If I asked, would you?

Streamofconsciousness

doyouevergethosedayswhereonethoughtcombineswithanotherinalargestreamof
evercontinuingandredundantstrainsofirrelevantthoughteventhoughyouknow
fullwelleverythingandnothingsimultaneouslytodaywasn'treallylikethat,
butikindaofthinkthedayswillsteadilystreamtogetherasimarchinexorably
towardsinsanityi'mslowlydescending(orascending)intoamadnessthatican't
understandanddon'tquiteknowwhattodowithmyplansareallfallingintoblivionand
italmostseemsfutiletotrytokeepthembutsucharegoalsandwe'lljusthavetohopei
canpullmyselfoutofthewellofescapismifindmyselfplummettedintoiseetheproblem
iseemanysolutionsbutihavenomotivationforpracticallyanythinganywheresoilet
myselfatrophizeandit'sreallynotaverygoodthingtodoi'dtalkmorebutifi'mto
getthisthingdoneonschedulei'dbesthitsendnowandhereigo.

The Drug that just keeps...uhhhhhhhhh

I spent all day today in front of the computer. Essentially, anyway. All other goals, all other ideas, all other inklings are just wiped away in a giant sweep of this escape's hand. This is escapism practically at its' finest. Unlike real drugs, though, this one has no hangover, no legal consequences, and it doesn't run out. It's available 24/7. And all you need is a computer.
Really, it's terrible. I end each day looking back and thinking "Wow, I really wasted all of today." But what else can I do? Stare at the wall? I've no energy or motivation for anything else. I just waste away.
This is exactly why I gave them up. And now I'm lost again. Whatever shall I do... Someone needs to pull me out fo this quicksand, but I'm afraid there aren't any sturdy enough branches...
But really. Please. Save me.

Province of the Dylan

Well, I thought I’d give you an update as to, well, time in general. For convenience’s sake I’ll divide it into three sections because I know how much you people like order and the lack of chaos.

