Thirty. One.

Cancer is a scary thing to deal with. Not just for the person, but the people surrounding that person. For some reason, I never thought about the hardships faced romantically by the people on either side. Think about it. A person with cancer knows their disease could get better. But could also get worse to a point beyond repair. And yet, they still want what we all ultimately want: love. And they probably want it more than most, because they may not have alot of time left on this earth. However, there are major hardships that may prevent them from obtaining that. The first being that people may look at them and feel sorry for them. Or pity. Ultimately, I feel that sympathy, in any situation, is utterly useless. I mean what, "I'm sorry you have a tumor in your chest and that you may die from it? Wish there was something I could do?" What they hell is that doing for anyone?

The other problems actually are a joint hardship between the sick individual and whoever he/she is pursuing a relationship with. And they all revolve outside of the two individuals. Namely, the other individual's family. The family may think the person with cancer is looking for a crutch. That is someone they can, in a nutshell, dump their shit on. They feel the sick person is looking for someone to take care of them. The other problem is that they don't want to see their loved one to get hurt.
Which is understandable. However, seeing as nobody is psychic, we can't truly forsee what the future holds for the two individuals. And we don't know what will happen to the person suffering from cancer.

My point?

Dating someone with cancer, or any terminal illness for that matter is a challenge. But there are plenty of worse off situations in which neither party may be suffering from disease, but can cause one or both people harm. Abusive relationships, homosexual relationships, polyamorous relationships, etc.

Should we alienate someone suffering from a terminal illness just to protect our own well-being? And where do we draw the line that divides the acceptable from the unacceptable? Especially when every illness has the potential of growing life threatening. If I'm dating a girl and she catches swine flu or pneumonia, do I cut her off?

Thirty.

The snow is here! And I'm highly pissed! Lol jack frost, bitch that he is, has cheated me out of yet another white christmas. Instead i'll be lucky if i get a gray xmas. you know, the color the snow turns several days and a snowplow later. sooo not cool.

In other news, I'm back. No, seriously. I've been locked away in the City of My Mind lately, dealing with a few demons and ghouls. And vampires of course. Cause everything has vampires these days. It's a bit of an overkill don't you think? What I've learned from this new vampire fetish America has been swept by ( I say America because Europe and Asia have long accepted the existence of mythical creatures) is that Twilight should've remained a book series only. Excellent story (great job Ms. Myers) and the characters are memorable. However, the movies so far a punk-emo-soap opera debacle that serve as an eye-candy festival for all female and male worshippers who've dedicated their lives to either Team Jacob or Team Edward. I've also learned, thanks to true blood, that vampires are indeed the freakiest creatures on the planet. The only reason their existence still remains a myth is that our weak mortal forms cannot withstand their voracious sexual appetites. Thus, we die before we can run to our friends and scream, "Vampire head is the best!!!!!!"

Ok, now that we've gotten that tangent over and done with lol, let's move on. I am back to blogging. In fact I have to other blogs set up, both of which are stories I'm currently working on. Not to mention the two other stories I'm working on not through a blog but good old microsoft word. I'm not sure what happened, seeing as how I was aimlessly driven to make writing my career, but suddenly direction appeared. And ever since, I've been writing, constantly. All I can say is, I truly know this is what I was meant to do. And I no longer feel scared about doing it.

last but not least, Tiger Woods. I have too lol. It's my humblest opinion that the entire world leaves this dude alone. Who cares who he slept with? If he was smart enough to not get caught, kudos to him. Do i condone it? No. But don't turn these mistresses of his into ten second celebrities. We already have Jon and Kate. And an army of Dancing With The Stars contestants. And a number of rappers' baby mamas. What the media should do is give fame to people that are actually doing something interesting. And that's pretty much anyone not being mentioned in the tabloids.

Twenty. Nine.

Anger. Sadness. Fear. Happiness. Excitement. Confusion. There are so many different kinds of emotions that we can feel. Some lift us up to unimaginable heights while others devastate us beyond repair. Today I came to a realization that out of all the emotions I feel and have felt, it's the feeling of Helplessness that truly brings me down to that point of no return.

Earlier today, my mother and I had a conversation. My mother is currently going through a period of self-exploration and rediscovery. However, in doing so she has unlocked the door to dark memories she had tried very hard to forget. And the pain that resurfaced from these memories can be so great, it cripples her. I mean she falls apart, man. Now usually, I know what to do, what to say, and how to comfort her. But today was different. Today my mother scared me, and not because of what she was saying. Because the pain that she felt was so great, I couldn't reach her. No amount of comforting and support was enough to make things right. I felt so helpless. Because the entire situation was completely out of my control. I didn't know how to help my mother feel better. And that hurt more than anything.

Then, a few minutes ago, my mom and I had a converstation with my best friend, Keen. And it was brought to light that keen had a few problems of his own, both physical and emotional, that he had been holding in for the last couple of weeks. At first, I was angry that he didn't reach out to me. Angry that he was the kind of guy who could be hemorrhaging and would act like he just won the lottery. And angry that I was angry at him, because there was nothing I could do about any of it. Ultimately, I could only help my friend if he let me or, more importantly, if he chose to help himself. Outside of that, there was nothing I could say or do for him that could change the state he was in. And once again came that crippling feeling that I could be of no help.

My point is, I always had a tendency to want to help people. I hate conflict, and I hate seeing people suffer. So if I can help alleviate it, I'll do whatever I can. But today I had to face the reality that I can't heal the world, and every problem is not mine to fix. And that fact really sucks. But then I guess if things worked that way, I'd be winning the Nobel Peace Prize constantly.

Twenty. Eight.

Powerhouse.

I was there yesterday and let me tell you, it ROCKED. So me being the charming individual I am, allow me to share the fact that I suffered the entire 6 hours with a serious case of the beegees (so serious) and did not leave my seat once. That's how good it was.

Mario. Jadakiss. Keri Hilson. Jay-Z. Day 26. Trey Songz. etc, etc. Not to mention guest appearances from Memphis Bleek. Styles P. Beanie. YOUNGBLOODZ! etc, etc. It was really everything I wanted it to be and more.

Hands down, the best performance of the night was Jay-Z. Amazing, how even in Philly, every. single. person got the livest for Jay. Just goes to show you that regardless of the names given to the places we live, the imaginary lines drawn that separate New Yorkers, Jerseys, Philladelphians and every other group existing in the world, music does and will always continue to erase every barrier the physical world places in our lives.

Me being a brooklyn native, I was standing on my seat, wildin out. Singing every line to every song. Looking like a possessed fan lol. It was just that good.

Powerhouse. I will definitely be going back next year.

Twenty.Seven.

You know what show I love and hate to watch simultaneously? The Real World. I think it's so cool that a bunch of random individuals get to spend four months together in one house in one awesome city. HOWEVER. They're a bunch of spoiled asses. Think about it, they don't have to pay bills. They don't have to buy furniture (even if they break it). They can do damn near whatever they want until their jobs start, and even then it's not unbearable (the closest thing to unbearable was this season's cast working as chaperones for college kids during spring break) by a long shot. Yet they whine and fight with one another like a bunch of school kids. Seriously. This season was so outrageous, I was either laughing hysterically or flat-out disgusted.

