In which Douglas states the obvious, struggling to maintain the delusion that he's not a meme-sheep.
I've noticed that I'm older than I used to be. The only reason I haven't accomplished as much as other people think I should have is because I've been mucking about having a good time instead, largely because I'm perfectly at ease with the fact that not being a real grownup is and always has been an ambition of mine. My body isn't working the way it used to, but my range of ailments isn't particularly onerous and is perfectly consistent with the laws of chance, the ailments of my forebears, and my age. I admit -- nay, proclaim -- my accumulation of habit and procrastination. I boldly refute any self-doubt and any shortfall in my sense of satisfaction. I don't think I have disproportionate influence in what you post in your own journal, but if you decide to post something like this then I'm sure it'll be a properly structured paragraph of your own devising, with sentences of a reasonable length, rather than some dreadful run-on sentence that's exactly the same as one you've seen elsewhere.
In other news, I have a cold. Sniff sniff snurrrccch eww. *kof* *kof* Urgh.