College

Hey, I want to blog again. It's been a few months, and I think that's pretty much long enough. But I need to ease myself into it. I'm sure you don't want me to strain myself or anything. Last time I tried this, I pulled my cerebellum by typing too vigorously and was out of commission for, like, months. So I'm just gonna talk about college and junk.

In a few days I'm going to be starting college. Starting college is one of those things that's only a big deal for the people it directly affects, like when the season premiere of Doctor Who airs or when there's a spider in your shower. Someone who doesn't watch Doctor Who might see my Facebook status about how I fasted for a week before the show and think I'm crazy, while anyone who does watch the show would know this behavior to be completely normal. And someone who doesn't have a spider in that shower doesn't think twice about the millions of poor souls cowering naked in the corner of their shower splashing water at the spider in their shower.

...Yes. So for me, the fact that I'm starting college is a pretty big deal. I can already feel myself transforming. Suddenly, everyone still in high school is immature. I have a thirst for coffee and beverages with ping pong balls in them. I have urges to write my screenplay at Starbucks. If you're curious, it's a commentary on the social injustices committed against short men written exclusively with adverbs to symbolize how we need to modify our actions to remedy this.

Naturally, this big step in my life requires lots of preparation, most of which I haven't started on. My room is as messy as it's ever been, I've yet to buy my course books and I haven't decided on a cool new nickname to have everyone call me (I'm thinking either A-Dizzle or Mr. Emma Stone). I have a few vital things, though. I got a printer, some bed sheets and a microwave: the big three. But by far the most important thing I've gotten is my Easy A poster. I don't believe this requires any explanation. Still, I'm pretty unprepared for college. It's going to take some time to get used to, and I'm pretty nervous about all the changes. But this is a worry that most freshmen seem to share.

However, I have managed to get ahead in at least one thing that freshmen worry about. I've found one of the coolest group of friends I could have ever hoped for. I feel exactly like someone would feel if the walked into a casino, pulled the lever on a slot machine and won the jackpot, except "probably slightly more extremely" poor (the part in quotes is an excerpt from my screenplay). I mean, that's practically how I found these friends. Pure chance. And it feels pretty good.

Now that I think about it, I'm getting pretty lucky right now. I should probably use this luck to go win the jackpot at a casino so that my debt stops rivaling that of the United States. </lamejoke>

Forever Alone

I'm lonely. I don't know how much longer I can handle this. Probably, like, another year. After that, I'll probably go crazy. I fantasize all the time about what it would be like. I'm so desperate, I even google pictures. So many pictures. And I click on every single one. You know, so I can see them in more detail. Except for when the image is the same size. That stuff sucks. And sometimes the image is even smaller. What's up with that crap? Now that I think about it, I don't click on every picture. Some of them are ugly as hell. But I click on a lot of them. I can't help it. I mean, look at this.

Frickin' hot, right?

So amazing. You can't even begin to imagine how badly I want one. A tortoise. Not a turtle. I don't have anything against aquatic animals, I just think it's a lot more difficult to create a beautiful and long-lasting friendship with someone when they're underwater most of the time. Have you ever tried to talk to someone underwater? It doesn't work. 

And I don't want just any tortoise. I want a Russian tortoise, and I want one for a number of reasons:

1. They live for 75 years. That's, like, practically as long as I'm gonna live. I'd never be lonely again.

2. They'd be really good spies. You don't often hear about non-Russian spies.

3. Russian accents are freaking bad-ass. I know tortoises don't talk often, but I want mine to be thinking in a freaking awesome accent.

And I already have an awesome name for him. Charleton. The "e" is silent. It's just there to make it fancier so it goes with the monocle that he's going to be wearing.

18 Thoughts for (Nearly) 18 Years

It's been a while since I've posted a blog entry. Don't think I haven't tried to write something. I've tried several times, each attempt thwarted by a lack of motivation. But now I'm writing this. I can't think of a topic to write on, or a theme, or whatever, so instead of coming up with one, I've decided to just let the thoughts flow.

1. School is becoming a steadily-increasing annoyance in my life. It's getting in the way of important things like my music, my art, and my internet.

2. Speaking of school, I have to apply to colleges, like, now. Every time I begin to research that stuff, I get overwhelmed. This is mainly because I'm not quite sure what I want to major in, and I have the idea ingrained into my being that I need to choose a school based on my major. What I need to do is just find schools that are generally good in all the junk I think I might want to do like audio-engineering, anthropology, psychology, bio-engineering, film, etc. Bleh, this is going to be fun.

