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This week, as contrasted with my expectations for it, is fantastic.
Yesterday was probably one of the best Mondays thus far this school year. Grogginess, crankiness and apathy all failed to settle into their accustomed places, the reason for which I have no clue about. The sun shone brightly, but its light lacked whatever paints the world in washed-out hues on all too many Mondays. The quirky behavior of the populace, rather than set the murky fluids of mine brain achurn, merely caused half-grins to twitch at the corners of my mouth. Mrs. Solomon taught us the wrong math lesson. The grass didn't make me itch in the slightest when laid upon. I began to get a little more accustomed to the fact that about half the girls I know have short hair now.
Come to think of it, Trevor and Michael have always been much more hardcore than me in the belief that long hair is better - I was always the one to say, "Well, but on some girls short hair looks as good or better," and then they'd cite numerous examples, saying, "Imagine her with short hair!" And I would think briefly, and say, "Yes, for them you're right, but..." to which they'd say "Ha! Loser," and go off and abuse guitar strings. Or some crap like that. That was the direction in which certain crap usually went.
(Doubtless Trevor will call me as soon as I post this and say, "I never said any such thing! You were the one who was always raving about long hair!")
Today was also very, very nice. In objective terms, it was probably at least as good as yesterday; but when one takes into consideration that Mondays, by well-established tradition, suck, one would have to say that today was not as much of a pleasant surprise as yesterday. One would also have to say that because I said it, albeit in a roundabout manner, and one would be a fool not to agree with me in such a time as this. For your reference, such a time as this is a time in which one should be agreeing with me.
Neverth'less today was very nice.
Yet I still have a slight feeling that I haven't had much interesting to say lately; nor have I found myself able to empathize to any great degree. But really, there's not much exposition to be done on that subject, since I haven't yet worked out the details; and besides, I would not want to risk giving the impression that I'm in a bad mood. I am extraordinarily happy and that no doubt shows in the odd offshoots which the proverbial tree of one-way conversation has sprouted.
posted on Tuesday, April 29, 2003
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I meant to post yesterday, but it was, so to speak, midnight, before I noticed the passage of any time, so...
(mutters something about instagib and the difficulties of boost-dodging in CTF-Chrome)
Anyway. The past few weeks or so have been basically lousy. It's as though everyone I know had had their brains replaced with hamster pelts or something similarly dysfunctional, with myself as no exception. School, homework, friends, and family have all seemed utterly banal, and I wonder how much of that is my fault. My mind hadn't exactly been fertile ground for thought lately, and I thrash even as I write this for a helpful object at which to hurl my blame. Lack of sleep and the waning of the school year probably both contributed, but I've been to both of those places often enough that I think some unnoticed factor was the first to rear its hand.
Spending a lot of time yesterday just sitting around and reading (Legacy by Greg Bear) seemed to help, and the weather these past few days has been... I suppose "peaceful" would be the best word for it. Most of yesterday was taken up by intermittent thunderstorms, but minutes before sunset the rain stopped and the clouds began to blow out. Everything was still glistening with rain; the sky was blue, orange, and pink, and those colors looked glorious set against the green of the new leaves. I leaned out the front door, snapped a few pictures on my dad's digital camera, and ten seconds later the moment had passed. Thank the fates I happened to glance out the window just then. This afternoon has been simple gold on green, and the return of conscious thought to my mind is almost tangible.
Last Thursday I was completely and utterly pissed off at my parents, and they've managed to keep my anger stoked thus far. They told me they wanted me to get some exercise. Normally, I would have said, yeah, okay and ridden my bike somewhere. Last Thursday, however, we'd played soccer in Health and I'd done a good amount of running then. So I told them that I'd played a good half hour of soccer earlier and that I therefore had already gotten some exercise that day. They said that, alright, that exercise counted, and I could just get tomorrow's exercise done today.
Let me say at this point that, while I'm not some tower of bulging muscles (Become Buff Like Trevor and Chris!), I am not fat, nor flabby, nor disgustingly pale, nor underweight, nor a weakling. I get plenty of exercise without my parents' prodding, especially in the summer when I have plenty of time, but they'll have no truck with that.
