-Saturday July 4, 2074
John Stephenson, AP Columnist
A cold wind blew over the gathering. As the coffin was lowered, tears filled eyes of even the most stoic among us. It was over. He was over. The crazy dream turned reality that had been a career no one, except perhaps Mr. Meggs himself, believed was possible, had finally ended. The priest said a simple, quaint eulogy and the final page turned. With a sigh, I returned home to my apartment, introspectively questioning what all this vast mystery of life was really about. I couldn't help but turn back, and with a touch of sadness, I released one last "Hooey."
Or not. That would have been all too poetically just, but as romantic as that sounds if there's one thing that man taught me, it's that humor is the only thing that should be constant in one's life. No, Meggs having an ordinary funeral would be about as appropriate as him being a novelist, politician, comedian, or even Nobel Prize winning trash collector. Although from the looks of it, each one of those and more was present at what can best be described as a "Finally a Vacation!" party. Revolutionary? Hardly. Appropriate? You bet your shiny metal britches!
D- Meggs grew up the impoverished son of a textile worker in Southern Alabama who was forced to teach himself during his youth so he wouldn't suffer from the “inadequacy” that was the Alabaman school system. Although he failed third grade thrice, he lucky in the fact that his teacher decided he was advanced enough to proceed to the public high school. While there, he enjoyed an illustrious career of breaking hearts, skulls, and records for an astonishing amount of sexual deviancy. Although he barely passed all of his math classes, he decided to pursue the subject because it was an area in which he didn't fear change. As he said, "If 2+2 starts equaling 5, then I'll still be right half the time." He graduated last in his class from a local college, moved to Knoxville because of a blood debt and what appeared to be an illegal child with his Puerto Rican man slave who had family in Nashville, and pursued an illustrious career of destroying the hope, dreams, and optimism of all students that faced his unmerciful wrath. At least, that's how he told it.
In fact, Meggs was fairly normal. He lived a standard, fairly uneventful youth. He possessed an above average intelligence, did quite well in school, proved charismatic in a disturbing, unorthodox way, and saw a number of pathways to a variety of futures open up before him. But being the unconventional bum he was, he settled for teaching high school, and speaking from experience, the world is a much better place for it.
As we stood listening to the comic (one of Meggs's former students), I couldn't help but remember the jokes the man himself had told. It was like an obsession. He had a dark, warped since of humor that would have been intimidating in a lesser man and undistinguished in a greater one. Some of the things he said were certainly grounds for lawsuits, but when you’d inspired the greatest lawyer Knoxville had seen in years to stop “Snorting coke and start blowing smoke” it was hard to get convicted of the numerous crimes he willfully admitted committing. He may not have been the best math whiz ever, but the man was indubitably entertaining.
After the comic, various former students, ranging from his first year in 2010 to his last from just last May, read their favorite quotes, snippets from his novels, and “math problems” in a session that proved touching, insightful, and downright hilarious. He’d never published any of them despite a great deal of encouragement, but the word was that he had left permission for his students to do “Whatever the Hell, Heaven, or Nirvana they pleased” with his “scribbles, doodlings, and obscene grotesqueries”, and a compilation was planned to be released on the first day of school in August. The school had already promised to make a “D- Meggs Memorial Bathroom” where his quotes will be strewn all over the walls where he often wrote them himself, in his spare time. He claimed to have his greatest inspirations in the bathroom, and his handwriting had become a permanent feature of every trip to the urinal.
Then came the dancing. Meggs never claimed to be a very graceful dancer, and he had given himself plenty of opportunities to prove himself right. The band played staples of his classroom that ranged from the 1700s all the way to a neo-neo-romantic classical piece one of his own students had composed last year. As many of us are getting on in years, we weren’t able to imitate our youthful experiences. But needless to say, we made up for our lack of motion with many very fond memories.
Finally we adjourned to the auditorium where the grand finale took place: Meggs’s last work, a brief summation of his entire life learnings and experiences, was read for the first time. It was really his suicide note, but none of us could dare call it that. He’d convinced so many of us against the idea that we knew his own death had been more of an “appropriate ending” than any of the selfish, futile plots of our days. In typical Meggs style, it proved amusing, sporadic, and optimistic (in a characteristically pessimistic way). There were truly tears in every eye, but not from sadness. No, these were of hope, joy, and nostalgia.
He spoke fondly of his “thankfully over past.” He described a few of us specifically in less than flattering manners, but we could picture the playful irreverent gleam in his eye as he had written it. He spoke of his expectations for us all. He encouraged us, as he always had, to just be happy, as he was so lucky to have been all his life, even at the moment he had killed himself.
As he seemingly spoke to us from the grave, I zoned out, as I had done so often in his math class those many years and ago, and thought of how much he had affected me. He had truly cared in an unobtrusive way that made him quite easy to get close to. As open a person as I’ve met, he brought himself down to our level and made himself more of an educated peer than an authority figure. I had hated math until his class, and even after it I still dreaded each period. But I learned not to worry so much about it. I learned that stress and lofty aspirations are not synonymous. Mr. Meggs taught me that I really, truly could do what I wanted. He just reminded me I’d have to pay the price, unlike other blind optimists. He encouraged us just to be happy, whatever that might involve (within reason). He was the first person to take an interest in my writing, the first to critique and actually try to interpret it, and the first to tell me never to stop. I followed his advice, and I’m happy to this very day. I think he’d be the most proud of me for that.
In all of his 64 years of teaching, D- Meggs inspired thousands. He listened. He cared. And, perhaps best of all, he entertained. To Mr. Meggs from all of his students, thank you. Mission Accomplished.
Sunday, October 31
Hope
It's my hope the above will come true. Certainly it won't in scale or quality, but if I can achieve even part of that, it will be a wondrous accomplishment.
Thinking about my own inevitable end is at once sad, intriguing, and beautiful. It's odd, how most everything truly beautiful is sad. Songs, movies, books; the best are generally poignant and touching. If I only had the ability... Ah well. So I wrote this because I was inspired by a line in another blog and by recent events that dealt with death and the future. I want to be that ideal. I want to have that death. Hopefully I'll try to accomplish it.
Over the past few days I've been reminded how much I enjoy helping people. I mean, helping them work out who and what they want to be. It'd be wonderful if I actually succeeded, but I'm just not experienced enough. Philosophy? I've got that. Optimism? I've got the best type. But I just can't answer every question. And when I can't, the disappointment's terrible. I'm still glad to listen and speak any advice I may or may not have. It's almost enough to make me switch my goal to psychiatry, but I don't think it's active enough for me. The money, the schooling, the contained nature... It just wouldn't work.
So I'm still back aiming for that goal. It does sound nice, doesn't it? If, in the end, all that's named for me is a High School Bathroom I think I'll have done pretty well. It's not about a material legacy. It's about affecting people for the better. It's about inspiring them to be what you decided not to be. It's about creating a ripple effect of happiness. I can only hope it will happen to me.
Thinking about my own inevitable end is at once sad, intriguing, and beautiful. It's odd, how most everything truly beautiful is sad. Songs, movies, books; the best are generally poignant and touching. If I only had the ability... Ah well. So I wrote this because I was inspired by a line in another blog and by recent events that dealt with death and the future. I want to be that ideal. I want to have that death. Hopefully I'll try to accomplish it.
Over the past few days I've been reminded how much I enjoy helping people. I mean, helping them work out who and what they want to be. It'd be wonderful if I actually succeeded, but I'm just not experienced enough. Philosophy? I've got that. Optimism? I've got the best type. But I just can't answer every question. And when I can't, the disappointment's terrible. I'm still glad to listen and speak any advice I may or may not have. It's almost enough to make me switch my goal to psychiatry, but I don't think it's active enough for me. The money, the schooling, the contained nature... It just wouldn't work.
So I'm still back aiming for that goal. It does sound nice, doesn't it? If, in the end, all that's named for me is a High School Bathroom I think I'll have done pretty well. It's not about a material legacy. It's about affecting people for the better. It's about inspiring them to be what you decided not to be. It's about creating a ripple effect of happiness. I can only hope it will happen to me.
Friday, October 29
Filling in the Blanks
Bleh, deleted my last entry by somehow highlighting the entire thing and hitting a letter key. Oh joy. Anyway, to sum up... I'm not going to fill in the blanks. Misleading, no? But some things to keep in mind:
1. Don't listen to the advice of the miserable. For instance, existentialism may be closer to "right" than anything we know, but if that's right I'd encourage you to be wrong anyday.
2. I've preached the "anti-gossip" sermon before, but I just thought I'd remind you. It's easier if you just don't worry about other people unless they need to be worried about.
3. Communicate what you mean. Please. Be as direct as possible. Don't hide things. Don't wait for people to pick up on them. Speak! Make sure people understand exactly what you mean. It's why I use smileys, to further express myself. To get closer to the true feeling. Sure they're really annoying, but they serve a purpose. So for crying out loud, talk!
4. As always, be happy, do happy, make happy.
1. Don't listen to the advice of the miserable. For instance, existentialism may be closer to "right" than anything we know, but if that's right I'd encourage you to be wrong anyday.
2. I've preached the "anti-gossip" sermon before, but I just thought I'd remind you. It's easier if you just don't worry about other people unless they need to be worried about.
3. Communicate what you mean. Please. Be as direct as possible. Don't hide things. Don't wait for people to pick up on them. Speak! Make sure people understand exactly what you mean. It's why I use smileys, to further express myself. To get closer to the true feeling. Sure they're really annoying, but they serve a purpose. So for crying out loud, talk!
4. As always, be happy, do happy, make happy.
Thursday, October 28
Recycling Makes Cents (2 down...)
(Prompt: Choose arts and literature, business and politics, or science and technology and discuss its value to society and a one of its specific problems. Given unlimited manpower and funds for 10 years, how would you maximize its benefit to society?)
Something that always amazes me is the mass of individual bubbles we surround ourselves with. We think in such localized terms with little thought given to the future of humanity. It’s simply a fact of the human experience. Thus, when issues such as environmental awareness come up, most people give it the typical lip service associated with such acts of goodwill. “That’s a wonderful idea, I completely agree. I’m just so busy, I can’t find time to recycle. Sorting the materials, finding a location to deposit them, driving home, it all takes so much time! I wish you the best of luck though, keep on doing good work.” Then they drive away in their football field-sized SUV, on their way to buy a few bags of Styrofoam peanuts to dump into a nearby polluted stream in order to “watch the fish get tricked into eating fake bread.” Ridiculous hyperbole, I know, but the point is made. If most people, myself included, aren’t given an economic reason to protect the environment they’re just not going to start anytime soon.
Now, you may be thinking at this moment, “this guy’s a crazy liberal who’s out to insert an agenda and a completely irrelevant topic into a essay just so he’ll have an easy time thinking up a problem.” While I won’t disagree with the “crazy liberal’ part, I think this issue has an incredible amount of relevance to business and politics. Business and politics are the vessels our society uses to live and evolve. Political movements raise awareness and slowly shape the way we think. Business provides the occupations and products to keep society working. Arts and literature are forms of expression and pastimes that are often overlooked by the average person. Science and technology are accepted without question: if it works and makes me happy, I don’t care how or why. They have little relevance to the individual. Relatively few people think of the arts, literature, science and technology; everyone thinks of business and politics. And that is precisely why it is absolutely necessary to integrate environmental awareness into the public eye and create business incentives to participate.
Wait a minute. There are already environmental incentives for businesses. And a politician can’t get elected unless he at least mentions his adoration for the outdoors and perhaps a clandestine midnight affair embracing some mighty elm that played a pivotal role in his arduous childhood. But those factors are too broad and arbitrary to apply to John Q. Public. What we need is a policy that affects each and every person.
What a coincidence! It seems I’ve unlimited funds and resources to accomplish such a lofty goal. Initially I thought that with such resources anything short of an absolute utopia would be a failure of vision and creativity on my part. But if there’s one thing economics has taught me, it’s that money and men only make the situation proportionally more complex as the amount involved increases. Thus, with unlimited funds and manpower, I ought to establish an unlimited amount of economical chaos. As appealing as that may sound, I’ll have to contain myself to a more realistic approach (which, relatively speaking, isn’t saying much).
Now, I’ve admitted I’m a liberal. The enormous burden of responsibility placed upon me by that almost masochistic ideology is enough to inspire me to conserve gas and recycle as much as I can. But liberal guilt trips don’t faze the average person. That extra thirty minutes a week that such a colossal endeavor as recycling requires are thirty minutes of quality reality TV lost forever, never to be regained. Oxymoron aside, people have other priorities, making money generally foremost among them. So the logical conclusion is to combine the two.
My idea would be to provide more incentives for businesses to use recycled materials and for individuals to provide them. In time, with future advances in technology, it might become a self-sufficient relationship. At the moment, though, I’m not leaving the matter at the whim of the Magical Invisible Hand of Market. What needs to be done is for overt, obvious recycling areas to be available practically everywhere. I don’t mean hidden in some dark labyrinth of back alleys behind the neighborhood mega-grocery store like mine. They need to be glaringly obvious. Perhaps there can be gigantic patriotic monuments made out of recycled materials indicating every available area. Or maybe they’ll just be neon pink. At any rate, they’ll be noticeable to everyone.
All good business ventures need high quality advertising. Although “Don’t Throw Down on K-Town” is lovely little motto, billboards just don’t have the mind numbing flair that TV commercials do. Of course, these commercials will not be paltry local efforts written and directed by Mr. Fleisman’s 6th grade Science Class. No, these will have action, adventure, romance, and possibly even pirates (they certainly beat the “hippie” mascot). Picture an epic pirate siege onto a garbage barge searching for buried treasure in the form of cans, bottles, and cardboard. After their victorious foray they redeem their booty for doubloons, toaster ovens, and all the vodka they want, demonstrating what one misses by not recycling. Obviously this is for the Monday Night Football Crowd; a variety of other alternatives will be available for other demographics.
So the people are hooked. Here’s where the incentives comes in. In the days of yore, I believe people were often paid for bringing their materials to local recycling establishments. Perhaps that service is still offered in some magical distant land, but here in the Ville of Knox, I know of no such facility. This is probably because I haven’t looked (once again enforcing the purpose of the advertising). But even if I did look, I’m sure I’d find some Mom and Pop shop that barely pays for the gas money. No, I’m talking big incentives. Not quite enough to encourage people to drink soda just for the privilege of getting can money, but so close you can taste it. This will be sold very cheaply to businesses who ought to jump at the opportunity to save money (call it a hunch). Since I’ve only got the next ten years, the price will gradually be increased until it becomes self-sufficient: the businesses pay the individuals for the materials. As mentioned above, by that time it’s hoped technology will be in place that makes this possible. In time, even more materials can hopefully be recycled. If it worked for Seinfeld, why not Styrofoam, complete automobiles, and, dare I say it, junk mail (plastic wrappers and all).