The Past

Well, I'm obviously out of school. I had a bit of a snaffoo because I unfortunately started thinking a bit. Thinking, as I have said a few times before, is a bad thing to do. You make connections, you realize things (or tell yourself you do), and you sort of unveil the carefully placed shroud you've used to surround reality, and what you see behind the curtain certainly isn't suitable for children.
So, in a prompt response to the continuing cycle of depression, despair, and that most wretched of thought patterns, nihilism, I went out and did something I hadn't done for the entire school year: I bought a MMORPG. What this means to those not used to such, shall we say "geekish", terminology is a Massively Multiplayet Online Roleplaying Game. Basically, it's an online video game where you make a character, run around, and SMASH things. It is possibly the most addicting thing you can do that does not involve harming your body in some way other than atrophy, loss of sleep, and avoidance of obligations social, physical, and sleepical. It is practically a complete escape from reality. But not only that, you participate in such a way that it surpasses books, TV, and movies because you actually have an active role.
So I did that Thursday. I was torn away from my new escape world (which happens to be superheros and crime-fighting, in case you're wondering), by our annual trip up Mt. LeConte. If you know me, and I assume you know me better than you would like, I have Mt. LeConte shirts up the wazoo. It gives the false impression that I hike frequently or feel some sort of accomplishment from conquering said mountain. Both are far from the truth. My father, who at some future point I may virulently verbally tear to pieces in some future entry, forces us to go with him because as far as I can tell, he's a sadist (or he wants to spend time with us, but like I said, sadist). He's also terribly out of shape, so it makes the entire thing a masochistic experiment for him and the one thing he can do to prove to himself he's still a man. It takes him at least twice as long as it takes Carrie and I, of course, but go figure. It also costs $91 per person to stay in the cabins I don't like, don't need, and don't want at the top. But he forces us anyway. Not to mention getting up at 5:45 to go see fog where the sun rises, or so the legend goes. So that was my weekend. Not too pretty, but it's only once a year. I did get another T-shirt though.
Then there was yesterday which, like President Chester A. Arthur, was not a complete failure. Given the relatively large number of participants in our expedition to Pigeon Forge, the distance and unfamiliarity, and the lack of clear, set plans as to where to go, it went quite well. I, being the pessimist I am (and just as a side note, I'm a shining, hopeful optimist compared to my father, but that's for another time. Just thought I'd throw that out for you psyche experts out there), figured the entire thing was destined for failure. I was pleasantly surprised. No one died, no one got drugged or knocked up, and only one person broke down in tears, but it was completely understandable (oh ye sadists, how can you sleep at night?). Although it did cost a fairly sizeable amount of money (about $45, but I'm a do nothing cheapskate, so that's a lot!), otherwise I can't complain much.
Basically it consisted of the sort of endeavors you see and avoid until that one time you do them just to say you've done them. Then you never realistically consider them again. We went to HillBilly Golf first. I honestly cannot understand why there aren't more homicides on the gold course. I mean, really. Golf has got to be one of the most infuriating games out there. It's slow, monotonous, and for someone who's horrible with distances like I am, it makes one almost as mad as gay-marriage protestors. Not quite as angry, but close. Then, if memory serves (and it doesn't), we ate. I drew a series of childish pictures because I needed something to do. It was...different. Then we walked around a bit and went to see a "4D movie experience" that consisted of moving chairs simulating an economically inefficient log flume and an obviously inebriated robotic soldier. Some people's rides didn't work so they got refunds. I got jipped $14. Eh, easy come... And then we went to the "Mysterious Mansion." It was typical as these things go, nothing too extraordinary. It's run by sadists and brings out the general state of paranoia we all now possess. You know things are going to happen, but even then you can't suppress that instinctual urge of self-preservation. I tried out the tactic of invoking humor and laughing maniacly which had mixed results. Even in broad daylight, a man in even a simple mask advancing towards you is going to make you a tad disturbed. They're bully sadists. And you pay them for it. It's symbolic of something, I'm sure. And then we bought taffy and went home.
Overall, it went well. What intrigues me the most about the entire thing, though, was that the best and most distressing part of the entire "adventure" was the other people. My peers, if you will. Well, in other words, you. I enjoy being around other people, but under certain conditions. I think the single thing that gives me the most pleasure in life is the laughter of others. Generally it's the laughter of others with me, but I'll take what I can get. I don't even mind talking about non-comical subjects. But it's the silence that really bugs me. Awkward silences, as I think of them, are the most annoying feature of social interaction. It makes me feel guilty for not contributing, for "failing" everyone else. And that sends me into a state of depression. So the only remedy I can think of is to let my innate eccentricites out and go crazy, which I do with varying success. That, or make a crack about hobos and their general state of not-aliveness. Whatever works.

The Present

Well, as of now I've been spending all day playing that blasted game. I'm telling you, these things are addicting. Like drugs, except legal and cheaper. And I'll keep doing it too, because there's nothing any of you could do to dissuade me. Not that you'd have a reason to try. Just thought I'd let you know.

The Future

However, the idea of spending my entire summer playing a game isn't all that appealing. So, I'm going to try to make a blog entry every single day in addition to the Abner blog. Whether it's Perse, Anarchy, Evil, this one, or my upcoming drama which may or may not happen, I'd like to get one entry in a day. Results may vary, but hopefully I can keep it up. Another thing I'd like to do is walk more. So I'll do that. I'd also half-like to do social things like yesterday with others, but that requires money so unless you have any ideas about free stuff and want to take me along, we'll just have to trash that un'. So keep an eye out, I know you've nothing better to do.
And that's about it. Yes, it was long. But, really, staring at walls isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Mental Streaking

One of the interesting things about my blog is that I'm generally uninhibited. I think there are 2 pieces of information I wouldn't readily volunteer and other than that, I'll spout out anything. It's abnormal, though. People aren't supposed to expose their innermost thoughts and feelings to every other person who takes the time and effort to hear/read them. At the very least, you hide the address or privatize it in some way. I just leave the entire thing open. I practically advertise it on my profile. Why? I'm not entirely sure. I certainly feel stupid and naked most times I do it. But I suppose it's to desensitize myself from the eyes of others. I know it's all foolishness. I know it's probably self-pity. But that unfortunately seems to be the state of things. The sooner I confront and try to understand them the better. Besides, you can stop reading anytime you want. It's not like I force you. At least I won't, until next time...

Philosophy(s) of Life. Read if you Care (or dare).