Back to the epic narrative. My eyes must have popped a bit, because they said, what, what's unreasonable about that?
Not making wiseass comments at this point was a near impossibility. I don't know how I managed it. And, of course, they hadn't actually mentioned that they wanted me to exercise on Friday prior to this point, and I doubt the thought had previously crossed their minds at all. In the face of established precedent (i.e., that no matter how straightforwardly disproved my parents are, their bludgeoning insistence will not falter), I made several simple, concise, and more or less respectful arguments (not worth reproduction here because you yourself, dear reader, could create them for yourself in a heartbeat) and was grounded from using the computer for the day, and then was sent on my way. So I rode my bike up to Shepherd's Vineyard, turned onto the Greenway, went to several nicely secluded places in the woods that I know of, held back a few tears of equal parts bitter almost-hatred and intense anger, and just watched the creek water flow. Later on, I asked my dad why he saw fit to force me to exercise, and he responded that I wouldn't get enough on my own. When I asked why he thought that I wasn't getting enough exercise, he simply refused to answer.
Breakfast is a similar issue. Although I get three solid meals a day, even if I don't eat breakfast (I eat a huge snack in the afternoon), my parents still ground me if I don't eat breakfast in the morning. My arguments against such idiotic statutes are analogous to those above, as are my parents' responses.
If this keeps up, my will to regard my parents as authorities to be voluntarily obeyed will fade entirely. They can carry truncheons if they like.
posted on Sunday, April 27, 2003
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Day of previous birth and present pleasant surprises (I meant "present" as in "current" but I suppose it works decently either way). There was a cake at lunchtime ("Happy Birthday Brian"), which I really wasn't expecting; 'twas yummeh, regardless. There was also a metallic red thong, boxed and wrapped, which Hannah disavowed any involvement whatsoever in the procurement of. Somehow I suspect it was mainly Maria's idea; I think my reasoning is mainly based on the fact that she told me it was so. The aforementioned garment is hidden in a dark, dark corner of my closet and, if all goes well, will never be seen again.
The main other weirdness occured when I was lying on the ground after school and just kind of half-listening to people talk. Brianne came up out of the blue and gave me two (!) boxes of Ghirardelli dark chocolate. Truly awesome dark chocolate, although I've exhibited restraint and only had one square of it thus far. I think I'm going to try to give one of the boxes back tomorrow, though. Isolated sectors of my mind, the ones that weren't spinning their tires, were clamoring for me to do so at the time, but I was a bit too confused to make any serious attempt just then. Aforesaid confusion was caused by being thoroughly caught off guard, both in the sense that I was lying on the ground with my back turned and in the sense that it was, although not the absolute last thing I expected, nowhere near the loftier bits of the list. Gad, how am I supposed to respond to something like that?
I've got the chocolate hidden in my room as well - one is in a small box, containing mostly Legos, under my bed and another is behind both a stack of old book and a rack of clothes in my closet. Keeping the boxes in the fridge would probably be better, but then they would be seen by my parents, and that would bring on Questions. Nor have I mentioned to them the cake which was brought to school at lunch; I don't know why I regard that as something I should keep to myself, but my instincts say that, given the way my parents are, I may as well keep them in the dark about as much of my life as possible.
posted on Thursday, April 24, 2003
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Latin Honor Society inductions were tonight. The pre-ordained members gave me a laurel tree and weird handshakes, and all was... well, pretty fine.
And the school year flashes by. It's almost over already, even if the end of the school year often seems like some kind of asymptote as it's approached. Halfway done with high school, and that brings tears like nothing else. There are a lot of people I'm going to lose in the worst way possible; they'll still be somewhere, but most of them are going to be strangers within a year after high school ends for the last time. Seeing those people afterwards will be like seeing someone on the other side of a bottomless canyon - you can see them, far off in the distance, but any communication requires so much effort that it hardly seems worthwhile, and there's no way to cross the gap.