There’s my plan. What has it accomplished? It’s provided extra income for individuals. It’s provided cheap resources for businesses. It’s helped the environment. It’s entertained people. And, perhaps most importantly, it’s helped pirate PR everywhere. I’d call that a success any way you look at it.
Something that always amazes me is the mass of individual bubbles we surround ourselves with. We think in such localized terms with little thought given to the future of humanity. It’s simply a fact of the human experience. Thus, when issues such as environmental awareness come up, most people give it the typical lip service associated with such acts of goodwill. “That’s a wonderful idea, I completely agree. I’m just so busy, I can’t find time to recycle. Sorting the materials, finding a location to deposit them, driving home, it all takes so much time! I wish you the best of luck though, keep on doing good work.” Then they drive away in their football field-sized SUV, on their way to buy a few bags of Styrofoam peanuts to dump into a nearby polluted stream in order to “watch the fish get tricked into eating fake bread.” Ridiculous hyperbole, I know, but the point is made. If most people, myself included, aren’t given an economic reason to protect the environment they’re just not going to start anytime soon.
Now, you may be thinking at this moment, “this guy’s a crazy liberal who’s out to insert an agenda and a completely irrelevant topic into a essay just so he’ll have an easy time thinking up a problem.” While I won’t disagree with the “crazy liberal’ part, I think this issue has an incredible amount of relevance to business and politics. Business and politics are the vessels our society uses to live and evolve. Political movements raise awareness and slowly shape the way we think. Business provides the occupations and products to keep society working. Arts and literature are forms of expression and pastimes that are often overlooked by the average person. Science and technology are accepted without question: if it works and makes me happy, I don’t care how or why. They have little relevance to the individual. Relatively few people think of the arts, literature, science and technology; everyone thinks of business and politics. And that is precisely why it is absolutely necessary to integrate environmental awareness into the public eye and create business incentives to participate.
Wait a minute. There are already environmental incentives for businesses. And a politician can’t get elected unless he at least mentions his adoration for the outdoors and perhaps a clandestine midnight affair embracing some mighty elm that played a pivotal role in his arduous childhood. But those factors are too broad and arbitrary to apply to John Q. Public. What we need is a policy that affects each and every person.
What a coincidence! It seems I’ve unlimited funds and resources to accomplish such a lofty goal. Initially I thought that with such resources anything short of an absolute utopia would be a failure of vision and creativity on my part. But if there’s one thing economics has taught me, it’s that money and men only make the situation proportionally more complex as the amount involved increases. Thus, with unlimited funds and manpower, I ought to establish an unlimited amount of economical chaos. As appealing as that may sound, I’ll have to contain myself to a more realistic approach (which, relatively speaking, isn’t saying much).
Now, I’ve admitted I’m a liberal. The enormous burden of responsibility placed upon me by that almost masochistic ideology is enough to inspire me to conserve gas and recycle as much as I can. But liberal guilt trips don’t faze the average person. That extra thirty minutes a week that such a colossal endeavor as recycling requires are thirty minutes of quality reality TV lost forever, never to be regained. Oxymoron aside, people have other priorities, making money generally foremost among them. So the logical conclusion is to combine the two.
My idea would be to provide more incentives for businesses to use recycled materials and for individuals to provide them. In time, with future advances in technology, it might become a self-sufficient relationship. At the moment, though, I’m not leaving the matter at the whim of the Magical Invisible Hand of Market. What needs to be done is for overt, obvious recycling areas to be available practically everywhere. I don’t mean hidden in some dark labyrinth of back alleys behind the neighborhood mega-grocery store like mine. They need to be glaringly obvious. Perhaps there can be gigantic patriotic monuments made out of recycled materials indicating every available area. Or maybe they’ll just be neon pink. At any rate, they’ll be noticeable to everyone.
All good business ventures need high quality advertising. Although “Don’t Throw Down on K-Town” is lovely little motto, billboards just don’t have the mind numbing flair that TV commercials do. Of course, these commercials will not be paltry local efforts written and directed by Mr. Fleisman’s 6th grade Science Class. No, these will have action, adventure, romance, and possibly even pirates (they certainly beat the “hippie” mascot). Picture an epic pirate siege onto a garbage barge searching for buried treasure in the form of cans, bottles, and cardboard. After their victorious foray they redeem their booty for doubloons, toaster ovens, and all the vodka they want, demonstrating what one misses by not recycling. Obviously this is for the Monday Night Football Crowd; a variety of other alternatives will be available for other demographics.
So the people are hooked. Here’s where the incentives comes in. In the days of yore, I believe people were often paid for bringing their materials to local recycling establishments. Perhaps that service is still offered in some magical distant land, but here in the Ville of Knox, I know of no such facility. This is probably because I haven’t looked (once again enforcing the purpose of the advertising). But even if I did look, I’m sure I’d find some Mom and Pop shop that barely pays for the gas money. No, I’m talking big incentives. Not quite enough to encourage people to drink soda just for the privilege of getting can money, but so close you can taste it. This will be sold very cheaply to businesses who ought to jump at the opportunity to save money (call it a hunch). Since I’ve only got the next ten years, the price will gradually be increased until it becomes self-sufficient: the businesses pay the individuals for the materials. As mentioned above, by that time it’s hoped technology will be in place that makes this possible. In time, even more materials can hopefully be recycled. If it worked for Seinfeld, why not Styrofoam, complete automobiles, and, dare I say it, junk mail (plastic wrappers and all).
There’s my plan. What has it accomplished? It’s provided extra income for individuals. It’s provided cheap resources for businesses. It’s helped the environment. It’s entertained people. And, perhaps most importantly, it’s helped pirate PR everywhere. I’d call that a success any way you look at it.
Quick Note
Tonight is for college essays. Tomorrow is for clearing things up. Until then Be happy, do happy, make happy. Please?
Wwhhaaa? Leadership For Me? Never! (For UT)
For most of my years at West High School, I was content to have a very passive role in school activities. I was in Marching Band, I joined Mu Alpha Thaeda (which I became President of this year), and I participated in National Honors Society. But for the most part, I came home everyday after school and moped at home, aimless, for hours. Even though the lack of obligations was nice, it became quite boring, quite fast. I wanted something more. I wanted some after-school activity that I could look forward to every week. I wanted something fun.
The task proved quite daunting. Like all high schools, West has numerous clubs. However, none seemed to really fit me. The Student Council seemed to have as much to do with leadership as politics has to do with morality. Singing songs and organizing dances I’d never go to wouldn’t do. The Academic Team seemed my sort of “sport’, but it sounded too much like a trivia contest with emphasis on reflexes, entirely too stressful and arduous than what I wanted. There were many others, such as FCA and DECA, but none suited my objectives. So I took matters into my own hands and decided to start my own club after a favorite pastime of mine: Board and Card gaming.
My dream was a laidback, stress-free club where the main motivation would certainly not be a college resume (the irony of me writing this paper on the experience is duly noted). The sole purpose would be enjoyment. A revolutionary concept, I know, but it was exactly what I wanted. My friends responded quite favorably, so I next set my sights on a sponsor. I talked to one of my favorite teachers, Mr. Petko, and he was quite enthusiastic about the idea. His words were something like, “I think one of the best things about West is that is has something for everyone.” Even those of "slightly unconventional tastes" like me.
Now all I needed was a witty advertising campaign to get out the good word! All products need a name, so I spent a surprising amount of time trying to find something that fit. I sought many opinions with results ranging from the “Gaming Club” to “Bored Gaming”, but as we neither shot pheasants nor slept through the entire thing, neither were apt. Then, one of my friends had an epiphany: The Cardboard Club. It was genius! And, like all genius, I soon corrupted it into a horrible pun, as evidenced by my first poster idea: Red title reading “Communism got you down?” Insert Picture of sad stick figure and Communist flag. “Try Laissez Faire!” Insert that staple of American ideology and leisure, The Uncle Pennybags Monopoly Logo. Then, at the bottom, “Are you Cardboard material?” Painful, and iconoclastic, I know, but that was the sort of odd, witty, entertaining thing I wanted to create.
The club went, and has gone, remarkably well. There isn’t a large member base, but the people who do come are quite dedicated. We have a great time working on our social skills, learning to function as a team, and facing disappointment. But mostly we just have fun. Founding and leading the Cardboard Club is definitely my best experience at West. It’s practically my legacy, and I hope it will remain at West for years to come.
The task proved quite daunting. Like all high schools, West has numerous clubs. However, none seemed to really fit me. The Student Council seemed to have as much to do with leadership as politics has to do with morality. Singing songs and organizing dances I’d never go to wouldn’t do. The Academic Team seemed my sort of “sport’, but it sounded too much like a trivia contest with emphasis on reflexes, entirely too stressful and arduous than what I wanted. There were many others, such as FCA and DECA, but none suited my objectives. So I took matters into my own hands and decided to start my own club after a favorite pastime of mine: Board and Card gaming.
My dream was a laidback, stress-free club where the main motivation would certainly not be a college resume (the irony of me writing this paper on the experience is duly noted). The sole purpose would be enjoyment. A revolutionary concept, I know, but it was exactly what I wanted. My friends responded quite favorably, so I next set my sights on a sponsor. I talked to one of my favorite teachers, Mr. Petko, and he was quite enthusiastic about the idea. His words were something like, “I think one of the best things about West is that is has something for everyone.” Even those of "slightly unconventional tastes" like me.
Now all I needed was a witty advertising campaign to get out the good word! All products need a name, so I spent a surprising amount of time trying to find something that fit. I sought many opinions with results ranging from the “Gaming Club” to “Bored Gaming”, but as we neither shot pheasants nor slept through the entire thing, neither were apt. Then, one of my friends had an epiphany: The Cardboard Club. It was genius! And, like all genius, I soon corrupted it into a horrible pun, as evidenced by my first poster idea: Red title reading “Communism got you down?” Insert Picture of sad stick figure and Communist flag. “Try Laissez Faire!” Insert that staple of American ideology and leisure, The Uncle Pennybags Monopoly Logo. Then, at the bottom, “Are you Cardboard material?” Painful, and iconoclastic, I know, but that was the sort of odd, witty, entertaining thing I wanted to create.
The club went, and has gone, remarkably well. There isn’t a large member base, but the people who do come are quite dedicated. We have a great time working on our social skills, learning to function as a team, and facing disappointment. But mostly we just have fun. Founding and leading the Cardboard Club is definitely my best experience at West. It’s practically my legacy, and I hope it will remain at West for years to come.
Wednesday, October 27
I HATE CONFRONTATIONS
I HATE THEM. I HATE THEM ALMOST ENOUGH TO DROP THE BLASTED F-BOMB. I'M INCREDIBLY TEMPTED. I HATE THEM. HATE THEM HATE THEM HATE THEM.
And the worst part is when they go awry, when someone is inconvenienced, when everyone is not happy because of something that results from them, I get so incredibly conflicted my mind immediately resorts to suicide. I just want the conflict to stop through any method necessary. I want it to end and never, ever, ever occur again. Even for the most trivial affairs. Confrontations drive me absolutely crazy. When others are inconvenienced, annoyed, hurt, inflamed whatever because of something that transpired by me needing something... RAWR!
In case you didn't notice, the stress is turning up. College essays need to be done SOON. And I've got that blasted Shakespeare project to hang over me. And then I turn around and high school's practically done. I feel like cursing. My inability to is only making matters worse. *Imagines glove* I sure hope this works...
And the worst part is when they go awry, when someone is inconvenienced, when everyone is not happy because of something that results from them, I get so incredibly conflicted my mind immediately resorts to suicide. I just want the conflict to stop through any method necessary. I want it to end and never, ever, ever occur again. Even for the most trivial affairs. Confrontations drive me absolutely crazy. When others are inconvenienced, annoyed, hurt, inflamed whatever because of something that transpired by me needing something... RAWR!
In case you didn't notice, the stress is turning up. College essays need to be done SOON. And I've got that blasted Shakespeare project to hang over me. And then I turn around and high school's practically done. I feel like cursing. My inability to is only making matters worse. *Imagines glove* I sure hope this works...
Tuesday, October 26
A Cautionary Note
I'd like to apologize in advance for a few things I may say when a certain "Catherine Kronk" is involved. It's a hate-hate-hate relationship we have going that is entirely too entertaining to taint with "tact" and "proper self-restraint." So when you see me say things like "I'll kill the cat" I mean it completely facetiously. You all know I drown cats, and it is their lack of ability to breathe in water that kills them, not me. See? There I go again. So I'm sorry. But Catherine deserves it. Because she doesn't wear pants. I'm sure you'd do the same in my position too.
*Smacks David* No David! Insult, chastise, ricidule! We don't stare! Catherine, for Allah's sake, put on some clothes! You're corrupting the youth.
*Smacks David* No David! Insult, chastise, ricidule! We don't stare! Catherine, for Allah's sake, put on some clothes! You're corrupting the youth.
Monday, October 25
Of Conflicts and Things
Well, I think I've figured out one of my more significant flaws. I'm more intimidated by the actual conflict than any of the possible outcomes. I'm a fatalist, a stoic; I can take what Fate hands me. It's the idea that I can change that Fate, and that I'll be responsible for doing so, that causes me such fits. If I remember that no outcome is all that bad, perhaps I won't get so anxious about conflict. In fact, it's inspiration for my speech:( "All we have to fear is fear itself." For so long I couldn't understand Roosevelt's words. I thought ,"Surely they're just oversimplifying a complex situation to provide some sort of solace from the horrors of reality." But I think I've figured it out. Roosevelt is saying no situation is so bad that we cannot persevere, or at least try to overcome our obstacles. Fear only hinders our ability to do so. Don't fear failure, fear the fear of failure. Dream the impossible dream; don't fear the inevitable. Work for an impossible goal. What have you got to lose?) Etc. I'll add in lots of failures, to make it funny and pessimistic, keeping with my goal. It's good to realize my problem with stress, though. Maybe I can work on getting past it.
Sunday, October 24
Too much
PIZZA (I'm such a pig)! And procrastinated homework. I'm going to start now, I mean it! But I made you all a fun new poll to get you in the election mood season. I won't tell you who I'm voting for, but the Power of Cheese sure makes a convincing argument. Sure beats the blunt truth of Mondale or the brainsucking desire of the Unholy Rotting Spiro Agnew corpse. Or does it? You decide!
Prynnes and Needles
(This is an addendum after I’ve written the below entry: Sometimes you just need to procrastinate and get a rhyming mood, ya know? One where you’re partially telling the truth, partially making fun of yourself, and partially just writing what’s appropriate, regardless of whether it’s how you feel. It’s a character, part you, part alien. Still, I don’t know why self-degradation amuses me so, especially above. I do like the title though, it's kinda neat. Go figure. And lighten up a little, geez!)