My philosophy of life often depends on my mood. However, I’ll try to cover the gambit of areas I venture into in this essay and hopefully my point will come across. That point being that I really have no point. In fact, the most optimistic verdict I can reach is that philosophy does not matter at all. One should just live their life not concerned with why’s, how’s, or what if’s. And that, in and of itself, is a philosophy. So, for lack of a better term, I’ve decided to call my philosophy “paradoxism.” With so many conflicts simultaneously occurring, many of them both true and yet seeming to erase the other, it seems as appropriate as anything.
The unfortunate foundation of my acts and way of looking at existence is a nifty little philosophy I thought up called “determinism.” Of course, given the way reality works and the natural manner of mankind, it had been thought up an untold number of times before my poor, tortured, adolescent mind had a “breakthrough.” Still, I thought of it on my own, and that is probably the reason I actually understand it. It’s extremely difficult to wrap one’s mind around on first glance, especially if you’re unwilling to believe it. To sum it up, determinism basically states that you are the culmination of genetics and all your experiences. That is the makeup of your consciousness. Looking past the self, the entire fabric of reality is interwoven, every tiny detail entwined with every other. In a sense it is quite similar to Transcendentalism. All life, indeed all of existence is connected. However, I don’t believe in some all encompassing Over-soul. No, the complex but set nature of reality merely serves to provide a mindset for the primary tenet of determinism: that free will does not exist. Like Puritan predestination, it essentially says that you have no control over your actions. The one difference between the two is that Puritanism requires a God and determinism does not. Every action of every second of time is the direct result of the second before it. Since the past cannot be altered, neither can the future. By the same logic that 2+2=4 every single time, an infinite number of realities with the same beginning will all have the exact same conclusion. The equation of reality, as unfortunate as it is to reduce existence to such base and unromantic terms, is just an equation, and after the variables (such as genetics, experiences, temperature, air pressure, the price of tea in China, etc.) have been filled out, you will always obtain the same result.
And this is the foundation of my philosophy. Not because I particularly enjoy it, but because I can conceive no alternative to it. There is no way, in my mind, that free will can exist. I cannot comprehend it. The absence of free will creates a very strange and very dangerous mindset. One could believe that every action they take is ultimately, when boiled down to essentials, not their fault, thus leaving them free to do and act any way they please. Fortunately, it is so difficult to comprehend that very few follow it, so the risk is minimal.
But determinism is also like a drug. When one makes a mistake or has a regret or commits an error, you use it for comfort. Determinism professes that it really isn’t your fault; it was meant to be. And indeed, I have used that line of reasoning. After so many times, just like any other drug, it takes its’ toll. I began to realize that existence really had no point. If everything is already mapped out, why try to accomplish or strive to succeed? What could the point of anything be? Why bother? This rather nihilist mindset is one I generally characterize as Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandius.” A sense of meaninglessness and fatality of all accomplishment and pursuit of any goal pervades determinism. Of course, that may be an incomplete interpretation, but the fact remains that determinism lends itself to fatality.
However this is in direct conflict of my tenets of morality. I suppose I share the nihilist’s view that morality is purely subjective. I take a fairly staunch anti-conformity (but not necessarily non-conformity) and anti-materialistic view on life, but whether that is because I truly believe them or I’m too lazy to want to deal with them, I’d rather not know. But for one who believes what I believe, I conform quite a bit to society’s definition of morality. I abhor dishonesty and deception. My basic instinct is to deny myself. I dislike the “carnal pleasures.” I take no pleasure from the pain of others. I don’t even curse. I dislike human contact, prevent myself from fulfilling love, and I generally don’t interfere with the rights of others. Thus I have a fairly Puritan mindset in this respect as well. My morality and denial of free will, in most respects, fall under Puritanism. The only exception is my belief in God.
This innately instilled morality, for whatever reason I possess it (probably a combination of my rearing, pride, and sense of instilled “decency”), lends itself towards a romantic view of life. To have morals, you have to respect life, yourself, reality, or something to merit restricting your actions or have a firm fear or respect for God. I was sorely lacking in the latter, so I developed an aspect of the former. Thus another side of my perpetual conflict was spawned, Romanticism. I generally characterize it as Edgar Allan Poe’s “Annabel Lee” because of the emphasis on life, love, and becoming so completely immersed in existence as to give it the utmost importance. This part of me fully embraces life, reveling in its’ triumphs and writhing in its’ defeats.