Staying in touch over distances is no solution, either. Without that personal contact, the real, almost tangible part of a relationship just fades away, and it becomes so damnably hard to remember what it was that made you such good friends before. How many people will stick around? Will I wake up one day, and find that those upon whom I've built so much of myself have been diminished (in importance to me) by years and miles? Will I only then realize how much I had, and how much is gone forever?
And what will my attitude be when that realization strikes, when lying in a bed someplace foreign to the me of the present, maybe beside someone whom I, Chris, as of the twenty-third of April in the year 2003, have never, ever met? Will it break my heart? Or will I merely regard the memories with a faint, wiser, and only slightly wistful smile born of the greater wisdom I'll have by then accumulated? And am I the traitor I feel to imagine that the latter could ever occur?
posted on Wednesday, April 23, 2003
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Naps in the late afternoon rock. I know, because I took one today. The probable consequence of this is that it will take several hours for me to fall asleep tonight, but I think it was worth it.
posted on Tuesday, April 22, 2003
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In some ways, I wish this was a private blog.
I get about seven visitors a day now, most of whom I have no idea of the identities of. If they were random people I've never met, bah - I couldn't care less. However, those are more likely to be people who really do know me. Because of this, if I wish to post any sensitive information, I'll have to, I don't know, make up code names or something; and even if I don't use any names at all, the correct ones can be rather easily guessed (as I've learned). What if I liked a girl and wanted to write about that in here, but couldn't for fear she'd read it and know what it was about? Stuff like that.
I could take the route of being painfully open in what I write on here. That probably won't happen, though; I can't summon any desire to be utterly transparent to those around me. Luckily, existence has been dull enough lately that I don't have to seriously worry about any of this right now; it only concerns me in some vague "thinking-ahead" kind of way. Stupid of me, neh?
posted on Tuesday, April 22, 2003
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What's with birthdays? Lots of people have been having birthdays recently, and this set my mind on this particular path which you, also, have stumbled upon, or perhaps been forcibly yanked onto by the terrible power of my rambling posts. [Mad laughter]
However, I wander too much from my topic. The path upon which my mind stumbled along was, roughly speaking, to ask the question of what the birthday of a particular person, say, me, should mean to that person, who is, once again, me. For all I know, I wasn't even born on that day. I have no memory of the event which I am supposed to celebrate. And what's so great about the event itself? From all I've heard, it doesn't sound like much fun for anyone involved - lots of pain for my mom, blood everywhere, me getting circumcised, etc. Admittedly, I would much rather have no memory of that last event and so I'm not unhappy that, if a need for its occurrence was felt, that it was gotten over with. Even so, I can't imagine it was fun for that screaming little kid.
But verily! arcane surgical procedures are not at all the topic of this post; that at least was not my original intention and I shall do my best to prevent further digression in that direction. Anyway, I guess the point of all this is that I just don't see why this day should mean anything special to me. Other people can bring in cake and so forth for their birthdays, and with that I have no quibbles, as long as I get a slice. But don't expect me to bring in a cake for my own birthday.
Although... a birthday might be a useful excuse to do something horribly hedonistic, like play paintball. That will bear further contemplation.
posted on Monday, April 21, 2003
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I've majorly neglected this thing for the last few days and have myriad and paltry excuses, none of which are worth their weight in binary. However, even though I've written very, very little in this past week, I can't rid myself of the feeling that there, in all honesty, really has been little worth writing down. I went over to Trevor's on Friday night; we went on a walk at about two in the morning, got back about an hour and a half later, went to sleep some time after that and awoke grumpily in the morning. Aside from that, break has been more or less colorless. Oh yes, and today is Easter. Chocolate - one, resurrection - zero.
All I mean by that last bit is that the former is much more successful in evoking a positive visceral response in me than the most commonly cited instance of the latter. There's a good possibility that this is due to the fact that chocolate isn't pastel-colored. Resurrection probably isn't either, but I think I associate the two for some reason. I think of Jesus stepping out of the tomb, garbed in the requisite white robe, and with some kind of pale green sash and maybe a few small pink-bow-bestowed bunnies hopping near His feet, and revulsion ensues.
posted on Sunday, April 20, 2003
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How'd it get so cold so fast? It was about eighty degrees when I was mowing the lawn at six yesterday evening, and by eight it was about sixty degrees. Reviewing that sentence, I find amusing the way in which the numbers are simply switched.