Why? If you have a roommate that suffers from ADHD and you got into an argument, would you result to telling them to "Go take their Adderall?" I mean seriously. And who wouldn't laugh at a drunk friend who steps out onto the hotel balcony to toss a FIRE EXTINGUISHER into the pool? Sure, it would be a serious matter later, but initially, that shit would be hilarious! Or my personal favorite. Why get into an argument with some girl you hate when you can just SPIT in her food! I mean seriously, I think a lung would have burst from me laughing so hard at her expression alone!

Anyway, I think it would be cool to have a pad to share with a bunch of my friends. I mean there's Save, Keen, Shy, Hugo, Nelman, Marlon, Jalyn, Tiana, Jason, Sharina, Jessica, Kelley, Nick, Malcolm, Cassie, Ferg, Jo, Nay, Steve, etc, etc. The list goes on and on. Any combination would surely be awesome. I'm sure we could outdo the Real Worlders any day. Pansy asses. Lol. Ok, that's my random rant for the night. Take what you will from it.

Twenty.Six.

Family is a confusing thing isn't it?? It's never something you ever feel 100% about. I mean sure, you have movies like "Soul Food". "The Preacher's Wife". And every Tyler Perry movie that is and ever will be in existence reminding us of the importance of family with some warm and fuzzy conclusion. But let's be real.

We don't start out despising our families from the innermost depths of our souls. Nor do we entirely love them with the most powerful palpitations of our hearts. More often than not, we sit on the fence. Or rather, we act like a bed of hot coals are waiting for us to lean to one side or the other. Is it wrong? No. It's human. We're designed to take things for granted. And perhaps that's why family is so beautiful.

Today I realized just how much I take for granted when it comes to family. I was stunned and ashamed at the realization that I don't tell my mom and siblings I love them enough. How I always choose to distance myself from them just to avoid a difficult discussion or a current problem I may have. I shelter myself so much within my family's negatives rather than it's positives. And I use that as fuel to keep dancing on the side of coals marked "anger and frustration" instead of jumping to the side of "contentment and appreciation" every now and then.

Is my family bad? No. Do they hate me? No. Do they look down on me? No. Am I scared they don't get me? Yes. Would I rather not voice my opinions? Yes. Am I estranging our relationship due to my insecurities? Yes.

And I'm honestly tired of it. For the simple fact that it isn't getting me anywhere and it's done more harm than good. I spent so much time going at it with them, rebelling for no rhyme and reason instead of just telling them how I felt. Thus, I ended up making my life more difficult, as well as making myself that much more difficult for them to understand.

My point?

Family isn't some deadly airborne disease bent on wiping out mankind. It's not that girl-from-the-party-whose-name-you-forgot that's calling you to tell you she's pregnant. Family isn't your real-life version of Michael Myers, either. Quite frankly, there's a shitload of things worse than family.

Even if the coals on the other side of the fence may burn just as hot, at least on that side you have a group of people there to patch you up.

Twenty. Five. Hell Yeah.

And they say you can't come back from the dead. LOL

It's been a while guys, gals and rejects. Where have i been? Well, I would like to tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. So, with that being said, all i will say is, intergalactic warships, various extraterrestria (yes, i just made that up), and a near apocalyptic cataclysm. Yeah, it's just that serious lol. And during all that, I also came down with a mean case of writer's block, to say the least.

I'm currently listening to my new myspace playlist (which is awesome as usual) and I have to say....the main song pretty sums up my mindset right about now. Rather than tell you what it's about, just go to my page and have a listen. Or for those of you who would rather not, just check out "Weightless" by All Time Low.

(CAUTION: LISTENING TO SONG MAY RESULT IN REBELLIOUS ATTITUDES, DESIRES FOR CHANGE, AND A MEAN CASE OF "FUCK OFF, I'M DOING WHAT I WANT" SYNDROME.)

In other news, I'm delving into three business ventures. For now. That number may very well increase. Let's just say when you take off a semester, you have two options: watch the grass grow, or use the free time wisely. Which would you prefer?

I've decided I want to move out in the very near future. It's simply necessity at this time. Perhaps it's that hyperactive stubborness that is associated with teenagers/young adults. Whatever. My life. My problem. Very simple, no?

Twenty.Four.

Note: So I'll dedicate this a certain someone whose name I will not say *cough* Amanda *cough*

Women are truly god's gift to men (and these days, other women) everywhere. I mean really, they're just so...beautiful. Truly works of art. But they can also be so EVIL. or DEMENTED. or just flat out CRAZY. But other than those three things, women are beautiful. lol.

ok, in all seriousness though, I think one of the greatest challenges for a guy is to find a women that is half-decent. That is to say, a woman that speaks our language. Or at least understands it (and has the patience for it). A woman whose assets include not only her body, but her personality and mind as well. Mind you, this goes for relationships on all levels. I would not want to be friends with a woman whose personality and mind IS her body. Nor would would I want a relationship with such a woman. However, hot and steamy relations? Definitely (but that's to talk about in another blog lol)!

No, every now and then you run into a girl who isn't just half-decent, but pretty amazing. Take the certain someone who's name does not appear at the top of this blog. The story of how we met is funny, but that too is for another blog. However, the girl in question, is, thus far, quite amazing. Why? Well allow me to process that information in the order that it pops into my mind.

She has blue eyes. I don't mean dead, fishy, blue eyes. I mean a pair of the most captivating blue eyes I've ever seen. She's a brunette! And we all know that brunettes have more fun than blondes, are wilder than redheads, and still kinda sweet. She's tall, in fact she models. So yeah. lol.

As I pick up my jaw, let's move on. She can cook, sing, and act! I will always maintain the arts to be the ultimate aphrodisiac. She can be pretty goofy, but also very sarcastic, which is awesome, cause she can hold her own against me! Which, if you've been reading my blogs, is a hard thing to do. Overall though, she's a very chill individual, who's straightforward, and generally happy. The fact that she can get someone like me to smile on occasion, says it all. She loves music just as much as I do, even though we have two completely different pallets for it.

The funny thing of it all, is that we haven't actually hungout yet! Outside of when I first saw her at my job, our conversations have been the ultimate textfests. With facebooking here and there. And for some reason, we aren't bored of each other yet. Nor have we driven each other insane.

Every now and then you come across a girl that you really, well, like. And so far, this certain someone is that girl. Where this goes, is as good a guess as any, but if it's just a little lucky for a guy to find himself a half-decent girl, then something tells me that maybe, just maybe, i've hit the jackpot.

Twenty.Three.

"A picture speaks a thousand words."

*sighs*

Ever meet a person who lives by that? I have. Many times over. And in my opinion, they're the most depressing people ever. They're the people who after a relationship has long crashed and burned, hit up their ex (or exes) for pictures hot enough to cause their phone to shortcircuit. Or that friend who has photos in his/her room that dwells on what they deem to be "the good times"...the ONLY good times in their lives. That family member that always pulls out some embarassing wallet of you, going on and on about how they wish you had stayed that way, how you were 'so cute' back then.

*YAWN!*

And try to tell those people to get over themselves and they will at some point or another make it known that they're social rejects who can't accept the fact that time goes on. Life comes and goes. They will insist that pictures last a lifetime, when in fact, the concrete places and individuals that make the pictures special, are going on with their existence. And the clock keeps ticking. Then those same people wake up one day and say, "Where did the time go?"

