantasies?

I know they give me hope, but why do I believe them.

I think I believe in a future michael herold

FY fucking eye: If you are skeptical that michael herold can change then please don't read, cause I do believe.

Those that don't believe humans can make major changes are very much a part of the problem and not the solution.

The solution is change. Internal change.

Problem solving, planning, and ACTION.

I will change. I know why I do what I do. I fall for the same tricks, but I am recognizing them. I am confirming and recognizing. I am catching myself. I am seeing myself.

I am looking objectively at my own life even though I let emotion move me.

But emotion is what moves us all. Lifelong relationships are BUILT on emotions, and thus hence as a matter of fucking fucking fact we are emotional creatures.

Here. right here is a man. not a kid. not a kid. An adult. A human who can hold a conversation with world leaders and doctors and scientists. A man who can show a classy woman a good time. A man who understands government, economics, history, medicine and language.

I have a long way to go. and I see many traps ahead that I may very well fall into.

but the story of this man is far from over....