Anyway, now it's like fifty degrees out there. There is no numerical irony to be found there, just much coldishness.
posted on Friday, April 18, 2003
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Whatever was causing me to feel distant seems to have found better things to do. I feel, in some way of which I can't get a telling whiff, much more connected to people.
posted on Wednesday, April 16, 2003
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Deer trails are very handy for running through the woods more quickly - saves me the trouble of having to identify and avoid poison ivy. I was rollicking in the woods behind my house after I got home from school this afternoon (it's a beautiful day, etc., and no more school this week), smashing sticks with other sticks and whatnot. Tulip poplars seem to have both the toughest and most lightweight wood of any of the trees around here; I found a branch of about one-point-five inch diameter, broke it off at a handy point with some effort (I had to wedge it between two trees and kick it), and went around demolishing those pansy oak branches. It was like hitting them with an aluminum baseball bat. More often than not, the poplar would break its targets into three pieces - one above where the target was struck, one below, and a small chunk right where the poplar had struck, made so hasty by the impact that it would speed off without waiting for the other, larger fragments. The overall effect of this was that a small portion in the middle of the target branch would suddenly be several dozen feet away, and the two remaining pieces would spin off at a relatively sedate pace. I spent about about fifteen minutes tossing oak and pine branches (of a similar diameter to that of my armament) into the air and whacking them so hard that the broken pieces would whizz off and lodge in the mud of the nearby creek. Great fun - I would've spent longer at it, but my dad was yelling my name and I managed, by some unhappy turn of fate, to hear him. He wanted me to sign cards, for Aphrodite's sake.
I also pegged my first kill using my air rifle's recently zeroed scope. It's an odd thing - when I shoot birds without killing them, downy feathers go everywhere; but when I actually take them out, they drop like stones with nary a bit of plumage lost. Maybe it's because the shots which don't kill them just skim off feathers as opposed to striking actual birdness. "Flesh" would be the word, I suppose.
posted on Wednesday, April 16, 2003
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The WSOGMM (Whole Sort of General Mish Mash) is real, according to Scientific American. But, of course, they had to coin an over-syllabled, jargon-stuffed term like "multiverse."
posted on Tuesday, April 15, 2003
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How is it possible for a sight this beautiful to exist? Imagine being there, hanging in a point in space from which you can see the stars twinkling ever so slightly, and imagine the way the Crescent Nebula would glow in human eyes.
posted on Tuesday, April 15, 2003
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Is it summer already? Hannah's back and yelling l33tsp34k.
And aside from gamerish crypticality and looking eerily like Seraphim, she had some other good stuff to say:
I'm tired of being. I don't really want to stop being, I just want a little break. Or a big break, I would be okay with a big break. I don't want to have to deal with people, or not having to worry about offending people, or worry about how they're treating me, but at the same time, I want to spend more time with my friends. And not at school. Those are more or less the ideas that I haven't been able to scrounge words for lately. I know this is a sorry-ass excuse for a post; hopefully I'll have something better later, but right now the above quote expresses me too well for me to say anything both worthwhile and coherent.
And, since I'm already shamelessly ripping off other peoples' posts...
I've completely lost interest in everything school-related [except Latin], and there are nights when I'll just never quite have the willpower to do any of my homework. Again, someone else (in this case, Trevor) has, to keep it simple, said it. Hey, one good linking deserves another - although that permalink probably won't work unless Trevor gets around to republishing his archives. And what's with using square brackets instead of parentheses? Is he too good for those or something?
posted on Tuesday, April 15, 2003
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Done with my English paper at last. And no more stomachache.
Life has been dull of late. I'm not feeling explicitly bad or even weird right now; I'm just ready for something interesting to happen.
Damn school. No, actually, it's not school I dislike right now; it's monotony. Damn monotony; may it burn in hell.