I stood over the broken body, admiring my handiwork. Perhaps admiring is a tad strong; I was thinking of how I had come to such a state, the repercussions of my actions, and whether outrunning the police really was a feasible option. I was the definition of ambivalence. What I had done was insanity. No, it transcended insanity; this was unsanity. In the eyes of my "peers" it wouldn't garner much sympathy, but in the eyes of God, I think I can expect at least a touch of mercy. No sane person would have done this. It went against everything society stood for, everything morality stood for, everything I stood for. But it was necessary. Why should I suffer when happiness is a gunshot away? That's all it had taken, a single bullet, and I was finally blessed with peace.
He'd certainly deserved it. You would be hard pressed to find an individual who wasn't certifiably delusional when they said they wouldn't have done the same. In fact, my self control up to that point had far surpassed what many consider humanly possible. Incessant noise, morning to night to morning to night to eternity, never ceasing, never relenting, perpetually pounding my eardrums, reverberating to my fragile psyche, soon battered beyond recognition. I moved, he followed. I went to the law, and they professed ignorance, helpless under the firey racket that assaulted my brain. The only answer was for me to take matters into my own hands.
I hadn't planned ahead. This was no premeditated affair, where I would plot and scheme, eventually crouching in a corner and stabbing my nemesis in the back like a craven cur. No, I had had enough. He attacked, no longer covert but right at my wizened face. It was a moment of divine inspiration, an epiphany of such clarity that I broke from the trite chain that had become my life.
The chain, the chain, (my brain, the pain!) the pains of chains, the ins and sanes. I broke, I cracked, He begged, I lacked clemency of soul or heart or mind or... Fool. The jig is done, the die's been cast, and guess who lost and ended last? I killed the man, I grilled the man, I chilled and willed and filled the man with one young bullet of molten heart, I thought that would be the place to start a revolution within this town, a riot, a war, all to drown the noise from stopping, fully cutting short, my life ABORT ABORT ABORT... too late, to change the fate of men and girls and bullets aimed to kill.
Now he's dead. They won't like it. But I was justified! I was miserable! I had to do it! Excuses, they'll throw, for they don't know. "One more year, he would have gone, one more year is not so long to wait to live in peace, now pieces because of foolish words; birds of hope have flown the coop because of what you've down to stoop down to levels you surpassed so ever long ago." Oh Woe! Hypocrites, cowards, with bloody hands who stand with scowls of hate and walls. Walls and walls to halls and halls a maze, this craze, of nonconformity. It was all fine, it was all mine, but when I share it starts to scare the tiny mindful hobgoblins who always guard the source of our tranquility, our sheltered mind, too scared to find it might, Heaven forbid, be wrong. We all are wrong, it's in the song, the lyrics screech, the message long that we cannot achieve the level of rightness we require, so we pretend that we are higher already than we can ever be. Why do they care? Why do they dare? Why do they block and wall away to stare? They stop and the world stops with them.
He was going to leave. A year's time. But you don't know! You can't understand! I couldn't wait! It was time, time to rhyme or time to chime the bells of blessed death. Hah! If they had mocked, I would have laughed, if that had gawked I would have pathed a tunnel far away to where they could not needle and say I was sew very bloodredded Alpha Branded onto my pathetic soul.
I couldn't wait. I had to please, I had to try to fit with ease into everyone's definitions of what was not abhorrent. I tried to run, I tried to hide, I tried to stem my fickle pride but I was caught. I should have fought, I thought, but I could not. For pipes and dreams misdirect streams to oceans too infant-esimal for me to be allowed to sea.
Sorry dear, the answers clear, in a murky, half-forgotten way. Why should I try if I'm to die a day or week or year or lifetime from this very point. Easy, easy, easy's the key to contentment for you and me and thou and thee. Why can't you see? Why can't I sea? It's all so very silly. I've killed man, it's nothing more than any hardships I may have in store. Death's a dream and life's a nightmare of beautiful proportions. Laugh and laugh my days away, so that I'll look back and one day say that nothing mattered so it never went to waste. Too much haste I sped along the timeline so distorted wrong. But laughter is the blessed cure, so pleasant, lyrical, and pure you won't detect the subtle flaw of hollows filled with tears.
Tears? What do I know of tears? I haven't cried for years and years! I've no great fears, no angry peers who would think to stop me. I never grasp, I merely receive, I laugh when I'm supposed to grieve, my mind's a fickle, wayward sieve of apathetic euphoria. Don't believe that paradoxes and ironies are quite as humorous, for they deceive one to thinking tricks instead of truths.
So he's dead. What do I care? I've got to die eventually. Everyone does. Laugh along the way. That's all we ought to do, right? When the reward's worse than failure, shouldn't one be happy to lose? I don't have an opinion either way. Best to learn now that some other day, so far away. Sorry, Love. I'm only kid-ding.
I stood over the broken body, admiring my handiwork. Perhaps admiring is a tad strong; I was thinking of how I had come to such a state, the repercussions of my actions, and whether outrunning the police really was a feasible option. I was the definition of ambivalence. What I had done was insanity. No, it transcended insanity; this was unsanity. In the eyes of my "peers" it wouldn't garner much sympathy, but in the eyes of God, I think I can expect at least a touch of mercy. No sane person would have done this. It went against everything society stood for, everything morality stood for, everything I stood for. But it was necessary. Why should I suffer when happiness is a gunshot away? That's all it had taken, a single bullet, and I was finally blessed with peace.
He'd certainly deserved it. You would be hard pressed to find an individual who wasn't certifiably delusional when they said they wouldn't have done the same. In fact, my self control up to that point had far surpassed what many consider humanly possible. Incessant noise, morning to night to morning to night to eternity, never ceasing, never relenting, perpetually pounding my eardrums, reverberating to my fragile psyche, soon battered beyond recognition. I moved, he followed. I went to the law, and they professed ignorance, helpless under the firey racket that assaulted my brain. The only answer was for me to take matters into my own hands.
I hadn't planned ahead. This was no premeditated affair, where I would plot and scheme, eventually crouching in a corner and stabbing my nemesis in the back like a craven cur. No, I had had enough. He attacked, no longer covert but right at my wizened face. It was a moment of divine inspiration, an epiphany of such clarity that I broke from the trite chain that had become my life.
The chain, the chain, (my brain, the pain!) the pains of chains, the ins and sanes. I broke, I cracked, He begged, I lacked clemency of soul or heart or mind or... Fool. The jig is done, the die's been cast, and guess who lost and ended last? I killed the man, I grilled the man, I chilled and willed and filled the man with one young bullet of molten heart, I thought that would be the place to start a revolution within this town, a riot, a war, all to drown the noise from stopping, fully cutting short, my life ABORT ABORT ABORT... too late, to change the fate of men and girls and bullets aimed to kill.
Now he's dead. They won't like it. But I was justified! I was miserable! I had to do it! Excuses, they'll throw, for they don't know. "One more year, he would have gone, one more year is not so long to wait to live in peace, now pieces because of foolish words; birds of hope have flown the coop because of what you've down to stoop down to levels you surpassed so ever long ago." Oh Woe! Hypocrites, cowards, with bloody hands who stand with scowls of hate and walls. Walls and walls to halls and halls a maze, this craze, of nonconformity. It was all fine, it was all mine, but when I share it starts to scare the tiny mindful hobgoblins who always guard the source of our tranquility, our sheltered mind, too scared to find it might, Heaven forbid, be wrong. We all are wrong, it's in the song, the lyrics screech, the message long that we cannot achieve the level of rightness we require, so we pretend that we are higher already than we can ever be. Why do they care? Why do they dare? Why do they block and wall away to stare? They stop and the world stops with them.
He was going to leave. A year's time. But you don't know! You can't understand! I couldn't wait! It was time, time to rhyme or time to chime the bells of blessed death. Hah! If they had mocked, I would have laughed, if that had gawked I would have pathed a tunnel far away to where they could not needle and say I was sew very bloodredded Alpha Branded onto my pathetic soul.
I couldn't wait. I had to please, I had to try to fit with ease into everyone's definitions of what was not abhorrent. I tried to run, I tried to hide, I tried to stem my fickle pride but I was caught. I should have fought, I thought, but I could not. For pipes and dreams misdirect streams to oceans too infant-esimal for me to be allowed to sea.
Sorry dear, the answers clear, in a murky, half-forgotten way. Why should I try if I'm to die a day or week or year or lifetime from this very point. Easy, easy, easy's the key to contentment for you and me and thou and thee. Why can't you see? Why can't I sea? It's all so very silly. I've killed man, it's nothing more than any hardships I may have in store. Death's a dream and life's a nightmare of beautiful proportions. Laugh and laugh my days away, so that I'll look back and one day say that nothing mattered so it never went to waste. Too much haste I sped along the timeline so distorted wrong. But laughter is the blessed cure, so pleasant, lyrical, and pure you won't detect the subtle flaw of hollows filled with tears.
Tears? What do I know of tears? I haven't cried for years and years! I've no great fears, no angry peers who would think to stop me. I never grasp, I merely receive, I laugh when I'm supposed to grieve, my mind's a fickle, wayward sieve of apathetic euphoria. Don't believe that paradoxes and ironies are quite as humorous, for they deceive one to thinking tricks instead of truths.
So he's dead. What do I care? I've got to die eventually. Everyone does. Laugh along the way. That's all we ought to do, right? When the reward's worse than failure, shouldn't one be happy to lose? I don't have an opinion either way. Best to learn now that some other day, so far away. Sorry, Love. I'm only kid-ding.
Saturday, October 23
Scandalous!
Don't tell Depression and Apathy, but I'm having a sordid affair with Happiness. I know, I know, I said I was over her. "It's an impossible dream, I'm doomed to contentment" or something along those lines were my words. Apparently my resolve wasn't strong enough, though, so for the time being we'll have our trysts and covertly go about our merry way. Perhaps I'll file for a divorce with Existential Despair, but I do like constants and despair seems to be easier to keep up that exultant jubilation. Something has to go wrong sooner or later. Right? Righhhhhhht? Well, I was wrong once...
Anywho, it's been almost a week since I posted last (I've been, ahem, "otherwise indisposed", as it were). I know, shocking. It's normal for most blogs, but I seem to be a tad more ... prolific than most blogwriters. Odd, since I generally deem most of my life trite and not worth mentioning. So, in that spirit, I'll do just the opposite!
We've been assigned a Shakespeare project in English. I don't know what to think of it. On the one hand it'll be a lot of work with a research topic I'm not pleased with at all. On the other, my group is all hard workers and we've got some real interesting ideas; all we have to do is be able to pull them off! We'll see. Hopefully it'll be fun.
What won't be fun, though, is Economics. After adamantly asserting that no, we do not "get what we pay for", I have decided the entire subject of economics is crazy. Given the incentive, one could use economics to prove that 2+2 not only equaled 5, but that they had detailed statistics and historical proof to back it up. And it's only been 4 days! It makes me even more enthusiastic about never, ever, ever, touching business in any form. Business devours your soul then swallows your heart for desert. At least, that's my impression of it.
Another let down was last night's football game. Some people don't understand the fanaticism that many associate with sports. I equate football to a man's soap opera (I've probably written this before, but since you skimmed that, maybe you'll get it the second go around). The drama, the epic confrontations of the highest stakes on the "frozen tundra" (any football field can be called a "frozen tundra", it's fun and dramatic. Try it!), all create an atmosphere of extreme escapism. The team's wins and losses become personal wins and losses. It's like fighting a war with no death. Unless, of course, you're prone to massive heartattacks or severe post-traumatic depression. In those cases, sports are not for you.
Anyway, we lost. It was sort of sad. Not so much since I wasn't looking forward to more marching and really cold November games, but playoffs where your team might win are some of the best games out there (and we may still go, folks; depends on whether Halls wins next week).
Then, continuing the trend of unfortunate events ironically being overshadowed by my sordid liaison with joy, I had the ACT this morning. My impression was that I did better in most areas than the last time. Certainly in Math and Reading. Science, though, BLEW MY BRAIN. It hurt, and I'm still reeling. But it's over. After I see if I like physics in college, I'll be done with the entire subject FOREVER. Economics, foreign languages, and science: the banes of my academic existence.
Speaking of standardized tests, I got my SAT scores. They were good. Not as good as Zaq or Caitlin, but around the same level in relativity to my PSAT score. Again I did much better on Verbal than Math. It sort of bugs me. I mean, I like my high Verbal score. But being a Math Major with that big a discrepancy... Makes me reconsider writing. Good thing I've no confidence, ambition, or real ability, eh?
It's all good though. Be happy, do happy, make happy. I'll certainly try to.
Anywho, it's been almost a week since I posted last (I've been, ahem, "otherwise indisposed", as it were). I know, shocking. It's normal for most blogs, but I seem to be a tad more ... prolific than most blogwriters. Odd, since I generally deem most of my life trite and not worth mentioning. So, in that spirit, I'll do just the opposite!
We've been assigned a Shakespeare project in English. I don't know what to think of it. On the one hand it'll be a lot of work with a research topic I'm not pleased with at all. On the other, my group is all hard workers and we've got some real interesting ideas; all we have to do is be able to pull them off! We'll see. Hopefully it'll be fun.
What won't be fun, though, is Economics. After adamantly asserting that no, we do not "get what we pay for", I have decided the entire subject of economics is crazy. Given the incentive, one could use economics to prove that 2+2 not only equaled 5, but that they had detailed statistics and historical proof to back it up. And it's only been 4 days! It makes me even more enthusiastic about never, ever, ever, touching business in any form. Business devours your soul then swallows your heart for desert. At least, that's my impression of it.
Another let down was last night's football game. Some people don't understand the fanaticism that many associate with sports. I equate football to a man's soap opera (I've probably written this before, but since you skimmed that, maybe you'll get it the second go around). The drama, the epic confrontations of the highest stakes on the "frozen tundra" (any football field can be called a "frozen tundra", it's fun and dramatic. Try it!), all create an atmosphere of extreme escapism. The team's wins and losses become personal wins and losses. It's like fighting a war with no death. Unless, of course, you're prone to massive heartattacks or severe post-traumatic depression. In those cases, sports are not for you.
Anyway, we lost. It was sort of sad. Not so much since I wasn't looking forward to more marching and really cold November games, but playoffs where your team might win are some of the best games out there (and we may still go, folks; depends on whether Halls wins next week).
Then, continuing the trend of unfortunate events ironically being overshadowed by my sordid liaison with joy, I had the ACT this morning. My impression was that I did better in most areas than the last time. Certainly in Math and Reading. Science, though, BLEW MY BRAIN. It hurt, and I'm still reeling. But it's over. After I see if I like physics in college, I'll be done with the entire subject FOREVER. Economics, foreign languages, and science: the banes of my academic existence.
Speaking of standardized tests, I got my SAT scores. They were good. Not as good as Zaq or Caitlin, but around the same level in relativity to my PSAT score. Again I did much better on Verbal than Math. It sort of bugs me. I mean, I like my high Verbal score. But being a Math Major with that big a discrepancy... Makes me reconsider writing. Good thing I've no confidence, ambition, or real ability, eh?
It's all good though. Be happy, do happy, make happy. I'll certainly try to.
