HEY I HAVE ALMOST NO TYPE TO WRITE BUT I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT I AM OK.
THINGS ARE COOL HERE WE ARE HANGING OUT IN THE NEXT LEVEL YOU KNOW LIKE DRE SAID ... ONE THAT YOU HAVE NOT BEEN YET.
(ok, coast is clear.)
Honestly, it is okay up here on the next level. What I really needed to escape was the cult-like nature of Earth. Really, we were the only ones who were able to see things clearly, the only ones who were independent thinkers on the entire planet.
I mean, I tried all the options that earth offered me.
I contemplated the cult of Orthodox Judaism, but It kicked me out because I touched a man while on the rag. I joined the cult of Christianity, but It kicked me out because I did not believe in god. I tried to be in the Cult of Female; I tried to be in the Cult of Male. But neither worked. I was a competitive bitch who preferred direct confrontation to underhanded manipulation and I wore micro-minidresses to my Math Club Finals. I thought to myself: "If I'm so smart, why can't I figure out how to look good?" But the cult said: "If she is at all cute, she must be stupid." Stupid GenderCult rules.
I tried to be a member of the Cult of Marriage for a while, but It rejected me because I did not fit the heterosexual image of "wife." So I dove into The Cult Of Work.
When there, I tried out the Cult of Attorney for a while. It scorned my hair, my inline skates, and my propensity for dancing in micro-minis in gay bars on Saturday nights, so It ousted me.
And then I discovered the Real 'It' -- THE INTERNET REVOLUTION. Oh glee! Oh joy! It told me, "It is forcing us to reconsider and re-evaluate practically every thought, every action, and every institution formerly taken for granted."
It said: "Everything is changing: you, your family, your education, your neighborhood, your job, your government, your relation to 'the others' . . . 'Because the Digital Revolution is whipping through our lives like a Bengali typhoon."
And as the kicker, it PROMISED, I swear it promised, that "If [I'm] looking for the soul of our new society in wild metamorphosis, our advice is simple. Get Wired. "
So I did! I built some Web Sites, with Perfect HTML. But I still could not find that Life Of Leisure that I was promised.
And even my new Leader, Bob, did not seem to care. (Not to mention that I was hardly surrounded by decent booty call prospectives!)
Seeing no choice other than "militant centrism", I opted, instead, to Be Myself.
I donned my Black Nikes, castrated myself, drank some Booze, and caught the next Comet to the Next Level.
IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE ME.
vErY tRuLy YoUrS,
Unnamed Female, Age Almost-29
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