This is one of those times I wish I could just pick someone (no, not just anyone) and start being madly in love, or infatuated at least.
...Infatuation wouldn't be so bad if it would only last.
posted on Monday, April 14, 2003
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Feint and re-post!
And with a cloud of dust, a flash of steel, and a snap of a blood-red pennant in the wind, I'm off to...
...write an essay for English.
Minus dust, steel, and pennant, that is.
And plus a stomachache.
And minus an idea for what to write about.
I wonder if all this complaining counts as angst.
posted on Monday, April 14, 2003
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My blog has been too upbeat lately. I need more angst in here, so that people won't get the wrong impression.
posted on Monday, April 14, 2003
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Cursed library. I'm quite sure that it has been their tradition for a very long time to close at like nine or something on Saturdays. Closing early on Sundays is understandable, but this is an abomination (see "Hours" section). And I had to pedal uphill on the way home. Life sucks.
Nonetheless, my good mood remained intact. Have I ever mentioned how exhausting it is to play five-capture instagib in CTF-Chrome, on a server where the elite folks play? And then go on to CTF-Orbital? I'm still sweating and twitching...
posted on Saturday, April 12, 2003
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Opening my windows sounds like a fantastic idea. The fact of how nice this day is took a while to sink in, but right now I'm in a generally wonderful mood.
I neglected to mention yesterday that I pulled my Gamo air rifle off the shelf and finally got around to zeroing the scope. It took a lot less time than I thought - an hour or two working with it, and I managed to get it from about eight inches off (shooting from forty feet) to maybe a half inch, or one inch at the most. Today I plan to get it as good as possible, which will involve rigging some kind of cradle to hold it in; I was simply bracing against a tree yesterday but that won't be good enough anymore.
Then, maybe I'll go after some annoying forest creatures. Heh heh heh...
I also plan to bike down to the library and pick up William Gibson's latest book, Pattern Recognition.
posted on Saturday, April 12, 2003
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Blogging in Latin is actually pretty fun. The effort it takes to decode Cicero's prose has gotten me even more into the language. I don't think I could ever use participles the way he does, though...
posted on Saturday, April 12, 2003
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Ultima nox erat nox prima somni firmi quae temporem longum habui. Hodie me magnopere delectaturum esse fortasse puto.
posted on Saturday, April 12, 2003
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It is now late Friday night. This hasn't been what I'd call an eventful day, but... at least I can relax a bit.
posted on Saturday, April 12, 2003
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"'When do hedgehogs start hibernating?'
'Sometime in spring, I think.'
'I'll be in shortly after that.'
'Righty-ho.'"
- So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, Douglas Adams
Does this make Hannah's blog (or Hannah herself) a hedgehog? Could it even signify that she thinks of herself as Fenchurch? The mind crumples in confusion.
Nihil de causa pro dicta eius scio; et tempus inter nunc aestatemque maius fieri videtur etiam brevius dum decet.
The above can be roughly translated as: "I don't know why she's decided to stop posting for a while, but it kind of sucks."
Very roughly. I've got this whole eloquence buzzflapper down as flat as a pancake. W3rd.
posted on Thursday, April 10, 2003
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So now I'm in 1st period AP GoPo on Thursday morning. I'm "preparing" for a class my group will have to teach on the subject of foreign policy. Thankfully Mrs. Newmark doesn't make us do this often - not that my group is all slackers or anything like that, just that I view making students teach the class as a lame-ass copout tactic and quite a waste of the students' time.
I have an excuse for not doing useful work: the main thing that "useful work" entails at this moment is gaining expertise on how public opinion affects foreign policy, and that requires my Government textbook, which Matt's using right now.
I'm in a mood that is probably best described as "rollickingly anger-prone." First, I found out this morning that Sarah has decided she has to stick around after school for nearly an hour. This wouldn't be an especially big deal except that I have an orthodontic appointment quite soon after school today, and I need to get home quickly. She could've at least mentioned it sooner...