Sunday, October 17
Pushing the Rock
I need to hang out at Wal-Mart more; all those smiles might be contagious. But anyway, I rather amuse myself. It seems I not only have a cycle of emotions, but also one of memory. Each time I gradually forget the same lessons I learned previously until I grind them out and re-remember them. I guess I could blame the way my mind works, rapidly forgetting most of the information it gathers and deems unimportant, but I don't know if that's the case. Do the emotions affect the memory or does the loss of memory affect the emotions? Or are they really related at all? Who knows? At least the downs are so much shorter than the ups now. Perhaps they'll get smaller still as time progresses. One can only hope.
However, this time I really did remember something of use, at 1:15AM, that I wrote at the bottom. I believe that defeat, that giving up was really a defining moment. I don't know if it was at that moment, but I do remember that eventually I just stopped caring when my parents fought (Or rather my father yelled and whined and ranted like an upset spoiled child while my mother futilely tried to make a stand and gave up, like I did, because it never did any good). My sister would be in tears screaming, and I'd just apathetically look on, tired of the whole debacle. It's quite telling of a source of my fears and my personality, I think, and I am glad I remembered it all. Maybe if I've identified part of the problem, I can work on remedying the solution.
I suppose I could delete the entry below, as most people would when they read a depressed stupor, "waxing pathetic" as I like to call it, but it's not hurting anything where it is. What are you gonna do, form a negative opinion of me? If so, you haven't been paying attention for the past year :). I think it's important that people don't feel ashamed of their emotions. Which is why when I try to hide something, it means I'm uncertain and conflicted about it, thus producing a depression because I seek a right answer where none exist. Silly me.
I guess now I can enjoy the upswing and do some Calculus/college essays today. I can feel the depression returning already ;). Stay Warm!
However, this time I really did remember something of use, at 1:15AM, that I wrote at the bottom. I believe that defeat, that giving up was really a defining moment. I don't know if it was at that moment, but I do remember that eventually I just stopped caring when my parents fought (Or rather my father yelled and whined and ranted like an upset spoiled child while my mother futilely tried to make a stand and gave up, like I did, because it never did any good). My sister would be in tears screaming, and I'd just apathetically look on, tired of the whole debacle. It's quite telling of a source of my fears and my personality, I think, and I am glad I remembered it all. Maybe if I've identified part of the problem, I can work on remedying the solution.
I suppose I could delete the entry below, as most people would when they read a depressed stupor, "waxing pathetic" as I like to call it, but it's not hurting anything where it is. What are you gonna do, form a negative opinion of me? If so, you haven't been paying attention for the past year :). I think it's important that people don't feel ashamed of their emotions. Which is why when I try to hide something, it means I'm uncertain and conflicted about it, thus producing a depression because I seek a right answer where none exist. Silly me.
I guess now I can enjoy the upswing and do some Calculus/college essays today. I can feel the depression returning already ;). Stay Warm!
On Libby Lu and Superficiality and a Mindless Rant
The below is a response to some expressed antipathy towards a certain store in mall dubiously titled "Libby Lu." I've never seen it, since I haven't gone to the mall in ages, but I decided to respond on one of my favorite topics. However it rapidly degenerates into an aimless rant because for some wonderful reason I've let myself become depressed for, oh, the 15727247 time, and I can't find the motivation to give it up. I should delete it. But I've warned you, so any damage caused by its presence is no longer my responsibility. So bear with me. Or don't. At the moment I don't care.
It is wrong. But it's nothing new. Society has some pretty messed up priorities, materialism a primary one. When you read the "Great Gatsby" you'll sort of get a feel for the corrupt nature of an "American Dream" that stresses monetary gain, along with a constant desire to be "the best." Fame and fortune are the problems, the cult of celebrity and all of that. I guess it's what drives capitalism, but it seems that entirely too many mundane middle class people have empty, depressed lives. Look at Fight Club.
It makes one wonder what role faith plays. People fear death. They mourn it, they regret it, they live their lives trying to avoid it. I just don't understand it. I've no respect for the institution; I figure it'll happen eventually, the interim is merely a spark in a long, dark tunnel of nothing. And yet, I've more reason to fear it that most people. You all have God and Heaven. Yet, for some reason, you can get depressed, angry, jealous, whatever. Perhaps you just lack appreciation for your gift of faith. I don't know. I always think if I believed in a Heaven-like afterlife, I'd never be unhappy. I'd only think "Just a few years and I'll be in permanent bliss." How hard is it to act properly when you know you just have to wait such a relatively brief period until you're eternally rewarded? It's not. I do it, more or less. Yet I see so many unhappy, misguided, empty people. How does this happen? Is there an innate lack of faith? Is it too easy? Is it just because we're all stupid teenagers? I rather doubt it; it seems many adults are just as bad. So what's the problem? Why do people with faith care about life? Or, better yet, why do they ever act anything but happy, motivated, kind, caring, jesus-imitating saints? Lack of perspective is my best guess. Lack of appreciation my second.
I suppose I'm one to talk. I can think "Why be depressed when you can be happy? Be happy for happy's sake." I have plenty of reasons to be. But I lose faith in most everything. Except Death. My existence and Death seem to be the only certainties. The only things I can trust. Life's probably just some perverse deception or sadistic game. And I'm losing. I ought to give up. If I was to follow the advice I gave above, I shouldn't worry about a single thing since it'll all end eventually. Then you get to the whole "then why not end it now" thing. We've been there.
And I've once again remember my problem: Children, don't think. Don't question. Don't ever have an opinion. Just go along with the flow. Accept things. That's the key. Accept and be happy. Don't even consider that you're wrong or that anything and/or everything could be a lie or pointless. Just don't. Please.
I hate existentialism.
************************************************************
A Revelation:
"I love you."
"No you don't."
It hurt. We loved him. Children loved their parents, regardless of fault. It's just what family does.
"Yes we do!"
It was true. We did. That feeling was love, as much as a child could recognize it.
"No you don't."
Another dagger. How could we convince him? Words weren't enough, apparently. Why didn't he believe us? What could we do?
"Yes we do!"
A scream, this time. Maybe a tear. Of frustration, despair, futility.
"You don't love me. I'm just a strange man who pays the bills and lives in your house. You don't really care."
He didn't want to believe. He couldn't be convinced. I gave up.
Thus, so it was spoken, so it became.
It is wrong. But it's nothing new. Society has some pretty messed up priorities, materialism a primary one. When you read the "Great Gatsby" you'll sort of get a feel for the corrupt nature of an "American Dream" that stresses monetary gain, along with a constant desire to be "the best." Fame and fortune are the problems, the cult of celebrity and all of that. I guess it's what drives capitalism, but it seems that entirely too many mundane middle class people have empty, depressed lives. Look at Fight Club.
It makes one wonder what role faith plays. People fear death. They mourn it, they regret it, they live their lives trying to avoid it. I just don't understand it. I've no respect for the institution; I figure it'll happen eventually, the interim is merely a spark in a long, dark tunnel of nothing. And yet, I've more reason to fear it that most people. You all have God and Heaven. Yet, for some reason, you can get depressed, angry, jealous, whatever. Perhaps you just lack appreciation for your gift of faith. I don't know. I always think if I believed in a Heaven-like afterlife, I'd never be unhappy. I'd only think "Just a few years and I'll be in permanent bliss." How hard is it to act properly when you know you just have to wait such a relatively brief period until you're eternally rewarded? It's not. I do it, more or less. Yet I see so many unhappy, misguided, empty people. How does this happen? Is there an innate lack of faith? Is it too easy? Is it just because we're all stupid teenagers? I rather doubt it; it seems many adults are just as bad. So what's the problem? Why do people with faith care about life? Or, better yet, why do they ever act anything but happy, motivated, kind, caring, jesus-imitating saints? Lack of perspective is my best guess. Lack of appreciation my second.
I suppose I'm one to talk. I can think "Why be depressed when you can be happy? Be happy for happy's sake." I have plenty of reasons to be. But I lose faith in most everything. Except Death. My existence and Death seem to be the only certainties. The only things I can trust. Life's probably just some perverse deception or sadistic game. And I'm losing. I ought to give up. If I was to follow the advice I gave above, I shouldn't worry about a single thing since it'll all end eventually. Then you get to the whole "then why not end it now" thing. We've been there.
And I've once again remember my problem: Children, don't think. Don't question. Don't ever have an opinion. Just go along with the flow. Accept things. That's the key. Accept and be happy. Don't even consider that you're wrong or that anything and/or everything could be a lie or pointless. Just don't. Please.
I hate existentialism.
************************************************************
A Revelation:
"I love you."
"No you don't."
It hurt. We loved him. Children loved their parents, regardless of fault. It's just what family does.
"Yes we do!"
It was true. We did. That feeling was love, as much as a child could recognize it.
"No you don't."
Another dagger. How could we convince him? Words weren't enough, apparently. Why didn't he believe us? What could we do?
"Yes we do!"
A scream, this time. Maybe a tear. Of frustration, despair, futility.
"You don't love me. I'm just a strange man who pays the bills and lives in your house. You don't really care."
He didn't want to believe. He couldn't be convinced. I gave up.
Thus, so it was spoken, so it became.
Friday, October 15
Notes
No, not those notes! Mine aren't legible and look like they've been done by serial killers. Just a few things to wrap up the week.
I forgot something rather humorous about Wednesday at the Kerry headquarters. My sister wanted a button that just had their names, so since they had a new shipment I got her a blue one. I wore it myself so I wouldn't forget. I may have gotten some looks, but I thought nothing of it... Until I took it off and read "Women for Kerry and Edwards." I'd overlooked the "Women" apparently. So I guess most people thought I was either illiterate or the flattest chested girl they'd ever seen. I guess we'll never know...
I also believe I have problems with loose ends. It's one reason I don't like reading books, because I feel obliged to try to finish them. Such is the case with my current book. It's not necessarily written bad, but it's "graphic." But I sorta feel like I ought to finish it. I still remember that I need to finish Phillip Pullman's series even though I haven't read the books in years. Sorta like with Harry Potter too. Loose ends. I like finality. Go figure. Stay warm everyone, and have a good weekend!
I forgot something rather humorous about Wednesday at the Kerry headquarters. My sister wanted a button that just had their names, so since they had a new shipment I got her a blue one. I wore it myself so I wouldn't forget. I may have gotten some looks, but I thought nothing of it... Until I took it off and read "Women for Kerry and Edwards." I'd overlooked the "Women" apparently. So I guess most people thought I was either illiterate or the flattest chested girl they'd ever seen. I guess we'll never know...
I also believe I have problems with loose ends. It's one reason I don't like reading books, because I feel obliged to try to finish them. Such is the case with my current book. It's not necessarily written bad, but it's "graphic." But I sorta feel like I ought to finish it. I still remember that I need to finish Phillip Pullman's series even though I haven't read the books in years. Sorta like with Harry Potter too. Loose ends. I like finality. Go figure. Stay warm everyone, and have a good weekend!
Cold
The time is nigh. My return to dominance imminent. A chill wind blows, slicing through my paltry exterior and lacerating my withered heart. My soul's combined lamentations overpower the waning forces of naive summer, sucking the warmth from my despairing bones. Only the bitter aftertaste of my cynical breathe remains. I am the Cold. I am the sigh, the pervasive whisp of biting malice that is the precursor to winter. The Summer has Fallen. My depression rises to the task. The Night lengthens, the darkness ever creeping, always devouring more light each day like Death ravishing fleeting seconds of Life.
Still I hunger, still I starve. I crave warmth to soothe my brittle bones. I wish to mend the cracks and wounds so many blows have dealt my battered soul. But I am the Cold. My hands ice, slicing, stabbing, piercing the blissful skin, releasing my black blood onto the terrified, huddled hoards. I sigh and the world shivers. I gasp and the world cries out. I shake and millions are flung into an abyss of sorrow, hurled into the oblivion that is my aimless desire. I laugh my mirthless laugh and the world is shattered, an icicle reduced to razor-sharp fragments, the remains of hope, kindness, love, destined to cut and curse until they melt upon my defeat. Then I smile. I smile my wicked smile. My teeth bleak, pristine barriers to completion. My lips cracked, dissolving traces of former color, a red love reduced to a white soulless ruin. My breathe, painfully throbbing, in, out, in, out, up, down, up, down, down, down, down into the cavern of my miserable heart. Sorrow has long since died in that bleak, hollow cave, replaced by gnawing resentment, plotting, despising, abominating all that it shall never have.
My heart shines through the holes in my fading body. Blinding rays, knives hurled into the eyes and minds of those who can take no shelter within the souls of others. My sighs are hurled at me, bruising my skin, changing the vibrant hues to a putrid purplish mess, red shavings of past dreams dropped like blood from a dagger. I die. The bruises fade, leaving cold blue death. The shell still breathes. My hair, an ancient gray, reflects the harsh, joyless sunlight, a paradox of eternity atop a face of seconds. My mouth and its grotesque assortment of horrors smile their terrible smile. Then, another long, cold, soul shattering sigh and I burst into a thousand prisms, carried into the void.
I am Despair. I am Death. I am Cold.
*******************************************************************
Heh, sorry, I had to. I thought of avoiding the horrible pun-like ending, but I simply had to! But yes, the above was inspired by Mr. Sugue's wonderful observation that the recent chill is the result of my cold, black heart. So blame him! Indeed, last winter was one of, if not the, worst one's I've had. Terror, love, wrecking my car, the hospital, daily chest bursting agony (literally and figuratively hehe. More of the latter, though, oddly enough). Kinda makes the present seem a lot better, eh? My hands will be frozen for much of the extent of the months, not that they weren't over the summer though. It'll just be more difficult to remedy. Gloves, gloves, gloves... Mental and physical, that's what I need. And I think I know how to obtain both! But indeed, winters seem more depressing that the summer. Although judging by my summer (heck, most of my past year), the season is a tad irrelevant. It's a season of extremes, for to fight the horrible cold, you often must risk being scorched in the battle. I'm ready to be burnt though. I'm fed up with being frigid! I think...
So until next time... Keep Warm!
Still I hunger, still I starve. I crave warmth to soothe my brittle bones. I wish to mend the cracks and wounds so many blows have dealt my battered soul. But I am the Cold. My hands ice, slicing, stabbing, piercing the blissful skin, releasing my black blood onto the terrified, huddled hoards. I sigh and the world shivers. I gasp and the world cries out. I shake and millions are flung into an abyss of sorrow, hurled into the oblivion that is my aimless desire. I laugh my mirthless laugh and the world is shattered, an icicle reduced to razor-sharp fragments, the remains of hope, kindness, love, destined to cut and curse until they melt upon my defeat. Then I smile. I smile my wicked smile. My teeth bleak, pristine barriers to completion. My lips cracked, dissolving traces of former color, a red love reduced to a white soulless ruin. My breathe, painfully throbbing, in, out, in, out, up, down, up, down, down, down, down into the cavern of my miserable heart. Sorrow has long since died in that bleak, hollow cave, replaced by gnawing resentment, plotting, despising, abominating all that it shall never have.