I'm a fan of the real thing. I love when I first experience something. I love when we are friends, a couple, or kids. But I also know it'll come and pass. And there's no changing that. True, the real thing may be temporary, but that's why it's precious in the first place. Pictures exist so we can look back on the good times, the good people, the good places. Not so we can try to swim backwards in a sea that keeps rushing forward.

Pictures may be worth a thousand words...but the moments that make them are worth an eternity.

Twenty.Two.

So I'm on that ill depressive mode right now. I'm in need of money, seriously. I know, we're in a recession so everybody is moneyhungry and pocketgrungy, but I'm feeling more restricted than usual right now. Like my life has slowed to a crawl because I like the money to otherwise make that happen, ya dig?? Makes no sense? Check this:

I live in Willingboro, aka the suburbs, aka not the city. That means, transportation is limited to a car (if you have one), and a crappy bus system (yeah Burlink) i'm coming at you. Outside of that is the Transit, but like i said, me llamo el broko. So with no money to get to Philly, or my original home and personal preference, New York City, I'm forced to make do what I have around me. Which is lots and lots of....houses. In this town your options are as follows: work, chill at the crib, drink, smoke, party, have sex, sell drugs, walk around aimlessly. Oh yeah, definitely routes to making it as a writer. Or anything for that matter. See where I'm getting at?

Anyway, school is coming up, and my summer, which i planned on devoting to my writing, went to shit as a result of no money. I don't drive yet, and even if I had my license (testing the 21st of this month) I have no whip. Sooo, where's the silver lining??

Well, I'm naturally stubborn, headstrong, and not prone to standing still. So even though my situation may look sorta wack at the moment, I will get the ball rolling by the end of the fall semester. I will get out to philly and nyc to hit up some poetry cafes, studios, and whatever else my writing can reach for. I will get where I want to be. I will get that license. And a car to get me from point A to point B. And most of all, I'll keep my head above water, even as everything around me is trying to drag me down.

Twenty.One.

I was debating how I'd start numbering everything once twenty-once came about. And what you see above is what I came up with. Didn't make much sense to confuse people with dashes and shit. Though innovation can be a good thing, tradition never goes out of style.

So, I was on facebook today and it was amazing how long some of my friend's status lines are. I mean not just long. REALLY LONG. like next great American novel long. I mean seriously, what are you writing? There's only so many ways to say "Babe, I love you" or "My day is going crappy". I personally don't care about the temperature outside when your dog ran away. Nor does the thread count on that shirt you bought astound me. Seriously, if you want to ramble on about nothingness, do what I do, and blog. Otherwise, keep you statuses short and sweet. Funny and to the point will get way more attention than the potential script for "The Notebook 2".

The other day, I got a hickie. *Gasp* I know end of the world right?? So being me, I began to contemplate the meaning of the word 'hickey'. I mean, the word is so....scandalous sounding, you know? So i deemed a more appropriate term would be "Consensual sexual abuse". Think about it for a sec.

Today I pulled off the impossible. I didn't procrastinate. Any further that is lol. I scheduled for my classes this fall, put in the appeal for my finanacial aid (I know, bad Brandon) and changed my major. To what? Why communications!!!! That way, I can still write and pay the bills. Until I write the actual script for "The Notebook 2" lol.

Ok, that's it for now. But before I go, allow me to leave you with a not-so-intersting tidbit: 'osh posh' is a term that means a group or collection of something. Now use it with your friends and see what happens. LATER!

Twenty.

Wow. The big 2-0. You know, I honestly didn't think I'd keep up this consistently. 20 posts may not seem much in the likes of "no-lifer" bloggers like Perez Hilton (ugh), but for someone like me, who's rollercoaster life tends to prevent any form of consistency, this is pretty amazing. I hope you guys have enjoyed my bloggage, cause there's more to come.

Speaking of consistency, I feel the need to voice something. By asking a question: How many of you guys have been told by someone that you "aren't trying hard enough" or aren't "dedicated enough" because "they don't see 'it'"? What is 'it' exactly? Why 'it' is the effort; the blood, sweat and tears put into an object of your passion. Or at least that's holding your attention. Well it happens to me all the time. And I know that until I write the next New York Times bestseller, or become the ghostwriter for Ne-yo's ghostwriting (lol), I will be faced with those remarks of doubt.

However, to do just that, one thing that is necessary...is consistency. The grind is neverending. The research everexpanding. The talent always evolving. I think success really comes down to reaction time. Can you build up to your goal faster than people are tearing it down? And only consistency can give you the chance to do that. Unless you win the lottery, golden opportunities and sweepstakes regularly.

My point, is that whether you're just keeping a blog up to date or keeping your eye on the prize, things will halt to a screeching stop without the consistent 'it' that your family, friends, co-workers, and enemies all deem you don't have enough of.

Nineteen.

You know what really grinds my gears? People who say "you know what really grinds my gears?"

Anyway, last night I was talking to one of my close friends. He, who I will call "Michael" (not his real name), explained to me that he's talking to my other friend, who I will call "Jane" (not her real name), and that he's been receiving mixed opinions from his friends. *GASP* Naturally that's to be expected. However, to date, all said problems are coming from other females that have their own issues with Jane.

What I find interesting is how quickly people let their own personal grudges determine what they do or say. Namely, those who are telling Michael he should "be careful" or that Jane "doesn't stay in a relationship for long" are all talking from their own personal feelings, and not from any vantage point at all. In fact, most of these girls haven't seen or talked to Jane in over a year! So what does that say? You've been harboring feelings against one girl, for the last 365+ days for what reason? And now you're going to feed Michael, you're supposed friend, a bunch of negativity because of that? Get over yourselves.

As I told Michael, if they are really his friends, they'll still be there for him even if he decides to go out with Jane. Though they may not like it, as his friends, those girls should still respect his decision. If they choose to start nonsense or act shady over it, then I know where he can find an awesome pair of golden scissors that I use when it's time to cut people off.

Eighteen.

You know, I've come to realize, that unnecessary is simply a part of life in general. However, it is not required to be part of any one individual's life. What do I mean? Well, for instance, let's say you have a friend or group of friends that you seem to bend your back for constantly. However, the moment your car breaks down, or you go somewhere, or you say, "No", they reveal themselves for the energysuckers they really are.

Or, let's say you have uber low self-esteem. You throw yourself into 'relations' that you interpret in your head as being 'relationships' but when asked why you insist on continuing a habit you know isn't doing you any good, you have no answer.

Both of these are examples of unnecessary things. Whether it be people, relationships, insecurities, clothes, drugs, alcohol. Many of us have things in our life that we simply don't need. They serve as fillers for the things we really want to have. The things we really should have. The necessary stuff. Because, gaps scare us. We constantly interpret gaps as 'emptiness' or areas where bad things can settle in. But, are they really? As my mom would say, they're more like 'areas of opportunity'.

I have a friend *cough* Tommy *cough* who takes advantage of his areas of opportunity. He takes a very simplistic approach to life, and is happy because of that. He has fun, sticks to his goals, and has great, real friends that have his back. Does that mean he was born with his head on straight? No. Does that mean he doesn't have problems or never frowns? No (although I can't remember him being sad about anything lol). My point, is, he focuses on HIS necessary. Something I think we all want to do, but go about the wrong way sometimes.