So again I am divided. This passionate, unhindered side of my psyche conflicts with the restrained and restricted Puritanical side as well as the nihilistic, fatalistic, determinist side. I assume conflicts of this nature are natural and probably the norm for most people. However, each provides a different take on what life is. It creates sort of an “Awakening” effect, when put together. When these three forces fully emerged, I began to feel trapped, as if every single route was futile and hopeless. No matter where I turned, one side of the conflict or another would retain enough of a restricting force to prevent me from achieving happiness or fulfillment. There was no right answer, but there were an infinite number of wrong answers. Just as Edna came to this conclusion of repression and fatalist inevitability of unhappiness, I did too, and I almost followed her course of action as well. Either way I turned concluded in death. Nihilist fatalism was pointless; one may as well end their life as soon as it is realized in the hope that something better and fantastic would emerge in the possible life after. Romanticism was too much, because putting so much emphasis on life naturally makes every defeat like a horrible deathblow. The stress becomes entirely too much to bear, making suicide again the only option. And Puritanism without God is just punishment for no reason. What is the point of restricting oneself if you are never rewarded for it?
So it would seem these three drastically conflicting philosophies all arrive at the same conclusion. In fact, determinism supports the notion because all the responsibility and guilt associated with death is gone. It was “meant to be.” Anyone who mourns it would be wasting their time, it’s a natural process and cannot be helped. So all signs pointed in one direction. But due to outside intervention, it was not to be fulfilled. Determinism said that it really didn’t matter anyway, so I may as well live. I would die eventually. And there I was.
That wasn’t enough, though. These conflicts cannot simply vanish. The reasons and rationale still existed. So I devised a better way of looking at life, a sort of compromise. Thinking in terms of the Big Bang theory (minus string theory), I think it is in my best interests to believe that existence is not linear, but a cycle. Indeed, probability would seem to dictate that we are not heading towards a final conclusion, but rather right back to where we “started”, so to speak. Time is a circle, not a straight line. Thus, it’s a good idea to make the best out of life because you’re going to have to continually do it over and over again. It certainly solves the problem of creation and an eventual ending. There is no beginning or ending to a circle, it simply “is.” Of course, there is the question of how did the circle become created, but by that time it becomes so complex it is surely out of the range of human comprehension and is irrelevant. And thus we have come full circle, so to speak, back to the conclusion of irrelevancy.
Yes, in order to continue on with existence in a somewhat acceptable frame of mind, I have to treat the entire business of philosophy as irrelevant. Whether or not these ideas or viewpoints are true (and for determinism, I see no way it could be false) does not matter. We should just live life and don’t worry about them. To entertain myself and occasionally boost my spirits, I sometimes put a sort of comical “God” figure into the mix as a sort of reality TV executive, minus the TV. I am merely a source of entertainment for God and God’s divine brethren. And judging by the presence of pain, suffering, and sorrow, it is probably his mission to make me unhappy. So I try to be happy just to spite him. Does it work? Maybe a little. Does rejecting all my conflicting philosophies help me function as a potentially happy, good individual? Hardly. I can’t even really reject them. They all rear their ugly heads in one way or another. Repressed, yes, but their influence is still felt. I still restrict my actions and behavior due to innate Puritan attitudes. In turn, stopping myself from hating and loving violates Romanticism, which then retaliates by throwing me into a typical teenage depression, but because it is Romantic, it has to be utter and miserable. Superficiality is not a luxury available to me in that respect. Then I turn to nihilist determinism to tell me none of existence really matters. But that is in some respects even more depressing and terrible. So I then profess only philosophy is irrelevant, and I go on living life to the best, and happiest, of my abilities. Then, when I prevent myself from taking risks, living, and loving, I look for the source and see Protestantism…
Thus I dance around the four in what appears a continual cycle. It results in a perpetual Civil War of my mind: so much is in common between the combatants, but some of the differences are simply too radical to coexist. Unlike the Civil War, though, if one side wins, the nation loses. There can be no permanent division, no sole triumph of one force. It’s the war or nothing at all. So the cycle continues.
Perhaps “cyclical paradoxism” would be a more apt term. Of course, it could simply be the confusion of a teenager. I could find another, better way of looking at life as I age and mature. But unless determinism is disproved, a significant improbability, the root of the problem remains. That new philosophy might just be added to the dysfunctional family of my mind, much like “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” with the same emotional ups, downs, and escapes. And the same helpless futility pervades. I place the Puritanical restrictions upon myself for no real reason. I stop myself from love. I am unable ignore philosophies that don’t matter. The only way I can hope to get through this is to aim for a goal, in my case teaching Math (a wonderful subject that poses no important uncertainties or questions that should not and cannot be answered), and revel in it. I just have to survive the years until I get there.
I often look at this strange war/dance and see how truly ridiculous it is. I move towards the irrelevancy of philosophy because there is no need to be miserable. There is no need for me to fool with all this nonsense. I should rise above it and move on. And I do. But then I lose sight of the entire jumble and one part or another creeps back into my consciousness from my subconscious and the entire cycle “starts” again.
First everything matters, then nothing matters, and finally only portions of that matter. Compromise is the only method of survival on a battleground where no peace can be accorded. Restrictions abound on a backdrop of irrelevancy and passion that makes those restrictions destructive and futile. My only recourse is to escape into reality. Yes, I think “paradoxism” fits just fine.