My heart shines through the holes in my fading body. Blinding rays, knives hurled into the eyes and minds of those who can take no shelter within the souls of others. My sighs are hurled at me, bruising my skin, changing the vibrant hues to a putrid purplish mess, red shavings of past dreams dropped like blood from a dagger. I die. The bruises fade, leaving cold blue death. The shell still breathes. My hair, an ancient gray, reflects the harsh, joyless sunlight, a paradox of eternity atop a face of seconds. My mouth and its grotesque assortment of horrors smile their terrible smile. Then, another long, cold, soul shattering sigh and I burst into a thousand prisms, carried into the void.
I am Despair. I am Death. I am Cold.
*******************************************************************
Heh, sorry, I had to. I thought of avoiding the horrible pun-like ending, but I simply had to! But yes, the above was inspired by Mr. Sugue's wonderful observation that the recent chill is the result of my cold, black heart. So blame him! Indeed, last winter was one of, if not the, worst one's I've had. Terror, love, wrecking my car, the hospital, daily chest bursting agony (literally and figuratively hehe. More of the latter, though, oddly enough). Kinda makes the present seem a lot better, eh? My hands will be frozen for much of the extent of the months, not that they weren't over the summer though. It'll just be more difficult to remedy. Gloves, gloves, gloves... Mental and physical, that's what I need. And I think I know how to obtain both! But indeed, winters seem more depressing that the summer. Although judging by my summer (heck, most of my past year), the season is a tad irrelevant. It's a season of extremes, for to fight the horrible cold, you often must risk being scorched in the battle. I'm ready to be burnt though. I'm fed up with being frigid! I think...
So until next time... Keep Warm!
Wednesday, October 13
Son of a
Socialist (there's a curse for you add to "Mother Theresa", Mer). I made a horrible mistake today. I thought I was going to do the right thing and vote Democrat like a good boy. But I had to be different... I had to raise the third parties! Why?! Why, in that moment of crippling weakness, did my resolve flounder? He just sounds... better, for a disillusioned cynical apathite like myself. But he's not! Why'd you do it, Dylan? Why did you vote for Petroutka?
Heh, just kidding. In my first time ever voting, I voted Democrat across the board. I considered voting Duncan, but voted the anonymous Democrat sacrifice to spite Coach Roberts. Honestly, I can take some rationale, but his just didn't make sense. Bush's economic policy is going to destroy us with all the money he's spending. I did finish my volunteering after my second stint at the Kerry headquarters. Interesting people and organization. Makes ya feel kinda... "involved." But that's politics. No ones cares about that stuff...
I know I had other stuff to talk about, but it's been stripped from my mind. I started this window at 9, but I'm ending at 10:35. Go figure. Maybe something interesting next time? Maybe?
Heh, just kidding. In my first time ever voting, I voted Democrat across the board. I considered voting Duncan, but voted the anonymous Democrat sacrifice to spite Coach Roberts. Honestly, I can take some rationale, but his just didn't make sense. Bush's economic policy is going to destroy us with all the money he's spending. I did finish my volunteering after my second stint at the Kerry headquarters. Interesting people and organization. Makes ya feel kinda... "involved." But that's politics. No ones cares about that stuff...
I know I had other stuff to talk about, but it's been stripped from my mind. I started this window at 9, but I'm ending at 10:35. Go figure. Maybe something interesting next time? Maybe?
Monday, October 11
Brie's Answer (#15 for the win!)
1. Who are you?
C'est le fromage.
2. Are we friends?
i don't usually have friends, only those who are at the bottom of my hit list
3. When and how did we meet?
have i met you?
4. How have I affected you?
you haunt my dreams at night
5. What do you think of me?
good god, please just eat, it's sad when i weigh 20 pounds more than a senior
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me?
memories! all alone in the moonlight!
7. How long do you think we will be friends?
refer to #2
8. Do you love me?
love is such a strong word...
9. Do you have a crush on me?
hmmm...must think....no
10. Would you kiss me?
only if you mysteriously transformed into johnny depp
11. Would you hug me?
refer to #10
12. Physically, what stands out?
horizontally challenged
13. Emotionally, what stands out?
horizontally challenged
14. Do you wish I was cooler?
If you were any cooler, the earth would freeze over and aliens wuld eat us as popsicles..yummy
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I?
57, wait that's ketchup
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
candy-red-fingernail-polish...you said be creative
17. Am I loveable?
i think the better question is how can you not be edible?
18. How long have you known me?
to see is to know...2 min
19. Describe me in one word.
happy moose ok that was two words
20. What was your first impression?
how can anyone look so much like a birch tree?
21. Do you still think that way about me now?
of course not, now you're a tennessee gum tree
22. What do you think my weakness is?
Your lack of weaknesses
23. Do you think I'll get married?
only if you can catch her
24. What makes me happy?
squirrels..ok that's me
25. What makes me sad?
old baywatch episodes
26. What reminds you of me?
the mast of a sailboat
27. If you could give me anything what would it be?
seychelles
28. How well do you know me?
was anyone meant to understand dyl?
29. When's the last time you saw me?
in the reflection of a bicycle light
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
well once i got into some trouble with CIA...oh shit i said that
31. Do you think I could kill someone?
if it involved drugging decorating them with lawn-gnomes and leaving them out in the sun to dry after dousing them in a mixture of melted popsicle juice and mashed bananas
C'est le fromage.
2. Are we friends?
i don't usually have friends, only those who are at the bottom of my hit list
3. When and how did we meet?
have i met you?
4. How have I affected you?
you haunt my dreams at night
5. What do you think of me?
good god, please just eat, it's sad when i weigh 20 pounds more than a senior
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me?
memories! all alone in the moonlight!
7. How long do you think we will be friends?
refer to #2
8. Do you love me?
love is such a strong word...
9. Do you have a crush on me?
hmmm...must think....no
10. Would you kiss me?
only if you mysteriously transformed into johnny depp
11. Would you hug me?
refer to #10
12. Physically, what stands out?
horizontally challenged
13. Emotionally, what stands out?
horizontally challenged
14. Do you wish I was cooler?
If you were any cooler, the earth would freeze over and aliens wuld eat us as popsicles..yummy
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I?
57, wait that's ketchup
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
candy-red-fingernail-polish...you said be creative
17. Am I loveable?
i think the better question is how can you not be edible?
18. How long have you known me?
to see is to know...2 min
19. Describe me in one word.
happy moose ok that was two words
20. What was your first impression?
how can anyone look so much like a birch tree?
21. Do you still think that way about me now?
of course not, now you're a tennessee gum tree
22. What do you think my weakness is?
Your lack of weaknesses
23. Do you think I'll get married?
only if you can catch her
24. What makes me happy?
squirrels..ok that's me
25. What makes me sad?
old baywatch episodes
26. What reminds you of me?
the mast of a sailboat
27. If you could give me anything what would it be?
seychelles
28. How well do you know me?
was anyone meant to understand dyl?
29. When's the last time you saw me?
in the reflection of a bicycle light
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
well once i got into some trouble with CIA...oh shit i said that
31. Do you think I could kill someone?
if it involved drugging decorating them with lawn-gnomes and leaving them out in the sun to dry after dousing them in a mixture of melted popsicle juice and mashed bananas
Meredith's Answers (I like #3)
1. Who are you? avarst,ye see the ship coming throught the fog thar, the scurvy lass hanging off the mainmast...that be me...arr
2. Are we friends? like, totally, fer sher, as long as i can keep that totally awesome skirt you lent me last week.
3. When and how did we meet? you know, stockholm syndrome really isn't as bad as it's cracked up to be.
4. How have I affected you? well...there is the fact that i'm missing a couple of toes...
5. What do you think of me? i think you're way too adventurous...and no, shopping bags do not make good parachutes.
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? in a word...poker.
7. How long do you think we will be friends? as long as the ghost of the 499th person to whack the berlin wall down is haunting the womens' loo at King's Cross Station in London...
8. Do you love me? you've always been my love, ever since you made me sniff that oddly mechanical looking flower in Brazil
9. Do you have a crush on me? well, i would think the two ton iron cannon on top of you would be a clue...
10. Would you kiss me? EWW COOTIES! *laughs* back to crayonland for me
11. Would you hug me? aye...if the pirates command it
12. Physically, what stands out? that you're taller than me!! *smiles* yay
13. Emotionally, what stands out?
14. Do you wish I was cooler? if you were any colder, you'd be dead.
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? *strokes chin* well, it depends on iff you're wearing socks.
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Dastardly Dyl...because we're PIRATES!! *looks at bonnie* rawr.
17. Am I loveable? is the pope catholic?
18. How long have you known me? ever since that fateful day when you swept me off my feet down near the docks of the swamp...
19. Describe me in one word. jupiter.
20. What was your first impression? eat, dylan, eat!
21. Do you still think that way about me now? yes!!
22. What do you think my weakness is? weakness. hmm. omnipotent pirates have no weaknesses :D
23. Do you think I'll get married? only if she'll hunt squirrels with you.
24. What makes me happy? computers.
25. What makes me sad? dictionaries.
26. What reminds you of me? squirrels and telephone poles
27. If you could give me anything what would it be? a sword!!
28. How well do you know me?well, being stuck in a cell with someone for three years makes you learn a lot about them.
29. When's the last time you saw me? goodness. you're here with me now. here in this dark and murder-ridden ad for hepatitis, eh?
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? *shuts mouth* no! no, nothing....
31. Do you think I could kill someone? if you had a rapier and a bottle of gatorade, heck yeah
2. Are we friends? like, totally, fer sher, as long as i can keep that totally awesome skirt you lent me last week.
3. When and how did we meet? you know, stockholm syndrome really isn't as bad as it's cracked up to be.
4. How have I affected you? well...there is the fact that i'm missing a couple of toes...
5. What do you think of me? i think you're way too adventurous...and no, shopping bags do not make good parachutes.
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? in a word...poker.
7. How long do you think we will be friends? as long as the ghost of the 499th person to whack the berlin wall down is haunting the womens' loo at King's Cross Station in London...
8. Do you love me? you've always been my love, ever since you made me sniff that oddly mechanical looking flower in Brazil
9. Do you have a crush on me? well, i would think the two ton iron cannon on top of you would be a clue...
10. Would you kiss me? EWW COOTIES! *laughs* back to crayonland for me
11. Would you hug me? aye...if the pirates command it
12. Physically, what stands out? that you're taller than me!! *smiles* yay
13. Emotionally, what stands out?
14. Do you wish I was cooler? if you were any colder, you'd be dead.
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? *strokes chin* well, it depends on iff you're wearing socks.
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Dastardly Dyl...because we're PIRATES!! *looks at bonnie* rawr.
17. Am I loveable? is the pope catholic?
18. How long have you known me? ever since that fateful day when you swept me off my feet down near the docks of the swamp...
19. Describe me in one word. jupiter.
20. What was your first impression? eat, dylan, eat!
21. Do you still think that way about me now? yes!!
22. What do you think my weakness is? weakness. hmm. omnipotent pirates have no weaknesses :D
23. Do you think I'll get married? only if she'll hunt squirrels with you.
24. What makes me happy? computers.
25. What makes me sad? dictionaries.
26. What reminds you of me? squirrels and telephone poles
27. If you could give me anything what would it be? a sword!!
28. How well do you know me?well, being stuck in a cell with someone for three years makes you learn a lot about them.
29. When's the last time you saw me? goodness. you're here with me now. here in this dark and murder-ridden ad for hepatitis, eh?
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? *shuts mouth* no! no, nothing....
31. Do you think I could kill someone? if you had a rapier and a bottle of gatorade, heck yeah
Sunday, October 10
David's Answers (Wonderful, esp. # 4)
1. Who are you?
The unexplainable joining of fried rice and Pocky.
2. Are we friends?
There's always a bond between former cellmates.
3. When and how did we meet?
I don't remember, but sometime freshman year, I woke up with a steak
on one eye and an eyepatch on the other.
4. How have I affected you?
You misspelled 'afflicted.'
5. What do you think of me?
EAT SOMETHING.
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me?
That one time we gate-crashed that Broadway premiere? Sheer greatness.
7. How long do you think we will be friends?
Until the end of time. Which, by my calculations, will be right... NO-
8. Do you love me?
Not touching this one with a 10 and a 1/2 foot pole.
9. Do you have a crush on me?
If by crush you mean 'plan to drop a 10-ton anvil on,' yes.
10. Would you kiss me?
See 8.
11. Would you hug me?
Only to see you squirm. Here's an emoticon to show how much this
means to me. <3
12. Physically, what stands out?
Your ribs.
13. Emotionally, what stands out?
Your ribs.
14. Do you wish I was cooler?
If you were any cooler, we'd use your hollowed corpse to store meat.
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I?
The derivative of -Pi/e.
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
Pickles, 'cause you hate it so much when I use it.
17. Am I loveable?
Maybe to somebody. Let's get an IV of pure alcohol and find out.
18. How long have you known me?
I don't remember.
19. Describe me in one word.
Emotionallydisconcertedwhileseekingsocialacceptace-ism.
20. What was your first impression?
*ring* Ethiopia? We found you a posterchild.
21. Do you still think that way about me now?
Yup.
22. What do you think my weakness is?
Your pitiful carbon based skeletal structure.
23. Do you think I'll get married?
Let's hope for the best.
24. What makes me happy?
Being right and logical.
25. What makes me sad?
Kelly.
26. What reminds you of me?
A beanpole.
27. If you could give me anything what would it be?
Body mass and a girlfriend who appreciates theoretical discussions.
28. How well do you know me?
I'd say decently.
29. When's the last time you saw me?
In my mind's eye.
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
Yup. See, my sister had a vision that fated December night...
31. Do you think I could kill someone?
Do you think I couldn't?
The unexplainable joining of fried rice and Pocky.
2. Are we friends?
There's always a bond between former cellmates.
3. When and how did we meet?
I don't remember, but sometime freshman year, I woke up with a steak
on one eye and an eyepatch on the other.
4. How have I affected you?
You misspelled 'afflicted.'
5. What do you think of me?
EAT SOMETHING.
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me?
That one time we gate-crashed that Broadway premiere? Sheer greatness.
7. How long do you think we will be friends?
Until the end of time. Which, by my calculations, will be right... NO-
8. Do you love me?
Not touching this one with a 10 and a 1/2 foot pole.
9. Do you have a crush on me?
If by crush you mean 'plan to drop a 10-ton anvil on,' yes.
10. Would you kiss me?
See 8.
11. Would you hug me?
Only to see you squirm. Here's an emoticon to show how much this
means to me. <3
12. Physically, what stands out?
Your ribs.
13. Emotionally, what stands out?
Your ribs.
14. Do you wish I was cooler?
If you were any cooler, we'd use your hollowed corpse to store meat.
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I?
The derivative of -Pi/e.
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
Pickles, 'cause you hate it so much when I use it.
17. Am I loveable?
Maybe to somebody. Let's get an IV of pure alcohol and find out.