Secondly I'm just kind of tired and ticked off in general, and I don't want to have to hear people say foolish things. I have, however, been saying a great deal of foolish things myself today. Call me a hypocrite, do you? Shut up and don't say foolish things.
Oh yes, and once again, I've got another browser window with a Google search running. Just in case.
posted on Thursday, April 10, 2003
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I could spend hours on this.
posted on Wednesday, April 09, 2003
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If I'm on the highway, and look out the window, and (this is the important thing) manage to see past the edge of the road, I am struck by the amount of forest there is. I am banged over the head with the fact and left with a mild concussion. I don't know why, but I wish that I could take some food and water, something to read or listen to, and maybe as well something fun and minorly useful like a hunting knife, and just walk through these beautiful deciduous spring forests of North Carolina (only 1 in 5 trees or less should be a pine), for days and days and days and all the nights in between, and maybe just keep heading straight for dead center of nowhere, bathe in the sunlight filtering through the glorious new leaves, sit on top of a grassy hill and watch clouds billow and burst overhead, count meteors and make up my own constellations, and generally see no signs of civilization whatsoever. My thoughts are only half-polarized but I think their basic direction is that I wish this planet was a good deal more isolated.
posted on Wednesday, April 09, 2003
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It's a long way from Miami to L.A.
It's a longer way from yesterday
To where I am today
It's a long way from my thoughts to what I'll say
It's a long, long way from paradise
To where I am today
It's a long way from the moon up to the sun
It's a longer road ahead of me
The road that I've begun
Stop to think of all the time I've lost
Start to think of all the bridges
That I've burned, that must be crossed
I can see the stars from way down here
But I can't fall asleep behind the wheel
... watch the sunlight taking over, over
Taking over, take me over
I've seen ashes
Shine like chrome
Someday I'll see home
- Home, Switchfoot
posted on Wednesday, April 09, 2003
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How can anyone see a picture like this and still think humanity doesn't need space travel?
posted on Tuesday, April 08, 2003
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There's a very thought-provoking article over at Salon.com written by Sheldon Pacotti, the lead writer of Deus Ex (and Deus Ex 2 as well). No, it is not about Deus Ex; there are only a few references to the game. But it is about some of the problems presented to society when technology becomes both deadly and commonplace, which is an issue which Deus Ex focuses on rather heavily.
posted on Tuesday, April 08, 2003
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Nicely rainy today, if a bit cold. Warm it up to sixty degrees or so and I wouldn't mind this weather in the least.
posted on Monday, April 07, 2003
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][ 4m t3h wi3ld3r 0f gr473 1nflu3n(3!!!!!!!!!!!1111
And just so you know, Hannah, your permalinks don't work either. Mine would work if I would quit getting that stupid Error 203 message when I try to republish my archives.
posted on Sunday, April 06, 2003
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I was thinking a few seconds ago about how Hannah, Trevor and I link to each other in our blogs, and it reminded me of something: the datacubes that Erin, Decker, and Young left for each other as the NSF pulled out of base after base in Deus Ex. Those three were NSF "terrorists," and the notes they wrote often provided useful information which wasn't intended to fall into the player character's hands. The notes often contained references to previous notes, so if the player was sharp enough to find them all, a good idea of who they were and how they related to each other could be formed. Through all of the part of the game where JC Denton is hunting the NSF, the three of them were always one step ahead. I think I recall seeing references to them later in the game - in one of the Oracle e-mails received by Alex Jacobson, perhaps? - but I'm not sure. There was enough character development through those datacubes to make me hope they made it out of the whole mess alive.
There's probably exactly one person who will read this and have any idea what I'm talking about. The correct solution for this problem would be for all of you to go play Deus Ex.
posted on Sunday, April 06, 2003
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Trevor has pointed out that I spelled the name of a movie wrong, and it has been duly corrected.
And wishes of a joyous birthday go out to Hannah, for today it is truly her birthday.
posted on Sunday, April 06, 2003
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I'm going to try to be quiet and low-key at school for a few days.