Perhaps that's due to the fact that, we tend to get caught up with "life in general" instead of OUR lives. we try to incorporate everything we desire, envy, cherish, and loathe, thinking that without those things our lives will stop. But I can say from my personal experiences that I have many gaps. But I've utilized this mentality, and I have a group of friends that won't ever go anywhere. I know what my passion in life is. And I know who I am. Unnecessary objects will come and go. And aren't meant to stay in our lives. What your life is filled with comes down to one thing: What do YOU allow in? This is the thin line between necessary and unnecessary. The line that we all are standing on.

Seventeen. (Sobriety)

So last night, me and my friends were chilling. Ok, understatement. I got kidnapped by three of my friends, and after being bound and blindfolded, I was dragged to....T.G.I.Fridays! LOL, and they made me walk in that way. It was probably one of the funniest things ever. And when they took the blindfold off, I was sitting across from a table full of my other friends!!! It was really a priceless experience. As you can see, me and my friends sorta just live in our own world, with it's own rules. We have yet to sober up to the "real world" or "reality" as so many lame asses call it. Sure, one of those lame asses could have really thought I was being kidnapped. Then what? They call the police, yada, yada, yada, a fun time immediately turns to a game of Monopoly with no get out of jail cards in sight. Honestly, I think people need to just loosen up and have fun like we do.

Which brings up the fact that I saw on the cover of a tabloid today that Kate Gosselin spanked her kid in pubic. This is front page news people. My question is why? Cause she's white? And the general stereotype of white parents is that they don't beat their children unless it's to the point of abuse or worse? Or is it the fact that she's rich, famous, and has her own reality show, along with a small country of kids and the husband she's currently getting a divorce from. Ten bucks says it's the latter. But I honestly don't see the problem. If I had 8 kids, I'd have scheduled daily beatings for all of em! Cause lord knows I can't watch all of them at once! Or I'd just beat them every fifteen minutes or so just cause I know they did something bad within that time. I bet that's what Kate was doing. I don't know about you, but I got my ass WHOOPED. And I learned well. When I see those kids/teens who curse out their parents, or act out, or seemingly act like they pay the bills, I say, "They're missing an ass whooping in their lives." It's very simple logic. So Kate, even though you're a self-conscious, spray-tanned, billion-dollar haircut monster...spank their asses. In public, in private, and everywhere in between. The only ones who'd get mad at that tabloid cover, and the exaggerated article within are the ones who's kids are or will soon be giving them the finger every time they ask them to say thank you. Whatever people like that are drinking, I sure do want some, just to see if my brain cells explode on consumption and turn me into a weak ass individual.

Hmm....maybe it isn't the youth who needs to sober up after all....

Sixteen.

I'm baaaaaaack!!!! Lol, what's up ladies and germs I missed ya!

No, really I have. The workings of life have this profound ability of being utterly crazy and unpredictable, thereby pulliing me away from the diligent task I've so graciously promised to take on. You like how I worded that right? So I was watching 6Teen on cartoon network (that show goes hard lol) and one of the characters, Jude, who's this white rocker kid that's really chill and weird, comes up with this pretty funny explanation as to why money shouldn't have a value and that teriyaki sticks should be used as currency instead. crazy random tv stuff aside, he has a point. money is what? green paper. and yet, because it's backed by gold, and someone gives THAT a value, it has a value. But, in essence, it's worthless. Money is nothing more than a system of power to keep poor people poorer, rich people richer, and the middle class screwed. The fact that our lives are dominated by and aimed at getting sheets of Monopoly money really is frustrating, especially when you know you can't do anything about it. Why? Cause money makes the world go round, and to do, get, and live how we want, that's exactly what we need to have. Crazy right?

Fifteen.

Ok, this one is short and sweet. Kind of. There's a reason. I promise you, you will find this hilarious. However, it will not be immediate. There will be an awkward silence (whoa, reference to my OTHER blog, go check it out) and then the endorphins dancing between your neurons will ignite. And you will understand why as you laugh at this. Ready? I warned you. Now then, let's get to it.

So I was working the other day. And we discovered that Band-Aid brand boxes now have...braille on them. No lie. Seriously. Now since a blind person can't read what I'm writing right now (unless there are computers with braille screens now) I won't be offending anyone. So my manager says to me, "Ok, I have a question. It's cool that the band-aids have braille on them now...but how do they find them?"..............................................................................ok, that's how long it took before the image registered in my head as hilarious. And she, a chubby anglo-saxon woman (yea, white and caucasian are now obsolete) proceeded to act blind for five seconds, walking swiftly down the aisle touching every product she could until she reached the band-aids. I was in tears.

Why? Suprisingly, not because of what she did. Because of the sheer logic behind it. How does a blind individual find a box of band-aids when they're located in the back of the store?? Sure, we could direct them, but what if they're stubborn as hell? Why did Band-Aid think that was a smart idea? Which brings up another question? How does a stubborn blind person find what they need? Even with their other four senses heightened, in a store with 60,000+ items (and ours is considered small) how does that work? And then it hit me. WHY don't stores have braille signs on the ends of the aisles? I won't even make a joke about that one. Think about it. Where's the logic??? Just like how we pay for 10 hot dogs in a pack and EIGHT hot dog buns come in a package. Or how, there's no saying of courtesy for when an atheist sneezes (Dane Cook lol). Or how Catholics give 10% of their earnings, yet they only go to church once a week (whoops, no offense, I have Catholic friends, that's why I can say that!).

My point? What's more backwards? The world...or the people living in it?

Fourteen.

AHHHHHHHHH! that's what's happening right now. why?? I'm cleaning my mom's room. no, not bedroom. i'm terrified of what i might find if i do. her OTHER room. cause her bedroom is not enough to contain all her articles of clothing, accessories, and *gulp* SHOES. I started at around one this afternoon. it is now past four. and i just finished with the shoes. why am i doing this? cause when you're offered 50 bucks, no questions asked to do this, the choice is obvious.

anyway, my bad for being AWOL. i'm currently going thru rehab. rather, breaking myself down and rebuilding from the ground up. I've felt so insufficient lately, i felt a need to refocus and figure out:

A. what the hell i'm going to school for
B. why the fuck i'm still working in retail
C. how to turn my writing into something worth being proud of...dammit.
D. why i'm still living at home.

what can i say? i'm mildly depressed. going to school while working AND living at home will do that to you. because, there is no reprieve from the endless mounds of bullshit. but as i just told a friend of mine in a comment on her blog, bullshit decomposes eventually. so i'm just trying to be patient. while simultaneously trying to speed up that process. no small feat, let me tell you.

what i feel like talking about today is....lil wayne. also known as, the man with NO talent. what, you're a lil wayne fan? too bad. he blows out the asssssssss. and maybe it's because i'm a poet. but just cause you can string a few rhymes together does not make you the greatest rapper alive. mind you, i get this from people all the time: 'i like him because i can't believe half the shit he comes up with!' my bad. in my next poem, i'll recite the entire alphabet and rhyme with the letter Z in the following stanza. cause, that's talent. no, i'm not hating. i'm just saying. there's lil wayne. then there's lupe. mos def. q-tip. talib. can we please stop pretending pointless metaphors and synthesized vocals are music? it was fun for a bit, but it's time to get back to business people. cut out the bull, and shine the light on real talent. for every "hot" wayne verse you can lay on the table, i can lay twenty "lukewarm" verses from the artists i just mentioned. and they'd still be hotter than him. i'm not hating. i'm just saying.

ok, enough with that rant. so tomorrow i just might be going to brooklyn. chillin wit my bud Sharina hopefully, and her uberly spectacular friends (that i haven't met. so how do i know they're uberly spectacular? cause they know sharina.) now, and i will ask this question. if you were to put all the artists of the world in one location, what would happen? would reality fold in upon itself and be reborn as something unlike anything any of us have every seen? would the sky turn purple and the grass turn white? would the Big Bang repeat itself and thus be proven? Or will the universe around said artists be revealed to be illusion? I mean come on. Green paper has monetary value. So anything is possible right?