The Un-Backed Up Backup

*Sigh.* My life is so hard. My sister is using the optimal PC for "homework" while I'm forced to our less than superb other machine. Poor me...

But, on the bright side, one and a half days of school to go! Of course, I'll spend a bit of time on my resume and philosophy of life tomorrow and Wednesday, but I whine about it so much here many of you could probably write it for me! In fact, since I've absolutely nothing better to do, why don't you get on that. (I'm kidding, of course. Even I can't properly explain determinism.) But tomorrow we've got the tent revival in English. Oh joy. You've read my views on it already, but hopefully you'll gain some enjoyment rather than disgust from it. Unlike me...

And there's also the Chemistry sketches. Those should be fun. Hopefully. I'll probably mess them up too, but I won't ever know about it, so I can only hope you'll laugh. Really, it's the only way I know I'm doing something right. But that, hope, and dice are subjects for later entries (of which I'll probably do plenty, since I'll be bored to tears this summer without my precious computer games). So for now I'm reduced to...well...nothing. My good computer's taken, so most of my avenues of entertainment are gone. It seems like I need something to do and waste time on. Something that I've known I should try, but that I've been too afraid of. It would be hard and painful, but surely the joy would be worth the risk. Oh that's foolish talk. I've been off video games for so long. Ah well, we'll see how bad things get. But you won't know about that til next time.

Ask Not What Your Preacher can do for You...

Eh. Eh I say! So graduation's coming up and all the seniors are leaving. Even yesterday afternoon seemed empty right after school with them all gone in their grown-up shenanigans. But that's the way these things happen. After graduation, I'll probably never see most of them again, and the ones I do, I'll see them maybe once or twice. They're just gone, lost on the winds of time. It's almost a shame. But comings and goings are they way of our fleeting existences. People come into your life, stay awhile, and leave. What you do with them while they're there is what's important, and I feel like I haven't done enough. But that's the price of bumitude, and it's a steep one.

Speaking of doing things with others, last night was our grand tent revival. I was very impressed with Ellen, Rachel, and Morgan and their commitment and ability. But I was disgusted with mine. Not only did not have my lines memorized (believe it or not, I did sort of have them down, but I didn't want to risk forgetting in the middle of my tirade so I kept the script with me), but I did horribly! I mispronounced words (it sounds like a stupid JFK impersonation, emphasis on stupid), gave a lackluster performance, not to mention I looked downright goofy. Although I think a lot of that is nothing new. It's very hard and shocking, seeing oneself for what you really are. Hearing what your voice actually sounds like. When I see myself, and my big teeth and huge...Adams Apple is it?...and just my rather goofy demeanor and dorkish voice it disturbs me. I don't like being superficial, but it's hard not to. They're hard things to change. Ah well. At least I didn't have a panic attack.

And last, but certainly not least, I'm launching my fifth blog! Yes, www.abnerdoubleday.blogspot.com is now in commission. In it I plan on writing what I did not do today, humorous, zany, or not. Any of you are welcome to join in too, but only one sentence per day. No time or frequency requirements though, and everyone at any time is welcome. Just email me. Check it out, it should be fun.

The Changing of the Guard

I’ve seen the castle everyday for the past few years.
I’ve seen it draped it revelry, I’ve seen it flood with tears.
I’ve seen the guards fight battles, protecting us from harm.
I’ve seen them guide in diplomats, employing tact and charm.
I’ve seen them stand there stoically, watching the days drive past.
I’ve seen them all these days for years, and I’ve known it could not last.