Life was good a week or two ago, and I think it would still be good now if it would only stick around. Reality's been eluding me, and as a consequence it seems as though there's some large distance between me and everyone else, like I'm on my own island and everyone on the continent is shouting at me, but I can barely hear them over the tide. Sometimes, on those very sunny days, I'll be outside with friends, and it'll suddenly be as though I'm watching a video with headphones on. Colors go washed-out, everyone's voices blend and fade; people move their lips and look at me, but how can I know what they're saying?
posted on Sunday, April 06, 2003
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Hannah's party last night was great fun. Sushi, cheesecake, funny movie (My Cousin Vinny), what more could one ask for?
Oh yeah, there were some people there as well. Or something... I think I knew some of their names. Maybe?
Well, actually there were only two people there I didn't know, and I knew their names by the end of the party. I don't expect I shall ever see them again, ever; but I felt kind of sorry for them because the rest of us all knew each other (at least by name) and they didn't know any of us, except Hannah. And I'm not sure whether one of them knew her or not. In any case, it was fun.
Trevor and I were talking the other day about visiting Mr. Dellinger this summer. It would be great to see him; and I'd love to see what he thinks of the current states of our respective lives. Trevor wishes to bring Erica along, the point of which I'm not sure of. She's his girlfriend and all, and very cool, but what connection does she have to Mr. Dellinger? I'm not angry or resentful or anything like that, just confused - would she be there for any reason besides the fact that she and Trevor like each other very much? Even if she wishes to meet him, she's only a friend of one of his former students, and I think Mr. Dellinger would be rather more willing to talk to us without a stranger thrown in.
It is, at the moment, about a quarter 'til noon on Sunday. I'm not at church because I got up too late; right now I don't really mind. I'll almost certainly be grounded for the better part of eternity (come to think of it, it will probably be the much worse part; I meant "better" in the sense of "larger," which makes no sense; and speaking of size, this parenthetical expression is attaining far too much of it) when my parents get home. However, sitting around without a shirt on and typing blog entries certainly beats the tar out of singing repetitive songs for an hour and a half.
I have two main wishes about life right now. First, I wish that I could have a switch, with which I could turn off all of the power in all of Wake County. This would greatly improve the quality of the late-night strollage in this area. Second, I wish that the pool would be open, and cleansed of all that nastiness with which it's currently endowed (dead frogs, rotting leaves, algae, etc.). If they were to be granted, these wishes might not make me happy as such, but they'd at least make me snicker wickedly, take more long walks at night, and splash about in the late afternoon.
posted on Sunday, April 06, 2003
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I'm looking out from the computer room at the woods behind my house. Blue skies, trees beginning to bloom, and the sunlight is (for the moment) blocked by a cloud, so it's not so glaringly direct. At the moment the view looks damnably attractive.
posted on Saturday, April 05, 2003
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This's been a lousy week overall, partly because I had to write my paper (first half of the week) and mostly because I've just felt rotten the last few days (second half, but that probably goes without saying).
I can't put my finger on exactly how I've felt rotten. One contributing factor is that I haven't been there at all. I hear the things I say and wonder who made them up; my voice and my face don't seem to be my own. I've also had a cold/allergies, and that never helps. I guess I could sum up my week by saying that I've had writer's block, except it doesn't just apply to writing. I've got speaker's block, thinker's block, sleeper's block, and some kind of block I can't think of a name for that mainly consists of not being interested in any girls in particular. My mind is utterly blank, and I've been neglecting my blog recently because there's nothing in my head to write down. It was somewhat of a struggle to even formulate these sentences.
I need to wake up. If you see me around, slap me - not too hard, and no fingernails please - just enough to make me snap out of it. Maybe that'll do the trick. And if not... hell, slap me anyway, I need that now and then.
posted on Saturday, April 05, 2003
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Posting once again from the computer lab at RCHS during 5th period health. I'm very, very fed up with learning about STDs; and I'm ready for this school year to be over.
At least, I'm ready for this year to be over when I don't think about the fact that yet another part of my life trickled from the present to the past without me even noticing its departure. Time is a one-way street and my car is careening out of control.
posted on Wednesday, April 02, 2003
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