Thirteen.

Good evening guys. Well, good morning as it's 2:30 in the am on sunday. Clearly, I have nocturnal blood flowing through my veins. Anyway, today was uneventful. Let's see....I woke up. Went to the karate school (I help teach tae kwon do to kids and I take classes myself), then came home. Helped mom with the groceries. Then got money out the bank. From which I went to work and entered what I like to call "6-hour depression".

Every time I walk into that facility, my blood pressure rises, I get a headache, and I suddenly crash. Good mood I was having before? Gone. I don't care if I just got some fifteen minutes before I walked through that door. All positivity is gone. It's just a part of working with retail. But I will maintain that once you work retail...you can handle anything. Because it builds one key skill: patience.

For example, I can't count how many people came up to the counter today. They dump their stuff on the counter. A line begins to form behind them. And you start ringing them up. And they say this: "What aisle is the [insert your favorite product] in?"

Pause.

Okay, now, the lost logic is very simple to find in this situation. Do not. I repeat. DO NOT. Come to my register if you don't have all your stuff. Otherwise, I get a line. And I either A) have to wait for you or B) have to call the manager for a void. Either way, it...ticks me off. And the other customers. Also, there's a reason why hugungous signs are hanging above each aisle telling what's there. So do the unthinkable and just...look.

Now let's say you have all your stuff. Kudos to you. But the rudest thing a customer can do is step to the register on the phone. Tell whoever you're talking to to hold on. Or, even better, "I'll call you back." Because then, I have to guess who you're talking to while you're talking. You don't have multiple mouths. You have one. And all my bluetooth geeks out there (I can talk cause I have one) don't think that makes things any better. In fact, it's worse. You already look like a crazy schizo. No need to add rude to that combo.

LAST BUT NOT LEAST. This goes out to all my bargaintards out there. I HATE people who walk in a store, buy a bunch of shit, and cause havoc about not getting a sale they "think" they should get. Despise them. Like I hate avocado or asparagus. Which is really bad. The only thing I hate more are the people that leave the store and come back five minutes later, expecting to skip a whole line of people just to get ten cents back from a product that didn't ring up properly. That's along the lines of how I feel about people who don't know how to discipline their kids.

Which brings me to my final point. I know Billy and Caitie are so adorable. I know Jaquan and Lanae are so cute. however, if they bounce one more ball down the aisle, or ring that bell one more time, I will be forced to step around the counter and tear their asses up. Seriously. And it amazes me, cause the parents stand there. Meanwhile their kids are acting all hella types up, and talking back. When I was little, if I even thought of thinking about talking back, a hand was already across my face. Or a belt was across that ass. What happened to that? Where has the belt gone? Now we have dog collars and shit. Beat them in public. Just once. And I don't mean a little wimp beatdown. I mean a "momma" beatdown. Cause we all know those hurt the most lol. I'm telling you, the embarassment alone will shape em up.

Okay, I'm done with my super-rant. Hope you guys laughed a bit. Next time: muumuu-wearing grandmas! seriously, i got some funny stories for you all! Thanks for reading!!! And remember: Check out my other links! On the right side of my page!

Twelve.

What's up readers???? Yes, it's been a minute. Get over it. You know you're happy that I'm posting again.

Tonight's blog will be about me. No seriously. And what I actually need from you all...are comments. I enjoy comments. They leave me with this warm fuzzy feeling. Then I realize I need to get a grip and I suppress that feeling until a later date.

So as I'm sure most of you know, I've chosen writing as my way to go. Why?? Well....several reasons. The first being it's the one thing I think about CONSTANTLY. No exaggerations here, I'm dead ass. I wake up with it on my mind and fall asleep only to dream about it. Doesn't that say enough?

The second is that it is very exciting to me. Ok, pause. I know some of you guys already complain that my blogs are lengthy at times. And that I use words above the 4th grade reading level. But listen, I'm bettering you. You are not only learning how to read (cause in 4th grade you were focused on shooting spitballs at your friends) but you're also learning how to enrich your vocabulary. And if you're reading this, you already know that my stuff is always worth reading. So before you start complaining about how boring books are, and how even more boring writing is, hear me out.

Writing for me isn't stringing together a bunch of subjects and predicates to make pretty sentences. It's art. It's taking an endless myriad of syllables and building from the ground up words to paint a picture. To create a work that speaks beyond the denotations of every word, and emanates with the connotations of my soul. And the souls of those that inspire me; from my family, to my friends, to my teachers, to my predecessors. I can't describe the joy I have after writing a new poem or blog or essay or whatever and being able to say, "I created that. This work was brought into existence with my hand." Sure, all that sounds very poetic, but, it is truly how I feel.

The final reason is the risk. I was not born for a typical 9 to 5. Nor was I born to settle for a "safe" job. There's a risk in pursuing writing that thrills me. It's the idea of a challenge. And to overcome that challenge and have my work be the reason behind that, I can't think of anything that would make me happier. So I will work hard to write the next great songs, novels, poems, speeches, and plays. I want to prove to the world that pursuing the arts does not mean "starving artist." Artists are no less important than politicians, teachers, or doctors. Without artists, this world wouldn't exist. Culture, tradition, and even civilization were built on the backs of visionary minds. So....we deserve a little more credit than we're given. And better opportunities than there are available. Ok, I'm done for now, but tell me, what you think. I especially want to hear from my artists. Cause, well, you guys rock.

Eleven.

Ok, lots to talk about. Ok, not really, well, not sure yet. We'll see lol.

FIRST OFF. Scroll down this page. Where it shows my picture, and says "View my complete profile" click that link. Now. Another page will pop up. Showing my OTHER blogs. It's ok, there's only one. It's called "Filling An Awkward Silence...Or Creating One." Click it. If you haven't checked it yet, do so. If you have been on the regular, and aren't a follower yet, become one. If you aren't a follower on this blog, become one as well. The tab is on the right panel as well. But back to "Awkward Silence." I have a new poem up, called "Metaphor". Check it. Love it. And follow. Also, do me the favor, and check out the blogs I follow. That includes "ADD Blogged Out", "Phoenix Rising", and Jesus C'mon and Grab the Wheel. If you're going to be online, become followers of their blogs as well, and learn some stuff while getting some good laughs. That way you can tell people your brain's deterioration to mush by digital destimulation is actually being slowed because of us. LOL

Anyway, I told my mom I wanted to pursue writing. And I got the biggest subtle shutdown in history. Here's my opinion. I have a talent. I wake up every morning, and I feel like doing it. I grab a pen and paper, and that's what I do. I can lock myself in my room for hours, and write. Nonstop. I can do it anywhere. I NEVER get tired of it. If that's not an indication that this is my calling, then, I don't know what is. I want to write songs. Poetry. Blogs. Journals. Articles. Speeches. Novels. Eventually Scripts. SO if you know anyone who is willing to help a brother realize his dream, or if you have any advice, PLEASE let me know. Seriously. Cause this list of people I have to prove wrong is getting LONGER AND LONGER lol.

