A New Me as Interesting as Rumi?

As one of my few friends has passingly hinted, I have far more hatred than love in store, I started to think about the purpose of my life. Not that I have gathered any direction, least of all an answer to it, but I conjured up another seemingly smart fast-fact about myself. There is far more stuff that I don't contribute to, than otherwise.

What? Did you expect some wisecrack there? The reason I used the first sentence was to simply state yet another fact about my potential. And well, in the meanwhile, I started off with some shameless, harmless lies. First, no friend dare hints such things to me. Second, I haven't started to think about my purpose in life. That grim statement was to do just that - add a grim tone to my new post that I'm struggling with. But yes, I have only a few friends. Sparingly.

If you're still with me, rather if you ever were, you could see that I don't update this blog, which in one real person's opinion, deserves to be filled more. One thing I love about life is the high I get on recognition. And praise, in a ridiculous way, is close to my passion. But there's also this wannabe ascetic in me that makes me pledge the other extreme. In a general, survival, mundane mode, I'm usually caught somewhere in between, unaware, but grumpy, nevertheless.

Laziness, I guess, generates dangerous end-products when combined with wit. Again, like most things about me, these two also have the ridiculous hopeless undertones. Not classy! Anyhow, as a result, I come up with awesome ways to escape from WORK, under the guise of 'spirituality'.

This post is just one of the very, very few attempts I've made in my life, to change the status quo.

If you, bloody god, are listening, or recording this for my karma later, please, sometime, tell me, was I a worthy earthling?