18. How long have you known me?
I don't remember.
19. Describe me in one word.
Emotionallydisconcertedwhileseekingsocialacceptace-ism.
20. What was your first impression?
*ring* Ethiopia? We found you a posterchild.
21. Do you still think that way about me now?
Yup.
22. What do you think my weakness is?
Your pitiful carbon based skeletal structure.
23. Do you think I'll get married?
Let's hope for the best.
24. What makes me happy?
Being right and logical.
25. What makes me sad?
Kelly.
26. What reminds you of me?
A beanpole.
27. If you could give me anything what would it be?
Body mass and a girlfriend who appreciates theoretical discussions.
28. How well do you know me?
I'd say decently.
29. When's the last time you saw me?
In my mind's eye.
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
Yup. See, my sister had a vision that fated December night...
31. Do you think I could kill someone?
Do you think I couldn't?
Elizabeth's Response (My favorite is #20)
1. Who are you? : i am the embodiement of passion and am quite scary to most
people because it's really just passionate fear
2. Are we friends? : depends on if your definition of friends includes chilli
peppers, clandestine death plots, and lots of cyanide
3. When and how did we meet? : i really can't remember if it was the death camp
of Hitler's
General Hedge or if it was at some Geeks Unite! parade....
4. How have I affected you? : well, these warts don't seem to wash off
5. What do you think of me? : what is this "think" that you speak of?
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? : probably the time i stuck my wet
finger in you ear and you refused to see it as something humerous that just happened to upset you greatly
7. How long do you think we will be friends? : however long i can entice you to
retain your screenname
8. Do you love me? : yes, even though you can be an incredible ass to me and
even though i'm constantly annoying
9. Do you have a crush on me? : HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
10. Would you kiss me? : yes, and then i'd rip off my shirt, slowly twirl the
pieces in the air and lick my lips and, shit. did i really type that?
11. Would you hug me? : yes, but you scream and wail like i'm pouring HCl down
your pants
12. Physically, what stands out? : your bones
13. Emotionally, what stands out? : you have emotions under all that
rationalizing!?!?!?
14. Do you wish I was cooler? : good god! if you were you'd be a f****** icicle
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? : -45 degrees Farenheit
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. : diddle-pants, because
it's fun to say diddle-pants
17. Am I loveable? : well i love ya, but i'm not sure anything that i love is
exactly loveable, so no
18. How long have you known me? : beets me, and carrotts too!
19. Describe me in one word. : dylan
20. What was your first impression? : eat
21. Do you still think that way about me now? : i'm still confused about this
"think" you keep mentioning
22. What do you think my weakness is? : I DON'T UNDERSTAND THE QUESTION!!!
DEFINE "THINK" BECAUSE I CERTAINLY DON'T HAVE IT IN MY VOCABULARY, LET ALONE UNDERSTAND WHAT IT MEANS!!!!!!!!!
23. Do you think I'll get married? : GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
24. What makes me happy? : i guess that would entail you actually telling me
something that makes you happy
25. What makes me sad? : your life
26. What reminds you of me? : skinny pirates who test new mathematical teaching
skills on prisoners
27. If you could give me anything what would it be? : a handbook on how to talk
like a pirate
28. How well do you know me? : not well enough
29. When's the last time you saw me? : was it the Diet Dr. Pepper Kill Babies
convention or the Fanta Saves Lives debate?
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? : do i EVER have a problem
telling people about my life?
31. Do you think I could kill someone? : if that someone was named CARRIE!!
people because it's really just passionate fear
2. Are we friends? : depends on if your definition of friends includes chilli
peppers, clandestine death plots, and lots of cyanide
3. When and how did we meet? : i really can't remember if it was the death camp
of Hitler's
General Hedge or if it was at some Geeks Unite! parade....
4. How have I affected you? : well, these warts don't seem to wash off
5. What do you think of me? : what is this "think" that you speak of?
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? : probably the time i stuck my wet
finger in you ear and you refused to see it as something humerous that just happened to upset you greatly
7. How long do you think we will be friends? : however long i can entice you to
retain your screenname
8. Do you love me? : yes, even though you can be an incredible ass to me and
even though i'm constantly annoying
9. Do you have a crush on me? : HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
10. Would you kiss me? : yes, and then i'd rip off my shirt, slowly twirl the
pieces in the air and lick my lips and, shit. did i really type that?
11. Would you hug me? : yes, but you scream and wail like i'm pouring HCl down
your pants
12. Physically, what stands out? : your bones
13. Emotionally, what stands out? : you have emotions under all that
rationalizing!?!?!?
14. Do you wish I was cooler? : good god! if you were you'd be a f****** icicle
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? : -45 degrees Farenheit
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. : diddle-pants, because
it's fun to say diddle-pants
17. Am I loveable? : well i love ya, but i'm not sure anything that i love is
exactly loveable, so no
18. How long have you known me? : beets me, and carrotts too!
19. Describe me in one word. : dylan
20. What was your first impression? : eat
21. Do you still think that way about me now? : i'm still confused about this
"think" you keep mentioning
22. What do you think my weakness is? : I DON'T UNDERSTAND THE QUESTION!!!
DEFINE "THINK" BECAUSE I CERTAINLY DON'T HAVE IT IN MY VOCABULARY, LET ALONE UNDERSTAND WHAT IT MEANS!!!!!!!!!
23. Do you think I'll get married? : GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
24. What makes me happy? : i guess that would entail you actually telling me
something that makes you happy
25. What makes me sad? : your life
26. What reminds you of me? : skinny pirates who test new mathematical teaching
skills on prisoners
27. If you could give me anything what would it be? : a handbook on how to talk
like a pirate
28. How well do you know me? : not well enough
29. When's the last time you saw me? : was it the Diet Dr. Pepper Kill Babies
convention or the Fanta Saves Lives debate?
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? : do i EVER have a problem
telling people about my life?
31. Do you think I could kill someone? : if that someone was named CARRIE!!
College Essay or Rust
I choose rust! Meh, as you may have noticed, my main concern today is procrastinating on my college essay. I've reanalyzed the prompt and pronounced it lacking. The stated goals of "evaluating your own thinking about problems and problem solving, your ability to express yourself in writing, and you as a leader, scholar, and citizen" seem to be poorly accomplished by the vague, inane prompt (choose science/technology, arts/literature, or business/politics and apply them globally. Assess a specific aspects benefits and problems. Given unlimited human and financial resources over the next 10 years, how would you promote and develop a specific aspect of your area of choice to maximize its benefit to society.)
The parameters are entirely too large. Given unlimited financial and human resources, you could take over the world, brainwash the entire populace, and establish and blissful utopia where everything was perfect. Obviously that is not the answer the scholarship givers are seeking, but you see the flaw. The prompt neglects to mention how specific, nor does such a broad topic leave much room to properly express one's self. For instance, I'll probably do mine on environmental efficiency. But do I apply it to just emissions, or go further? Certainly it doesn't restrict one from creative ideas, but with unlimited funds and manpower anything short of a complete utopia is limited and wrong. Being unlimited almost creates another limitation in and of itself. Joy.
So... Friday night, not too shabby. West lost, but I don't mind. We go to the playoffs, more football drama. We don't, free Friday night! Kegger at Easterly's, woooh!
Saturday morning wasn't that bad. The SAT was not my best test, but it was almost certainly better than the ACT. The Math part probably killed me, though. Not any particular question, mind you. But I looked back at my answers on the little section with only 10 problems and two were wrong. I changed them, but it doesn't bode well for the other 60 or so math problems that I wasn't able to check. If time wasn't a constraint, I might very well be able to ace the thing. As it is, 700s on Verbal, 600s on Math seems feasible. Not too bad, although I'd like better. Ah well. No use speculating until I get my scores, eh?
Saturday afternoon was alright. Driving to Crossville was... interesting. Sarah's father seemed to be like a kid in a grownup costume, but I liked him all the same. Interacting with people's parents is rather enlightening as to the origins of one's personality. Not their bodymass, though, as evident by both my parent's obesity. Another story. The marching competition was alright, the highlight being when Ian and I were discussing alternate blurbs to have the announcer say over the intercom. (Background: at Cumberland County, you can pay a fee and the announcer will say cute/dorky little snippets in between bands like "I love you guys" "McMinn County rulez!" and "There is lead in the hotdogs, stop eating them NOW!") Our idea was a simple "God is dead." Not because we believed it, but because it would be quite humorous. "Connie, Shirly and Loraine, you guyz rockzorz!" "God is Dead." "Cumberland County Seniors rock!" Parity.
Saturday evening I went to a play with my sister (The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Martha's play, for those interested). The play itself was alright; nothing too great, but good nonetheless. Carrie and Martha remind me of two old women gossipping and acting like their drunk whenever they're together. Some people...
Today I've just procrastinated. I can't wait until I finish all this college hullaballoo. I need to finalize my application, ask Mr. Petko and Mr. Combs to do my letters (Mr. Petko because he was my inspiration in his method of teaching, and Mr. Combs because his class was where I was the most creative and he's sort of my inspiration in terms of personality), and write my essay. I'll just have to think on it, I guess. Maybe something will come to me.
Also, anyone know a good time/place to volunteer at a campaign? Right now I'd even work at a Bush rally just for laughs. I just need 4 hours for Government, and fast! After this semester, everything should be so much easier... Until I actually get to college, that is. For the interested, polls are showing UT Honors surging, but it's still on the fringes of the margin of error. If anyone thinking of rooming in the honors dorm wants to room together, let me know. Male, preferably, but with the right adjustments to my hair I might be able to pass as a Dylina. I've got the figure, sans endowment. Hmm, the adam's apple may be a problem... Maybe I can "convert" to Islam and wear a scarf? Hey, it's an idea! Ah well. If you have time, do the silly survey. If you don't, then you're probably doing what I should be. Bad you! Bad! And yet, oh so good. Harumph. Until next time!
The parameters are entirely too large. Given unlimited financial and human resources, you could take over the world, brainwash the entire populace, and establish and blissful utopia where everything was perfect. Obviously that is not the answer the scholarship givers are seeking, but you see the flaw. The prompt neglects to mention how specific, nor does such a broad topic leave much room to properly express one's self. For instance, I'll probably do mine on environmental efficiency. But do I apply it to just emissions, or go further? Certainly it doesn't restrict one from creative ideas, but with unlimited funds and manpower anything short of a complete utopia is limited and wrong. Being unlimited almost creates another limitation in and of itself. Joy.
So... Friday night, not too shabby. West lost, but I don't mind. We go to the playoffs, more football drama. We don't, free Friday night! Kegger at Easterly's, woooh!
Saturday morning wasn't that bad. The SAT was not my best test, but it was almost certainly better than the ACT. The Math part probably killed me, though. Not any particular question, mind you. But I looked back at my answers on the little section with only 10 problems and two were wrong. I changed them, but it doesn't bode well for the other 60 or so math problems that I wasn't able to check. If time wasn't a constraint, I might very well be able to ace the thing. As it is, 700s on Verbal, 600s on Math seems feasible. Not too bad, although I'd like better. Ah well. No use speculating until I get my scores, eh?
Saturday afternoon was alright. Driving to Crossville was... interesting. Sarah's father seemed to be like a kid in a grownup costume, but I liked him all the same. Interacting with people's parents is rather enlightening as to the origins of one's personality. Not their bodymass, though, as evident by both my parent's obesity. Another story. The marching competition was alright, the highlight being when Ian and I were discussing alternate blurbs to have the announcer say over the intercom. (Background: at Cumberland County, you can pay a fee and the announcer will say cute/dorky little snippets in between bands like "I love you guys" "McMinn County rulez!" and "There is lead in the hotdogs, stop eating them NOW!") Our idea was a simple "God is dead." Not because we believed it, but because it would be quite humorous. "Connie, Shirly and Loraine, you guyz rockzorz!" "God is Dead." "Cumberland County Seniors rock!" Parity.
Saturday evening I went to a play with my sister (The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Martha's play, for those interested). The play itself was alright; nothing too great, but good nonetheless. Carrie and Martha remind me of two old women gossipping and acting like their drunk whenever they're together. Some people...
Today I've just procrastinated. I can't wait until I finish all this college hullaballoo. I need to finalize my application, ask Mr. Petko and Mr. Combs to do my letters (Mr. Petko because he was my inspiration in his method of teaching, and Mr. Combs because his class was where I was the most creative and he's sort of my inspiration in terms of personality), and write my essay. I'll just have to think on it, I guess. Maybe something will come to me.
Also, anyone know a good time/place to volunteer at a campaign? Right now I'd even work at a Bush rally just for laughs. I just need 4 hours for Government, and fast! After this semester, everything should be so much easier... Until I actually get to college, that is. For the interested, polls are showing UT Honors surging, but it's still on the fringes of the margin of error. If anyone thinking of rooming in the honors dorm wants to room together, let me know. Male, preferably, but with the right adjustments to my hair I might be able to pass as a Dylina. I've got the figure, sans endowment. Hmm, the adam's apple may be a problem... Maybe I can "convert" to Islam and wear a scarf? Hey, it's an idea! Ah well. If you have time, do the silly survey. If you don't, then you're probably doing what I should be. Bad you! Bad! And yet, oh so good. Harumph. Until next time!
Examples
(Here's some examples of the surveys I've done to get your creative juices flowing. Or you can do them serious. But that's sorta boring, don't you think?)
Meredith:
1. Who are you? I am the darkness. I am the light. I am … THE POWER OF CHEESE!
2. Are we friends? Does a cow eat tulips in the frozen tundra of Pakistan?
3. When and how did we meet? Funny story, actually. 3.1761 years ago we were bored one day and both spontaneously decided to hurl ourselves off a cliff into the deep to cease our meaningless existences and rid the world of our adulterated presence (or, as the case may be, jump off the Sunsphere because our parents took away our internet privileges). We climbed up the top, I looked across the giant, copper, blinding ball of mediocrity that is our city’s symbol and sole claim to international fame and I saw you. You seemed to possess radiant beauty, an angel-like silhouette, and an absolutely divine grace I would have only expected from a “waste disposal expert” who’d been hired straight out of prison after a 7year stint for robbing a convenience store with a poisonous twinkie.
4. How have I affected you? You gave me hope for the future. And then you stole it, beat it over the head with a tuna fish, and ripped it, along with all my dreams for the future, into tiny shreds of despair and sadness. And you gave me polio.
5. What do you think of me? I think you’re wonderful. In a “the death of humanity” kinda way.
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? Hmm… I guess it’d have to be that time in Peru where you forgot how to drive a stick properly and, well, long story short, I won $15,000 in a Connect-Four game of epic proportions.