Ok, now I remember what I originally wanted to talk about. The arts. Why on earth are they considered not a real profession, when this world is designed entirely out of art? Why are so many artists bound to the title "starving artist?" And why are people always assuming that's what a person who pursues the arts, be it music, writing, dancing, acting, etc, that you'll end up a "starving artist?" Is it starving doing what I love to do? I'm just saying.

Also, here's my theory on the whole art thing. The reason why the art community is not respected as it should be is because unlike every other field, it's made up of a bunch of individualists. We take pride in being an individual, and in fact, that's what our crafts thrive off of. However, it's also what defeats us. Because artists generally do whatever the hell they want to, they don't band together. But think about it? What if we did? We'd be like abstracts possessed. I mean come on. Artists will always be needed. Cities need building, buildings need building, newspapers need stories, advertisements need pictures, singers need dancers, producers need singers, etc, etc, etc. Perhaps if we agreed to conform to each other for once, we'd be the force to reckon with that all our metaphors and imagery proclaim us to be.

The arts are just as real of a profession as any other. In fact, maybe even more so. Think about it. Alright, that's all for this one.

Ten. The Clarke Special

So I've given up keeping count of the days. I'm not being consistent enough to even attempt that. Tonight's blog was specially requested by an old friend of mine, who's name *cough* SHARINA *cough* i will not say. anyway, today's discussion, well monologue, is about me. lol j/p, oh wait, SIDEBAR:

artst.com
"Cause it's not about me, it's all of you guys"

lol it's an actual website, and it allows artists of all kinds to showcase their work. so if you're an artist, check it out.

back to the main topic.

SOPHOMORIC STUPIDITY!!!!!!!!!!

Young love...this is referring to ages 17-24....what is it about us that during this time we want EVERYTHING. Every single aspect of every kind of relationship out there. Ok, there's basically two. You have the fuck buddy system. And the ride or die club. Before age 17, most kids want fuck buddy. They're fast asses don't even know where rod A is supposed to go, and could very well end up sticking it in Slot C instead of B cause they can't read the fine print, but they still wanna get down. With everyone. It doesn't matter if girl went out with their best friend last week, or if dude just gave two of ya girls the business....they wanna get er dun.

Then you have what exists after the age of 24. They lookin for LOVE. No fuck buddy. No, let's mess around. No. They'll do it, but they eventually want love. So put on this front that goes like this:

"I'm 25 and so I've suddenly gained years of maturity and understand that life isn't about eating every pie within a 50 mile radius." or "I'm 25 and so I've suddenly gained years of maturity and understand that life isn't about seeing how many inches i can fit in a confined space during an hour timespan."

Ok, that was extremely not cool. That's the point. Then you have us. The one's who want the relationship, but can't stay faithful. The ones who get caught up in puppy love, and as soon as things go bad, they either:

A. give up as soon as they see a dark cloud on the horizon
B. pretend they don't see the clouds and just hope they'll pass.

Sophomoric stupidity anyone?

How is it, that we can possibly desire commitment and yet we can't handle all the tough stuff that it entails? what is it about us wanting "no strings" while we're sewing one another up to those very strings? We get so wrapped up in our wants and our desires that wen things start to fail, we contradict ourselves to fit the occasion. So we not only start lying to whoever we're with, but to ourselves. Never, ever cool. So where does that leave us? Unsatisfied until our 25th birthday? Or are we overthinking it? What if they perfect guy/girl is right there in front of us? And instead of looking for that "mature" person, or the one with a herculean libido, we just look for the nice, interesting people and get to know them.

But we can't do that because...we either think ahead...or think back. We think "Ah, marriage, entrapment, aghhhhh!" or "Cheating, infidelity, drama, uggghhhhhh!" But think about it. Is it really that serious? Or are we getting so caught up in what our age group deems is "ideal"? Clearly, we don't know what the hell we're even talking about.

Nine. (Day 9?)

Yeah, I know, so much for being consistent right? Trust me there was alot going on, so there wasn't as much writing or even thinking going on. But as you can see, I'm back.

So let's see....ah yes. Rutgersfest. This past friday had to have been one of the most amazing experiences ever. Not only was it raining cats, dogs, and parakeets, but half the carnival's population was either drunk, high, or both. definitely a sight to see. Imagine the sky literally sobbing upon the earth, and all across the campus parking lot (where the carnival was held) rutgers kids are getting half naked, some barefoot, dancing and screaming while getting drenched to their drawers. Everyone is laughing, umbrellas are being abandoned, people are jumping in puddles, couples are making out. About half of the people are drunk red, or glass-eyed high, and are either as chill as chill gets....or angry as hell. It was definitely amazing.

Then....there was the concert. So who better to perform in a thunderstorm for jaded college kids than N.E.R.D.!!!!! not only did we wait an hour for them to come out, but the rain kept stopping and starting. The crowd was insane! Me and my friends slowly made our way to the front, which was made slower the further up we moved due to the sheer number of people trying to squeeze into the same space. You know that physics law that says "Two masses can't occupy the same space?" Well, try hundreds of kids trying to occupy that front row. Claustrophobic much?

So during the wait, people were pushing. Momentum, being the bitch that she is, meant that if a small group of people shoved in one direction, everyone beyond them was going in that direction. So me and my friends were shoved and crushed. Alot. It was insane. Then people had the nerve to get mad. So at one point I had to kindly say the following:

"You're at a fuckin free concert with already fucked up college kids still lighting up milds and cigarettes. It's obvious what you're getting into! If you don't like it, leave!"

Glad to say that several people did indeed get fed up enough to leave, which meant we moved closer lol. Sorry, but I just like having a good time. When that good time is messed up, I'm no longer nice. Seriously. The people who actually got serious and mad are the same ones that should have just come with "I have a stick up my ass" labels on their foreheads. Jeez.

Anyway, there was also these group of girls who tried to manhandle their way to the front of the crowd cause they were shorter than everyone. Memo: If you are under four feet tall, bring a step ladder. Or get there early. Cause you aren't getting through. They got mad, so one of them smacked me in the neck. No joke. I ignored it at first...until the girl started cursing me out. So I turned around and politely cursed her out. Then her fat friend wanted to try and use her ass to push her way past me and my friend. So at one point the crowd lurched forward. Knowing it was going to push back, I dug my feet in, set up my elbow, and shoved the mess out of Ms. Mega Piggie. I can still remember how digging into her spine felt. Needless to say, they gave up after that.