I hear the colonel shout the order for the guards to march away.
I hear them leave their battlements, for here they cannot stay.
I hear them yell “Goodbye” and “Thanks” to we they leave behind.
I hear the sadness in their voice, the longing in their mind.
I hear the hope and fear they have, of futures quite unsure.
I hear the doubts and regrets clear; for all there is no cure.

I feel them pass beyond the gates into the great unknown.
I feel the emptiness abound, the banners no more flown.
I feel the calm and eerie peace of a city lacking kings.
I feel the absence of so many familiar things.
I feel as if there is so much that I now should do.
I feel the pressing burden of these obligations new.

I should have asked them more advice, I should have spent more time!
I should have paid attention to them in their majestic prime.
I should have helped, I should have cared, I should have been their friend!
I should have realized that our times together soon would end.
I should have appreciated them, but they’re all now gone.
I should have prepared for my ascent to knight from just a pawn.

I take their spots upon the wall, and stand where titans stood.
I take up discarded armor and would cheer if but I could.
I take their burdens, take their honors, and at last I take their flag.
I take the time to raise up ours to replace the tattered rag.
I take their posts where now I stand and see what I can see.
I take a look upon these kids who one day shall replace me.

The Frost Hangs Thick

It's the time of graduations and many minds turn to Frost. Frost seems to be a popular theme at graduations, largely due to his poem that I ...adjusted... below. I'm sure you've read it and seen the contradictions that people pull from it to enhance their speeches. As you may notice, it seems as if the roads not taken are more focused upon in the poem than the speeches. And that seems to be the problem with many people, myself included. Instead of thinking ahead, of ways to make your walk, or run heaven forbid, of life more interesting, we think of the paths we don't take. Those forbidden treks into lands we dare not let ourselves enjoy for fear they would corrupt us into happiness. Only in daydreams and fantasies are these unrealities truly possible. And feasibility is suprisingly not the culprit. It's the walkers who choose their ways that are to blame (of course, I use the word "choose" loosely).

But such is the way of imagination. If's, but's, could's plague one's mind. Eh, you'll have to wait until next time...

The Road Not Given

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And both the roads looked equally good.
But I sat on the fork instead
And thought the matter in my head:

Either way could end quite well.
Either way could end in Hell.
Each I knew was bright and fair
For every choice would lead elsewhere.

But I could not choose, I wanted all;
Could not decide, make either call.
Yet one that was perhaps the best
Gleamed and called more than the rest.

And finally it released a shout!
For its' resolve had given out.
The path dissolved, the way closed in,
And I was left one path again.

The Frost hung thick on brittle pine
While trees closed in on down the line.
I did not choose, the path chose me
Due to inability.

Ages pass and still I dream
For that path I closed did seem
To be the one I ought to take.
But so do all I do not make.

Follow Up.

The die remains and shall always remain. Only Fate and irrationalities know what it landed. For it did not land at all, but remained unknown, and therefore known to all. But me.

Change? I've only got Bills!

Well, actually, I've plenty of change. Today kicked it off with the end of AP tests for a year. A whole year! Yes indeedydooariffic! But that's not all, oh no. Call now and you'll receive my special introductory offer of me with a haircut! You heard right. I got my hairs trimmed and my face looks so empty without full sideburns. But they'll grow back, they always do. I don't really know if I like them or not, but I figure it's easier to let em grow than cut them all the time. Go figure. Plus I've stopped that bizarre sequence of "fillers" up to this point which even I am not quite sure what I was doing. Use your imaginations, it's not much of a stretch.

So that's the changes up to this point. I'm also going to try to stop reacting so...aversly to human contact. Now this doesn't mean I'll walk up to you, pat you on the back, and give you a grand bear hug that not only knocks your air out, but also knocks your sense, knowledge of self, and hopefully at least $5 from your wallet. And you mocked my velcro... But yes, I'll try not to run away or scream in terror. Except from Catherine, but that's only because it's good to have light-hearted enemies.