7. How long do you think we will be friends? Until I have both your kidneys.
8. Do you love me? Does a penguin sip cider during full moons and get paid in orange juice to do it?
9. Do you have a crush on me? Crush you? Why on earth would I want to do that? I simply don’t have the body mass.
10. Would you kiss me? I have been meaning to get some artistic inspiration from a 5year stay in our local penitentiary.
11. Would you hug me? With enough layers of clothing, anything’s possible.
12. Physically, what stands out? Your kneecaps.
13. Emotionally, what stands out? Your kneecaps… OF THE SOUL!!!
14. Do you wish I was cooler? Heaven forbid, child, we don’t need a Mer Popsicle!
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? You’re skinny like me. Thus, your bones have a difficult time holding heat for any period of time. Thus, you get a 37 degrees Farenheit.
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Rambo McBananaPeel: Why? I’m not good with nicknames.
17. Am I loveable? With enough layers of clothing, anything’s possible.
18. How long have you known me? Reality says 3.1761 years. My calendar says “To err is human, to forgive without demanding reparations is a grievous crime.”
19. Describe me in one word. Chlorine.
20. What was your first impression? I think it was Monet. But I’m not good with art.
21. Do you still think that way about me now? Oh, of you? No. You’re not wearing a Mountie’s Uniform nor are you speaking in Russian.
22. What do you think my weakness is? You have too many cats in your henhouse, metaphorically of course.
23. Do you think I'll get married? Well, I think it’s legal in Massachusetts. Only time will tell for the rest of the country.
24. What makes me happy? Prozac, vodka, and a whole lot of booty.
25. What makes me sad? Prohibition, dead kittens, and Gustav Mahler.
26. What reminds you of me? Puerto Rico.
27. If you could give me anything what would it be? A picture of Richard Nixon staring into a mirror during the Apocalypse.
28. How well do you know me? Well, Marilyn, I’d have to say pretty well.
29. When's the last time you saw me? Physically, Friday. Mentally, tomorrow.
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? Your hair really was on fire, but you just looked so pretty in that style…
31. Do you think I could kill someone? Can albino chipmunks be trained to suck blood?
32. Are you going to put this on your livejournal and see what I say about you? Only if you promise to lie, mock, and marinate me on every question.
Bonnie:
1. Who are you? I am the alpha. I am the omega. I am THE POWER OF METH!
2. Are we friends? Does a razor open pickle jars with the meticulousness of a walrus on heroine?
3. When and how did we meet? We were in the trenches in Nam, come to think of it. Those Commie B@st@rd5 had us surrounded and you saved our entire units lives by engaging them in a complex philosophical debate on the purpose of earwax in the uberman while I gave them fatal wedgies with a well thrown hand grenade.
4. How have I affected you? Well, I think the scars and missing limbs speak for themselves.
5. What do you think of me? If you were an aquatic mammal, you’d be an elephant.
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? Hmm, I guess it’d have to be the time you killed that guy with his own fingernail clippings. Always thinking of efficiency, is the Bonnie…
7. How long do you think we will be friends? Until you find out what I really buried in your backyard.
8. Do you love me? Does a polar bear enjoy a dip in 24molar HCl every second Tuesday of July?
9. Do you have a crush on me? Well, if you’re reading this, the anvil hasn’t hit yet, has it?
10. Would you kiss me? I don’t want to catch “The Gay!”
11. Would you hug me? The more appropriate question is how could I stop.
12. Physically, what stands out? Leprosy.
13. Emotionally, what stands out? Agoraphobia.
14. Do you wish I was cooler? You’re already making me look bad. If you get much cooler, I’ll have to kill myself out of shame.
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? It depends on how far the disease has progressed.
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Botox von Beertab: Why? Why not?
17. Am I loveable? If the Russians can do it, so can I!
18. How long have you known me? The 70s. 1870s, that is.
19. Describe me in one word. Kleenex
20. What was your first impression? When father told me about “The Mistake in the Delivery Room.”
21. Do you still think that way about me now? If by “that way” you mean sanguine whimsy, then I have no idea what you’re talking about.
22. What do you think my weakness is? You’re not John McCain.
23. Do you think I'll get married? Guns and arsenic can do wonders for one’s love life.
24. What makes me happy? Influenza, curling irons, and dwarven prodigies.
25. What makes me sad? Masochism, flying squid, and Benjamin Harrison.
26. What reminds you of me? Liver and Onions.
27. If you could give me anything what would it be? Mongolia.
28. How well do you know me? You are Prince Charles, right?
29. When's the last time you saw me? Let’s see…. I visited Hell last Tuesday, so I guess… April 17?
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? If I had, you’d still have two lungs.
31. Do you think I could kill someone? It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of how many.
Lauren:
1. Who are you? I am the all. I am the void. I am THE POWER OF TWIG!
2. Are we friends? I prefer the term “Unprofessional Associates of DOOM”, but whatever.
3. When and how did we meet? Remember Germany, 1944? Yeah, neither do I.
4. How have I affected you? All the swears… MAKE THE VOICES STOP!
5. What do you think of me? If you had more superpowers, we’d all be dead.
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? I seem to remember something involving a gargoyle and a hotdog stand. It gets hazy after that.
7. How long do you think we will be friends? If the seagull votes, I’ll eat ketchup.
8. Do you love me? Do harlots sell lapels of solid copper for the price of eternal apathy?
9. Do you have a crush on me? No, but the gorilla will.
10. Would you kiss me? Is that a threat?
11. Would you hug me? If I did, would you stop sending me those severed fingers?
12. Physically, what stands out? Nose hair.
13. Emotionally, what stands out? Your fear of concrete.
14. Do you wish I was cooler? No, I like you with your clothes on.
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? If I had a French president for every time someone asked me that one…
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Tyranny van Mustardseeds
17. Am I loveable? With enough fingernail polish and leiturhosen, without a doubt!
18. How long have you known me? Can we ever really know anyone?
19. Describe me in one word. Hangnail.
20. What was your first impression? A man in a trenchcoat told me he I was chosen to be “The One point One.” I threw up on his shoes.
21. Do you still think that way about me now? Among other vowels, perhaps.
22. What do you think my weakness is? You have no pancreas.
23. Do you think I'll get married? The better question is, do I think you’ll stop.
24. What makes me happy? Peas, the color cyan, and Leonard Nimoy.
25. What makes me sad? Improperly canned tuna, screwdrivers, and Pat Buchanan.
26. What reminds you of me? Illiteracy propaganda
27. If you could give me anything what would it be? A map of Southern Portugal.
28. How well do you know me? Better than you know, Linda.
29. When's the last time you saw me? If I told you, you might start closing your curtains at 3AM every morning.
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? Hey, I think the Berlin Wall needed to stay up. I just didn’t want to break your heart.
31. Do you think I could kill someone? If they have a wallet, a watch, and a toupee I’d be shocked if you didn’t.
Meredith:
1. Who are you? I am the darkness. I am the light. I am … THE POWER OF CHEESE!
2. Are we friends? Does a cow eat tulips in the frozen tundra of Pakistan?
3. When and how did we meet? Funny story, actually. 3.1761 years ago we were bored one day and both spontaneously decided to hurl ourselves off a cliff into the deep to cease our meaningless existences and rid the world of our adulterated presence (or, as the case may be, jump off the Sunsphere because our parents took away our internet privileges). We climbed up the top, I looked across the giant, copper, blinding ball of mediocrity that is our city’s symbol and sole claim to international fame and I saw you. You seemed to possess radiant beauty, an angel-like silhouette, and an absolutely divine grace I would have only expected from a “waste disposal expert” who’d been hired straight out of prison after a 7year stint for robbing a convenience store with a poisonous twinkie.
4. How have I affected you? You gave me hope for the future. And then you stole it, beat it over the head with a tuna fish, and ripped it, along with all my dreams for the future, into tiny shreds of despair and sadness. And you gave me polio.
5. What do you think of me? I think you’re wonderful. In a “the death of humanity” kinda way.
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? Hmm… I guess it’d have to be that time in Peru where you forgot how to drive a stick properly and, well, long story short, I won $15,000 in a Connect-Four game of epic proportions.
7. How long do you think we will be friends? Until I have both your kidneys.
8. Do you love me? Does a penguin sip cider during full moons and get paid in orange juice to do it?
9. Do you have a crush on me? Crush you? Why on earth would I want to do that? I simply don’t have the body mass.
10. Would you kiss me? I have been meaning to get some artistic inspiration from a 5year stay in our local penitentiary.
11. Would you hug me? With enough layers of clothing, anything’s possible.
12. Physically, what stands out? Your kneecaps.
13. Emotionally, what stands out? Your kneecaps… OF THE SOUL!!!
14. Do you wish I was cooler? Heaven forbid, child, we don’t need a Mer Popsicle!
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? You’re skinny like me. Thus, your bones have a difficult time holding heat for any period of time. Thus, you get a 37 degrees Farenheit.
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Rambo McBananaPeel: Why? I’m not good with nicknames.
17. Am I loveable? With enough layers of clothing, anything’s possible.
18. How long have you known me? Reality says 3.1761 years. My calendar says “To err is human, to forgive without demanding reparations is a grievous crime.”
19. Describe me in one word. Chlorine.
20. What was your first impression? I think it was Monet. But I’m not good with art.
21. Do you still think that way about me now? Oh, of you? No. You’re not wearing a Mountie’s Uniform nor are you speaking in Russian.
22. What do you think my weakness is? You have too many cats in your henhouse, metaphorically of course.
23. Do you think I'll get married? Well, I think it’s legal in Massachusetts. Only time will tell for the rest of the country.
24. What makes me happy? Prozac, vodka, and a whole lot of booty.
25. What makes me sad? Prohibition, dead kittens, and Gustav Mahler.
26. What reminds you of me? Puerto Rico.
27. If you could give me anything what would it be? A picture of Richard Nixon staring into a mirror during the Apocalypse.
28. How well do you know me? Well, Marilyn, I’d have to say pretty well.
29. When's the last time you saw me? Physically, Friday. Mentally, tomorrow.
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? Your hair really was on fire, but you just looked so pretty in that style…
31. Do you think I could kill someone? Can albino chipmunks be trained to suck blood?
32. Are you going to put this on your livejournal and see what I say about you? Only if you promise to lie, mock, and marinate me on every question.
Bonnie:
1. Who are you? I am the alpha. I am the omega. I am THE POWER OF METH!
2. Are we friends? Does a razor open pickle jars with the meticulousness of a walrus on heroine?
3. When and how did we meet? We were in the trenches in Nam, come to think of it. Those Commie B@st@rd5 had us surrounded and you saved our entire units lives by engaging them in a complex philosophical debate on the purpose of earwax in the uberman while I gave them fatal wedgies with a well thrown hand grenade.
4. How have I affected you? Well, I think the scars and missing limbs speak for themselves.
5. What do you think of me? If you were an aquatic mammal, you’d be an elephant.
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? Hmm, I guess it’d have to be the time you killed that guy with his own fingernail clippings. Always thinking of efficiency, is the Bonnie…
7. How long do you think we will be friends? Until you find out what I really buried in your backyard.
8. Do you love me? Does a polar bear enjoy a dip in 24molar HCl every second Tuesday of July?
9. Do you have a crush on me? Well, if you’re reading this, the anvil hasn’t hit yet, has it?
10. Would you kiss me? I don’t want to catch “The Gay!”
11. Would you hug me? The more appropriate question is how could I stop.
12. Physically, what stands out? Leprosy.
13. Emotionally, what stands out? Agoraphobia.
14. Do you wish I was cooler? You’re already making me look bad. If you get much cooler, I’ll have to kill myself out of shame.
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? It depends on how far the disease has progressed.
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Botox von Beertab: Why? Why not?
17. Am I loveable? If the Russians can do it, so can I!
18. How long have you known me? The 70s. 1870s, that is.
19. Describe me in one word. Kleenex
20. What was your first impression? When father told me about “The Mistake in the Delivery Room.”
21. Do you still think that way about me now? If by “that way” you mean sanguine whimsy, then I have no idea what you’re talking about.
22. What do you think my weakness is? You’re not John McCain.
23. Do you think I'll get married? Guns and arsenic can do wonders for one’s love life.
24. What makes me happy? Influenza, curling irons, and dwarven prodigies.
25. What makes me sad? Masochism, flying squid, and Benjamin Harrison.
26. What reminds you of me? Liver and Onions.
27. If you could give me anything what would it be? Mongolia.
28. How well do you know me? You are Prince Charles, right?
29. When's the last time you saw me? Let’s see…. I visited Hell last Tuesday, so I guess… April 17?
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? If I had, you’d still have two lungs.
31. Do you think I could kill someone? It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of how many.
Lauren:
1. Who are you? I am the all. I am the void. I am THE POWER OF TWIG!
2. Are we friends? I prefer the term “Unprofessional Associates of DOOM”, but whatever.
3. When and how did we meet? Remember Germany, 1944? Yeah, neither do I.
4. How have I affected you? All the swears… MAKE THE VOICES STOP!
5. What do you think of me? If you had more superpowers, we’d all be dead.
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? I seem to remember something involving a gargoyle and a hotdog stand. It gets hazy after that.
7. How long do you think we will be friends? If the seagull votes, I’ll eat ketchup.
8. Do you love me? Do harlots sell lapels of solid copper for the price of eternal apathy?
9. Do you have a crush on me? No, but the gorilla will.
10. Would you kiss me? Is that a threat?
11. Would you hug me? If I did, would you stop sending me those severed fingers?
12. Physically, what stands out? Nose hair.
13. Emotionally, what stands out? Your fear of concrete.
14. Do you wish I was cooler? No, I like you with your clothes on.
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? If I had a French president for every time someone asked me that one…
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Tyranny van Mustardseeds
17. Am I loveable? With enough fingernail polish and leiturhosen, without a doubt!
18. How long have you known me? Can we ever really know anyone?
19. Describe me in one word. Hangnail.
20. What was your first impression? A man in a trenchcoat told me he I was chosen to be “The One point One.” I threw up on his shoes.
21. Do you still think that way about me now? Among other vowels, perhaps.
22. What do you think my weakness is? You have no pancreas.
23. Do you think I'll get married? The better question is, do I think you’ll stop.
24. What makes me happy? Peas, the color cyan, and Leonard Nimoy.
25. What makes me sad? Improperly canned tuna, screwdrivers, and Pat Buchanan.
26. What reminds you of me? Illiteracy propaganda
27. If you could give me anything what would it be? A map of Southern Portugal.
28. How well do you know me? Better than you know, Linda.
29. When's the last time you saw me? If I told you, you might start closing your curtains at 3AM every morning.
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? Hey, I think the Berlin Wall needed to stay up. I just didn’t want to break your heart.
31. Do you think I could kill someone? If they have a wallet, a watch, and a toupee I’d be shocked if you didn’t.
My first survey...
(Irrevence preferred. If you fill it out seriously, I'll probably get angry, pick a fight with a ten year old girl scout, and delete it once I get out of prison. Be creative! (Email it to me and I'll make an entry with the results. Haloscan won't allow an excess of 1000characters. deepfrieddyl@yahoo.com))
1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. How have I affected you?
5. What do you think of me?
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me?