One of their friends was so drunk, she was threatening to kill people in the audience. I think she was dead ass, cause when her friends tried to calm her down, she started choking the shit out of them. It was the funniest thing I ever seen. Then another girl in front of me and my friend started wildin out cause people were pushing up. This wasn't funny cause she had an umbrella and at one point tried to hit my friend with it. Later on she was trying to choke people with it. Apparently choking is the new anger management system. What would have been funny is if I snatched her umbrella and flung it into the crowd. Hmm...I'll remember that for next time.

Anyway, during the show, I saved a girl's life, participated in a mosh pit with my friend, almost got stepped on, and successfully lost all my friends in the crowd. Oh, and people were crowd surfing like crazy. It was awesome. All kinds of shit were getting thrown, from shirts and sneakers to bottles of soda. I was waiting for a blackberry to go flying. That would have been it. I did catch a shirt though that the stage people were tossing into the crowd. It was so cool.

N.E.R.D. murdered that concert! By the time it was over, I was out of breath, in pain, had an exploding headache, and still wanted more. That was the coolest free concert ever. Definitely not something that I will forget. If I ever meet N.E.R.D. in person, which i might if my writing makes it somewhere, I will have to tell them all about my incredible experience.

Eight. (Day 4)

I'm sitting here in my intro to computer class and really, really close to beating myself in the head with my keyboard. I'm not sure if it's because I have nothing to do for the next remaining half hour, or the fact that my teacher pulled out the clip-on i swear she bought from my job (CVS people, not a hair place) or the fact that about three-fourths of the people in this class are....idiots. Yeah, I think it might be all three too.

So I'm phoneless. Apparently, that's what happens when your sister strategically breaks her phone before she heads to cali for a week. OH WELL, not responsible for what my hoes send. LOL. No seriously I get some pretty interesting picture messages. I sent messages to everyone telling them not to hit up my phone. Cause I don't need my sister coming home saying that she was harassed repeatedly while she was out there lol.

Ok, I'm tired of writing today. sorry if I didn't make you guys laugh, but I have nothing to laugh about at the moment. Not much to talk about 1025 in the morning. Oh yea. It's HOT as Satan's Sauna outside! yea, I know you guys liked that. Hell is SO last summer. lol anyway, yesterday i felt like I was gonna melt, and today I might just spontaneously combust. alright i'm done for now. i'm sure as the day goes on i'll come up with something really random, really stupid, or really hilarious to talk about.

Seven. Part Two.

Okay, so where was I? so "The One." What the hell is that anyway? "True Love." Come again? I'm sorry to say but such concepts belong in two places. The chick flicks/daytime tv shows they're pulled out of, and the asscrack of whoever came up with such nonsense. Why is it nonsense because this is what it boils down to:

The One
Now- I love you now and want to jump your bones as many times as I can in one day
Later- You're lazy, fat, annoying as hell, and I hate your guts. Jump in front of gunfire for me.

True Love
Now- Till death do us part.
Later- I'm going to stab you in the heart. And then bury you. In a volcano.

Cynical? Hell yes. It's okay, you know it's funny.

Seven. "The One"...or lack thereof.

Gosh, am I getting into the habit of titling my blogs? That wasn't the intention lol. Ok, next one, I'll get back on track. Did I just use "Gosh"? What the hell lol? I have this tendency of using the weirdest language ever. I can speak broken english, slang, proper english, specks of Spanish, and corny words simultaneously. Sometimes in one sitting. It's gay really. Ah, that's where I'm going to start.

So this is a retro rant. Yesterday, me and my lesbian assistant manager had this discussion about the term "gay." Obviously we don't really get much done when we work the same shift lol. Anyway, I was complaining about this really dumb, rickety, cheap ass cardboard stand that was supposed to hold like 30 tiki torches. I doubted that thing would last a week and figured we'd have more success laying them on the floor. So i said the stand was "gay" and caught myself because my manager is gay lol. So I said to her, "I wonder how a gay person feels when they hear somebody say that." And she said, "Well how does a black person feel when a derogatory comment is made about them?" And then I thought and said, "Yeah, but when you think about it, calling something "gay" really makes no sense. In essence it has absolutely no meaning and isn't referring to a person, and yet it's still used." Then we got talking about that. And I came to the conclusion that calling an object, "gay" served no purpose. Unless you're a "hetero extremist" who's homophobia has caused an inner hatred of homosexuals and thus an insecurity in one's self. Whoa. How bout I just lost the will to write. Why? Let what I just wrote sink in. Good night lol.

**Memo to self: "The One" and "Writing"

Six. *Grumble Grumble* (Day 3)

That's the sound my stomach is making right now. Apparently putting a slice of pizza in the oven and forgetting about it is a bad thing. Who knew? I ended up tossing about my shoulda-been-perfect-but-now-midnight-crispy pizza in the trash, and it kinda ruined my appetite. So I'm sitting here, with my stomach saying to me, "Grumble Grumble." Good times.

Speaking of grumbling, I just got home from work and once again realized how much i hate people. Retail is a bitch. Literally. I had this lady come in and get mad at me because she couldn't read a price tag properly. Then proceeded to argue with me that every other flavor of COUGH DROPS was 5o cents cheaper, so that should be too. Fifty cents. Yes, I understand we're in a recession, people, but if you're so broke that 50 cents is going to put you into bankruptcy, perhaps you should stop going clubbing every weekend. Or turn off your electricity when you're not using it. Or hell, stop giving your kids lunch money. That should solve the problem real quick.

My favorite customers are the ones that come in for protection. They're hilarious. They fall into two categories, the first of which being the realli ashamed ones. They come in, shuffle down to the contraceptive aisle, shuffle back to the front counter and hastily throw the condoms onto the counter. Before you can breathe, they make it a point to make sure you triple bag the shit just in case Superman is waiting for them outside. Or, if they can't find them, they whisper it, like church people do when they're talking about something sinful. Then you have the bold ass people who feel they have to start a conversation about what they're buying. Yes, I see you're buying Magnums, but considering you're a dude walking in there with your homie just to buy condoms, stop pretending they're for you. I know you're gonna be putting them on him in about fifteen minutes. Yes, I see you bought the variety pack. I also see you brought in the hooker you pick up every two weeks to use them on. Yes, you bought the jumbo pack. But why buy the most expensive pack of rubbers when you were just bitching to pharmacy about how much your Viagra cost?

Speaking of Viagra, we get all kinds of people that stop by the pharmacy. Likewise, we get all kinds of stupid people who can't read signs. Such as the big ass sign before you walk in, and the one chilling by pharmacy that tells you it closes at 6 o'clock on the weekends. Of course, they walk all the way to the back, then back to the front and ask, "Your pharmacy is closed?" No, the huge locked gate and no pharmacists is just screaming, "We're open." Then there's, "What time do they close?" Mind you, I answer this question to the same, sick, delusional, crabby people every weekend. "Six." Then they either seem disappointed, really mad, or they want to plead their case: "I am dying from a mysterious rash, and I have fingernail cancer and anal blockage." "No, you're just hypochondriatic, haven't cleaned your nails in a few weeks, and you're constipated. Go home and come complain if you must tomorrow. They open at 9." That's how I wish I could respond.

This is precisely why a people profession isn't for me. So I think I'll be a writer, lock myself up somewhere and laugh at people from a distance, cause let's face it, that's when they're funny. Cause you don't have to deal with them. Once you get up close, you feel like hitting them with the first thing you lay your eyes upon.

Five.

