It's amazing to me how many people out there, even friends of mine, who feel a lot of self-loathing and hatred of their own selves. (Okay, that was sort of redundant.) I'm not saying I'm better than these people. It's just not in my constitution to hate myself. I don't think I am just the cat's meow or anything, either, but I can't fathom the conumdrum of self-hate. And really, I think I would be a likely candidate for it, seeing as I am a weird-looking nerd with a small life and I do dumb, naive things. But I don't blame anything for that. I don't blame myself, or other people. I just accept it.

I bet that doesn't make any sense. Oh well. My entries always make more sense in my head when I'm not near a computer.

I was watching "Sex and the City" last night and it was terrible. The theme of the episode was the four ladies acting adolescent (yes, more so than usual). Carrie and her man-of-the-ep smoked pot in his parents' apartment. I'm going to get self-righteous and say how little respect I have for pot-smokers. It's something I delight in being smug about for some reason. For one, in middle school, maybe, you're looked at as cool if you smoke it. After that, you're just looked at as someone who likes to waste money in a juvenile way, or a guy in a band, or both. I know I sound all After-School special and shit, but too fucking bad, at least I haven't paid to purposefully kill my brain cells. Pot-smokers do not impress me, whether that is their goal or not. I feel strongly about this opinion, yet a little apologetic for expressing it. I do that a lot.