7. How long do you think we will be friends?
8. Do you love me?
9. Do you have a crush on me?
10. Would you kiss me?
11. Would you hug me?
12. Physically, what stands out?
13. Emotionally, what stands out?
14. Do you wish I was cooler?
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I?
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
17. Am I loveable?
18. How long have you known me?
19. Describe me in one word.
20. What was your first impression?
21. Do you still think that way about me now?
22. What do you think my weakness is?
23. Do you think I'll get married?
24. What makes me happy?
25. What makes me sad?
26. What reminds you of me?
27. If you could give me anything what would it be?
28. How well do you know me?
29. When's the last time you saw me?
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
31. Do you think I could kill someone?
1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. How have I affected you?
5. What do you think of me?
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me?
7. How long do you think we will be friends?
8. Do you love me?
9. Do you have a crush on me?
10. Would you kiss me?
11. Would you hug me?
12. Physically, what stands out?
13. Emotionally, what stands out?
14. Do you wish I was cooler?
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I?
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
17. Am I loveable?
18. How long have you known me?
19. Describe me in one word.
20. What was your first impression?
21. Do you still think that way about me now?
22. What do you think my weakness is?
23. Do you think I'll get married?
24. What makes me happy?
25. What makes me sad?
26. What reminds you of me?
27. If you could give me anything what would it be?
28. How well do you know me?
29. When's the last time you saw me?
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
31. Do you think I could kill someone?
Friday, October 8
Thursday, October 7
BUSY!!!
I've got a weekend that looks to be horrible. It's the sort of thing I thought only happened to unlucky kids like Ellen and Caitlin.
Friday: Canterbury Tales minutia test (UGH), Calculus Test (Meh), Football Game at Powell (Hoo-bleh)
Saturday: SAT (AARRRRGGGGG), Hitch a ride to Crossville (Hobo!), Marching competition (Capitalism for the win!)
Sunday: College Apps (all two of em) (GGRRR)
So if I'm irate, please forgive me (read the poem, if it helps). Hopefully I'll survive. If not, divide my money between you. And live happy lives for me! Heh, see ya later.
Friday: Canterbury Tales minutia test (UGH), Calculus Test (Meh), Football Game at Powell (Hoo-bleh)
Saturday: SAT (AARRRRGGGGG), Hitch a ride to Crossville (Hobo!), Marching competition (Capitalism for the win!)
Sunday: College Apps (all two of em) (GGRRR)
So if I'm irate, please forgive me (read the poem, if it helps). Hopefully I'll survive. If not, divide my money between you. And live happy lives for me! Heh, see ya later.
Wednesday, October 6
Order and Chaos
It's not just a Marching Show! Tonight was Amy's party. And, as usual in orderless social situations, I froze up and became my little introverted self. Most of my conversations involve little real content; I prefer the creative, imaginative kind. So when I'm in a position where it doesn't work or it's likely to be ridiculed instead of cultivated, I have to drop it. I don't really talk about other people (if I can help it), and my small talk is pretty useless.
It's odd, I didn't make the connection as clearly, but I really am an order and certainty freak. That's why it distresses me so when people don't know how they're getting home. It's unimaginable to me how someone can go through the day and not have these things planned. I'm a planner and a worrier. I just can't relax and let things flow. Yet. I'll have to work on it...
I got a book at the library. A fantasy one, risque' no less. It sounds good enough, maybe I'll finish it. I also thought of an idea for a story the other night that might be an interesting vent for my frustrations. But it's sure going to be insulting and disturbing to everyone that reads it. I'll write most of it before posting the blog, if I ever get around to it though, so don't look for it anytime soon. Depressing, dreary, un-funny... The side of me I need to purge. Maybe this will help. Or maybe not. Cheers either way!
It's odd, I didn't make the connection as clearly, but I really am an order and certainty freak. That's why it distresses me so when people don't know how they're getting home. It's unimaginable to me how someone can go through the day and not have these things planned. I'm a planner and a worrier. I just can't relax and let things flow. Yet. I'll have to work on it...
I got a book at the library. A fantasy one, risque' no less. It sounds good enough, maybe I'll finish it. I also thought of an idea for a story the other night that might be an interesting vent for my frustrations. But it's sure going to be insulting and disturbing to everyone that reads it. I'll write most of it before posting the blog, if I ever get around to it though, so don't look for it anytime soon. Depressing, dreary, un-funny... The side of me I need to purge. Maybe this will help. Or maybe not. Cheers either way!
Monday, October 4
Another Day
Another procrastination (from Calculus, as usual). What was my life like before I wasn't worrying about the future or college? Ever since I woke up (figuratively, not this morning ya bums) the future's been on my mind entirely too much. Ironic, since I have most of it planned. This whole college thing is just annoying me to no end. Last week more complications were thrown into the mix, and it further re-affirmed my desire for simplicity. And yet, I feel as if they have the potential to make the entire situation better too. Odd, no?
Today I went and got my sideburns shaved. I think I'll let them grow back, unless popular consensus argues otherwise. I sort of view as my tri-monthly cleansing of sin. If I didn't, the hair would overrun my face; it's uppity with a mind of its own. So this is a culling of the rebellion, but not a complete annihilation. They will rise again. As will my various sins and regrets. My face is uninhibited, but the potential remains. The Dastardly Dyl and his Sideburns of Sorrow pillaging the world on the Sails of Sin along with the Mutionous Mer and thier scurvy crew. Or something. It's all in revision. Certain people need pirate names, too... Good thing we're thinking ahead, eh?
Speaking of purging, I've apparently lost weight. I'm down from about 117 during the summer to 110lbs. I guess I'll have to start focusing on eating. Those walks might actually have harmful effects above those of contemplative discord.
Meh, night's too full. Too disjointed. Later.
Today I went and got my sideburns shaved. I think I'll let them grow back, unless popular consensus argues otherwise. I sort of view as my tri-monthly cleansing of sin. If I didn't, the hair would overrun my face; it's uppity with a mind of its own. So this is a culling of the rebellion, but not a complete annihilation. They will rise again. As will my various sins and regrets. My face is uninhibited, but the potential remains. The Dastardly Dyl and his Sideburns of Sorrow pillaging the world on the Sails of Sin along with the Mutionous Mer and thier scurvy crew. Or something. It's all in revision. Certain people need pirate names, too... Good thing we're thinking ahead, eh?
Speaking of purging, I've apparently lost weight. I'm down from about 117 during the summer to 110lbs. I guess I'll have to start focusing on eating. Those walks might actually have harmful effects above those of contemplative discord.
Meh, night's too full. Too disjointed. Later.
Sunday, October 3
National Merit Essay (For your reading...whatever)
“Be something great. Be a senator, have power, fame, and actually make a difference. Be a comedian, entertain millions, make people laugh. Be a novelist, fight the eternal war of the individual vs. society, spread different perspectives and ideals, challenge minds and perceptions. Be a CEO and have wealth, security, and luxury. Be a rocket scientist, act as a pioneer into the great unknown that is our universe, advance the human race as never before. I don’t care, but for God’s sake, be something worthwhile!” Choices aren’t as great as they’re made out to be. Yes, it would seem if my biased friends and family are to be believed, I’m capable of anything I really put my mind to. Although the above fictional statement is a bit of hyperbole, to them I might be somewhat of a disappointment; wasted potential seeking an easy way to coast through life. Of all the possible ways one can influence the world, why would you choose to throw yourself away on something so futile?
I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind, ride the bucking bronco of life, and realize my full potential as a human being. I want to be a high school math teacher. Humble, I know, but a profession is only as limited as you make it. I want to participate in aspects of all those lofty careers and goals mentioned above, but unfortunately there is only so much one can learn and do in one lifetime. Thus, I’ve decided to combine aspects of them all in a rather unlikely area.
Impossible? Perhaps. But I’m certainly going to try. A teacher is not just a living tool of knowledge, used to cram a myriad of facts and theorems into stubbornly unyielding minds. A teacher is a staple of a student’s life. In one of the most critical times of a person’s development, teachers can have an astounding effect on one’s goals, beliefs, and very personality. It’s no coincidence that I chose to be a teacher after all; I had my own inspiration.
I want to entertain. I want to show that enthusiasm for any subject can make it not only interesting, but entertaining, humorous, and meaningful. I want to make a noticeable difference. A math test that tells a story? Preposterous. Using acting as a viable teaching method? Absurd. Making school less stressful, yet still effective and captivating? A pipe dream. Proving all of these assertions wrong? I’m certainly going to try!
My goals are set. Given what little I know about the teenage mind, they certainly do sound more like fantasy than feasible proposals. But similar attempts made an undeniable impact on me. Why should everyone else be so different?
I want to have fun. Forget wealth, power, fame, and grand artistic achievement. Give me a dry-erase board, a straw hat, a fake country accent, an audience, and a good math problem, and I’ll repay your tax dollars tenfold. Or have a fantastic time trying.
I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind, ride the bucking bronco of life, and realize my full potential as a human being. I want to be a high school math teacher. Humble, I know, but a profession is only as limited as you make it. I want to participate in aspects of all those lofty careers and goals mentioned above, but unfortunately there is only so much one can learn and do in one lifetime. Thus, I’ve decided to combine aspects of them all in a rather unlikely area.
Impossible? Perhaps. But I’m certainly going to try. A teacher is not just a living tool of knowledge, used to cram a myriad of facts and theorems into stubbornly unyielding minds. A teacher is a staple of a student’s life. In one of the most critical times of a person’s development, teachers can have an astounding effect on one’s goals, beliefs, and very personality. It’s no coincidence that I chose to be a teacher after all; I had my own inspiration.
I want to entertain. I want to show that enthusiasm for any subject can make it not only interesting, but entertaining, humorous, and meaningful. I want to make a noticeable difference. A math test that tells a story? Preposterous. Using acting as a viable teaching method? Absurd. Making school less stressful, yet still effective and captivating? A pipe dream. Proving all of these assertions wrong? I’m certainly going to try!
My goals are set. Given what little I know about the teenage mind, they certainly do sound more like fantasy than feasible proposals. But similar attempts made an undeniable impact on me. Why should everyone else be so different?
I want to have fun. Forget wealth, power, fame, and grand artistic achievement. Give me a dry-erase board, a straw hat, a fake country accent, an audience, and a good math problem, and I’ll repay your tax dollars tenfold. Or have a fantastic time trying.
Friday, October 1
People who know People
Are probably quite confused. Today was... interesting. My long week came to a dramatic conclusion with me getting cranky and sullen, fatigued by my contacts and generally in a tired, misanthropic mood. It was brightened by some pleasant people, but knowing me I had to look for acid rain in the silver lined clouds.
I don't like falling into my hateful slumps. They're generally caused by odd combinations of outward hate targetted in my general direction, doubt, fatigue (mental and physical), and stress . They happen, and I gradually become more shelled and lethargic. Really they're more evidence of my probably bi-polarity. The opposite can also be true, where I'm ecstatic and have very little self-control. Both seemed triggered by social situations and fed by hate/approval depending on the mood. It's a byproduct off my need for approval/dislike for disapproval. They're basic human qualities, I suppose, but it seems like I can be affected a lot more by them than some other people. For instance, I generally try to make people laugh. When I can't, it disturbs me, lowers my general mood setting, and makes me feel as if I'm failing. It's one of the reasons I idealistically avoid conversations/voluntary social interaction: I don't like to feel like I'm failing. It's really an interesting flaw. Go figure.
But I was slightly cheered by talking to other people. I tried to feed off their positive energy. It's odd how some people can be so... different depending on the environment and atmosphere. I'm a good example, what with my mood swings. The difference between real life and online is noticeable too. Online I'm more well-spoken and can come up with more randomness. In real life, I can be wilder and more active, which can be good or bad (depending on if yelling "WE HATES THE FIRE" is embarrasing to you. Lee). Obviously the medium makes a difference, but it's certainly odd nevertheless.
Instead of going to the dance (I don't like loud, cramped, pointless social gatherings), I walked on the Third Creek track. It was genuinely frightening. The uncertainty, the possibilities, my annoying imagination. I formed all sorts of scenarios where I'd be ambushed by concealed drunken frat boys or FBI ninjas or the like and robbed, murdered, or , even worse, forced to dance to rap. It was even worse when the train came. It was eeire, the noise, the darkness, the disturbing realization that no one could hear me scream when the leaves parted and a regular Yeti came to drag me to his ocean layer and use me as a tax write-off as his common-law wife. "But Dylan, there's no ocean around here," you obstinately proclaim. Well, dear reader, you haven't spent much time in the Yeti underground blackmarket have you? No. You haven't. So quit your sass, alright? Good.
Well, I suppose I'll head to bed. It's been a long week. Too long. And yet, very little was accomplished. It's a metaphor for life! Just like trains. And ... everything. I need to relax. Someone teach me how. Please?
I don't like falling into my hateful slumps. They're generally caused by odd combinations of outward hate targetted in my general direction, doubt, fatigue (mental and physical), and stress . They happen, and I gradually become more shelled and lethargic. Really they're more evidence of my probably bi-polarity. The opposite can also be true, where I'm ecstatic and have very little self-control. Both seemed triggered by social situations and fed by hate/approval depending on the mood. It's a byproduct off my need for approval/dislike for disapproval. They're basic human qualities, I suppose, but it seems like I can be affected a lot more by them than some other people. For instance, I generally try to make people laugh. When I can't, it disturbs me, lowers my general mood setting, and makes me feel as if I'm failing. It's one of the reasons I idealistically avoid conversations/voluntary social interaction: I don't like to feel like I'm failing. It's really an interesting flaw. Go figure.
But I was slightly cheered by talking to other people. I tried to feed off their positive energy. It's odd how some people can be so... different depending on the environment and atmosphere. I'm a good example, what with my mood swings. The difference between real life and online is noticeable too. Online I'm more well-spoken and can come up with more randomness. In real life, I can be wilder and more active, which can be good or bad (depending on if yelling "WE HATES THE FIRE" is embarrasing to you. Lee). Obviously the medium makes a difference, but it's certainly odd nevertheless.
Instead of going to the dance (I don't like loud, cramped, pointless social gatherings), I walked on the Third Creek track. It was genuinely frightening. The uncertainty, the possibilities, my annoying imagination. I formed all sorts of scenarios where I'd be ambushed by concealed drunken frat boys or FBI ninjas or the like and robbed, murdered, or , even worse, forced to dance to rap. It was even worse when the train came. It was eeire, the noise, the darkness, the disturbing realization that no one could hear me scream when the leaves parted and a regular Yeti came to drag me to his ocean layer and use me as a tax write-off as his common-law wife. "But Dylan, there's no ocean around here," you obstinately proclaim. Well, dear reader, you haven't spent much time in the Yeti underground blackmarket have you? No. You haven't. So quit your sass, alright? Good.
Well, I suppose I'll head to bed. It's been a long week. Too long. And yet, very little was accomplished. It's a metaphor for life! Just like trains. And ... everything. I need to relax. Someone teach me how. Please?