Next on the docket is to breach the subject of a board/card game club. I figure I'll throw it out to Petko, see what he thinks, then move on to Mr. Combs, then perhaps Mr. Ledgerwood, then I'll see if Ms. Bast has any thoughts. Hopefully I won't have to go down that chain, but we'll see. It's that or a girlfriend, and I won't cross that bridge til someone pushes me of..er...up to it. I'm sort of a waiter than a doer. You know how it is.

But anyway, I think a board/card game excursion would be a welcome diversion. I played today in Chemistry and I thought it was pretty enjoyable. Spades is a great game for drama with no stakes, few complications, but still pretty exciting. But we can do all sorts of things. And you will come. You know you want to. Just gotta find a teacher...

So that's all I've got planned. Someone's welcome to toss me off a cliff or stab me in the elbow with a pike (weapon or fish) to liven things up. Can't be much worse than these last few classes. But those are for another day. And with that, I bid you til next time.

Conclusion.

The die remains uncast. Nothing ventured nothing.

Significance.

Conflicts of interest: Heart v. Mind.

Reason.

A river ran through it.

Evidence.

I dared to hope, you misunderstood.

Hypothesis.

We were both mistaken.

Question.

Isn't it obvious?

Tired of Being Tired

I am tired. T-I-R-E-D. TIRED. I'm tired of entirely too many things. Tired of...everything. I've no energy. No motivation. No driving force other than spite, which occasionally helps but right now just makes me TIRED. Nothing to look towards, soon anyway. Nothing to do, yet so much to do. I'm tired. Tired of taking stupid risks for nothing and failing. Tired of not taking risks. Tired of slogging along for nothing. Tired of being tired. I need something to pick me up. Anyone got a crane? Maybe some dynamite? I certainly won't find out til next time...

TIRED!

Caught in the Crossfire

Well, it finally happened. I thought I could hold out infinitely, that I was fast enough, strong enough, smart to avoid the inevitable. I fooled myself into thinking it was behind me, a part of my past gone for good. The improvements I'd made, the adjustments, the daily methods all culminating in the banishment of this unfortunate aspect of Fate. But I was wrong. The thought had begun to occur to me earlier this week that I was perhaps not as invincible as I had deluded myself into thinking. It was only a matter of time until I fell again. And so it was written, so it was done. I am man, after all. So yes, you're quite right. I, The Grand Duke Dyl of Quence, now has... I don't think I can say it *sniff*...

A cold.

Yes! A BLASTED, WRETCHED, OH SO icky cold. I thought, perhaps, that I could go on forever now that I was eating a bit more, taking vitamins, thinking semi-positive thoughts! But no! No, I've been assaulted by my perenial enemy, the common cold. Generally two or three times a year it rears its ugly head, sometimes for hours, sometimes for days, sometimes for more than a week. But it comes around eventually. It always does. Thus I'm forced to blow my nose every 5-10minutes and suffer this infernal congestion for however long God has in store.

And the timing, the oh so coincidental timing, is remarkable. Why, I do believe it is AP test time! Not only that, but I get some high-quality, primo, mouth-watering oppurtunities to leave the house and all I get is congestion and miserable. Oh, it could be worse, sure. But it's just not pleasant! I can't go places or do things because every 5minutes I've got to blow my blasted nose. How this will effect the AP tests, I don't know. Hopefully I never will, as it has been known that these things last a mere day or three and fade away into oblivion. And it's also been known to plague me for two weeks. Joy of joys. Not to mention I have to tell everyone I can't go anywhere or do anything, just preventing me from making interesting expeditions away from home into the great unknown we call life. Makes me want sneeze. Oh wait, THAT'S MY COLD!!

I can't work under these conditions... Eh, variables. The worst thing is when they lurk in the shadows, biding their time to attack when you're most vulnerable or least need the addition. What can you do? Perk up and move on! Nice try, God, but you'll have to do a bit better than this! (Other of my ails consist of a nasty face blotch right next to my lip, entirely too much armpit hair, too much hair on my head in general, AP tests, 100pages to read tomorrow, and I burned my fingers making cookies so now I've too gnarly heat blisters on my fingers. And all that emotional stress that comes with being a...uh...human. Just in case you're keeping score). You've won a few battles, but I'm still ahead! This is my house! Well, yours too. But...uh...how do you smack talk the uncomprehensible? You see my dilemma. But I'm off to blow my nose, read some more, and plot. What am I plotting? I dunno. Neither will you, until next time...