So me and a friend of mine had a pretty pointless conversation about "anger management." Well more like throwing phones at people, e.g. Naomi Campbell. He told me how he was frustrated with Twitter (dear god, another reason NOT to communicate in person) and how it don't work right cause he has no friends. I told him that I was gonna join anyway, so i'll be his first friend and that he doesn't have to throw his blackberry across the room. Hence, everyone's favorite crazy supermodel bitch came into play. And he told me he has thrown a phone, which is hilarious cause I've come close at one point or another. Why? Because people are generally idiots, with one finger up their nose and their entire head up their ass. So, clocking someone in the head with a phone would definitely make me feel better. On top of that, I have the world's most indestructible phone (it's fallen down a flight of stairs, soared across a room, sat overnight outside in the rain, etc) and so after dislodging it from somebody's forehead, i'd still be able to call my best friends and find out if anime movie night is still on. ANYWAY we eventually got on the topic of how hitting somebody with a car would be so much better. And how dragging them would add to it. So I have the rope. He has the car. Who wants to be first?

Random conversations are the best.

Four. (Day 2)

The sun is killing my eyes at the moment. I wish I was still sleeping. Why aren't I? Cause this morning I'm teaching tae kwon do to preschoolers at this daycare. Not a bad gig considerin I get paid 25 bills for half an hour twice a week. That's food money right there....for those expensive broke down vending machines. Lol. Anyway, I really just want to sleep. I'm a recovering flu addict. Because it won't leave me alone. Apparently I inhaled several strains of the flu at once, and I'm getting hit back to back. I've been sick for a week now. And every time I think I'm getting better...I wake up suffocating on my own nasal drip. Woohoo. You should see the bucket I keep by my bed. NO, not really, but at this point I'm seriously considering it. So after teaching class...I have to go to class. My public speaking class. Only 50 mins, but when you're nose is working for J.T. and crying a river, it's more like 3 hours of hell. I woke up in a very sour mood if you couldn't tell. Grrr. I think I'll just plug in my Mp3, download some rock music, and blast it as loud as possible to piss people off. Then, anyone unlucky enough to say something to me will receive a nice helping of nose jizz. Flu Flem. Whatever. I'm done writing. Time to grab some Cini-Minis and a bottle of tequila. Peace out.

Three.

Alot of things go through my head everyday. Unfortunately, the majority of the people around me are mentally incapable of handling it all. Thus, i'm forced to stop my usually random but valid trains of thought at this rejectified station that I have created. Anyway, it's crossed my mind just about five seconds ago a question....why is different so bad? Why is it treated with such a negative connotation?

I find it quite hypocritical how we can live in a capitalist society based off of competition and diversion...and yet when someone decides they want to step out of "the box", there's a problem. We can take pride in liking Lucky Charms over Fruit Loops, but when someone takes pride in being Baptist over Roman Catholic, Homosexual over Heterosexual, or fat instead of skinny, there's a problem? Go capitalism.

It kills me when people single one another out for differences because it's those differences that makes us interesting and even remotely bearable to one another. If we all liked the same foods, shared the same religion, freak nastied with the same kind of people, weighed the same, had the same hair, clothes, etc, we'd be nothing more than a bunch of gray blobs that would have more fun humping ourselves than living. Not to mention we'd want to murder one another a zillion times more than we do on any given day.

I have personally been singled out for liking to rock a mohawk over a ceasar. For enjoying rock music and jazz over rap. For drinking, for singing, for writing, for living how I please. The fact that my life affects so many other people's existences is heartwarming. Or nauseating. Or both.

Bottom line is, if people stopped spending so much time wondering about others and judging them for the things that are different about them, maybe they'd have more time to look in the mirror and judged the "most fucked up" or "most pathetic" thing this world has to offer. The real reason behind why they can't get over the decisions other people make. The real reason behind why they can't accept that some people like to just live. Damn that reflection.

Two.

There's something about Thursdays that really seems kinda epic in a way. Not heroic epic. More like anticlimactic, fuck my life, it should be Friday, but it isn't kinda epic. Like I woke up at the crack ass of dawn this morning, for reasons unknown (=P) and somehow made it to class. Let me tell you something about my 9:30 AM intro to computers class. Apparently I was extra wicked last semester, so Jesus decided to set me up in purgatory. Try sitting in front of a computer, and learning NOTHING. Why? Cause your teacher, who's name is Dike by the way, has this amazing ability of saying nothing in an hour and twenty minute lecture. She is of some African/Caribbean descent, but went to London for a few years, so her accent is like this bootyscratch voodoo stick up my ass type thing. In other words it's bad. And everytime she speaks, she talks like we're remedial. Not to mention with an attitude. But the thing is, she makes no sense. I learned more about myspace and facebook than I did about word processors and website creating. Anyway, me being the Libra that I am, I challenge her every chance I get. See, where she's just pompous, I have this profound ability to be both sarcastic and condescending at the same time. Trust me, working at CVS, it's a necessary skill. Anyway, I pretty much destroy everything she tries to say within seconds, and she shuts the hell up. Now, I know purgatory is supposed to make me suffer, but I actually enjoy it! Sure, I'm probably sealing my fate, with a shiny seat waiting in hell for me, but I heard it's a party down there. What he doesn't know is my two best friends are coming with me, so we shuttin that operation DOWN.

I think the suppliers of college vending machines should be sued. I don't know about you, but 80% of college students are broke as hell. Flies zoom out my wallet whenever I open it. Our idea of a fancy meal are those packs of ramen noodles we keep in the kitchen cabinet. Or under our dorm matresses. As much as college is these days, those Lil Debbie snacks need to be free. If not, then how bout fixing them? I put a dollar twenty five in the vending machine the other day cause I really, really wanted the world's smallest pack of Swedish Fish. But the damn thing didn't turn when I put the money in! That was my last dollar and twenty five for the next few days after that. Then today, I put a dollar in one machine to get change to put in the other cause i was thirsty. The first machine would not give me my change. So I was forced to get a Rice Krispies Treat instead. So while my mouth was snap, crackle, and poppin, my throat was turning into sandpaper. Good times.

Last but not least, makeshift handymen are hilarious. Take my steppops. He's been fixing our bathroom for the last....hmmm.....month and change. Hasn't even finished the shower yet. Just now, he was hammering, and suddenly i heard him say, "Goddamit!....Shit!....Muthafucka!!" with like thirty angry grunts in between. It was like something out of a bad porno, BDSM style. So I'm laughing. Wrong? No. The golden rule for stepparents is as follows: They get NO sympathy.

One.

What's up world! Yeah, so this is the first post in my second blog. I'm gonna try to be a little more faithful to these things lol. Seriously. So the other one is more artistic. Poetry, little nuggets of wisdom, maybe music videos and pics eventually. But for now, it's my writing. Check it out! abstrakts.blogger.com. anyway, I'm trying to think of something interesting to say. But I have a knack of making nothing sound very interesting. How so? Cause you're still reading! Lol. I don't have much to talk about this late in the day. Not much happened. The usual school, work, writing, and what am I eating today combination. Seriously. Well, for the most part. Lol. Ok, my stomach hurts, which means I'm starving...which is all the time. What can I say, I like to eat. So later dudes. Gals. And Its. I promise I'll find something interesting to talk about by the next post.