3. I'm thoroughly enjoying my glasses. I can see now, and it's amazing. I don't know how I managed to get around before them.

4. I'm growing out my facial hair to see how it looks with my glasses. It looks fantastic.*

5. I need to blog about my trip to Cost Cutters. There were some very funny things happening in there, but they were all very subtle. I'll save it for a later date, but I'll say there was a homosexual, a homophobic, and a playa in there.

6. This is delicious.

7. Remember the good old days? Back when YouTube wasn't plagued by commercials? Those were nice. I mean, the commercials aren't even the ones you want to watch online (like this one or this). They're always lame car, political, or tampon commercials.

8. Speaking of politics, I wish that I had turned eighteen before the elections. I'd been digesting so much about all the issues that if I'd have thrown up, it would probably be one of those voters guides.

9. I'm not as excited for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows as I thought I would be. However, I'm am still going to the midnight premier.

10. The world would be a better place without those bracelets that are different shapes.

11. I may just be saying that because whenever I have one, it promptly breaks.

12. CRAAAAAP. Just killed a freaking spider. That bastard almost killed me.

13. I really don't like it when I get a package in the mail, and it looks like it got attacked by some tape-wielding commando. I mean seriously, why does it need that much tape? Were the contents desperately trying to escape? Did the box look extra-expensive, so it needed extra protection? Maybe the workers just get bored.

14. Whenever I hear the question, "If your house was burning down and you only had time to save one thing, what would you save?" I can never come up with a straight answer. First I think, "Uh, duh. My guitar," but then I start thinking about all the other stuff I'd want to save, like the computer or some photos or my other guitar. That's when I begin to dismiss the question, starting with its absurdity. I mean, why would it take just as long to grab my guitar and run out of the house as it would for me to run downstairs, unplug the computer and monitor, find a way to balance the computer, monitor and speakers in my arms, and carry it all outside through the fire? That's crazy.

Then I wonder why I'd only be able to grab one thing. What if everything was right next to each other? I could probably grab like five things before I really had to leave. Why couldn't I just throw stuff out my window and save it like that? I could probably save most of my books and clothes that way.

So I keep everything I'd want to keep, were there a fire, in one spot.

15. I'm pretty sure I broke my toe. I jumped and landed on top of it somehow, and now it hurts. And toe pain is one of the symptoms of a broken toe. (I checked)

Also, I think I have viral gastroenteritis or giardiasis, and maybe cancer.

16. I wish that no one had ever invented the gummy vitamin. They are too delicious. They aren't practically gummy bears; they are gummy bears, only you can overdose on them and die. I can imagine what the people who made them were thinking.

"You know, kids never eat their vitamins because they're gross and chalky and shaped like Fred Flintstone, so let's make them sooooo damn good that they just can't get enough of them. Malnourished children are a much more serious problem than children dying from vitamin D overdoses caused by delicious, bear-shaped, delicious vitamins that are delicious."

...Or something along those lines.

17. Also, is it "gummy" or "gummi"?

18. I got hit on by the Red Cross blood drive workers today. They were all like, "Oh, you have O+ blood! That's sexy!" and, "You have so much iron in your sexy O+ blood!" and, "Your veins are so big! I mean, look at that! It's huge! It'll be so easy to take your sensual, iron-rich O+ blood."

*For girls, this reads, "I think this looks fantastic, but I need to be told that it actually makes me look like a hobo."

Friendship

On more than one occasion, I've found myself in positions that could have easily been avoided. For instance, I am currently upside down in my chair. That could have been avoided had I placed my butt on the chair first, rather than my face.

I could have also avoided embarrassment in social situations by thinking about what I say before I say it. I'm sure I've scared off  a number of potential friends by telling them things like, "My cat threw up on me yesterday. It was yellow. Oh don’t worry, not the cat. The puke," or, "I once ate a beetle because it looked like a Raisenet!" or, "I love you." I’m sure it happens to you as often as it does me.

It’s really a painful situation for all taking part in the banter (unless someone’s a d-bag). After I say something stupid, my thoughts are kind of like this: Oh. My. God. Who just said that? That was so stupid of them. Wait…that was me! GAH! WHAT THE HECK. Stop looking at me like that! Uhh, I must redeem myself…Uhhh…uhhhh, “Just kidding!” [everyone laughs awkwardly]

Everyone else is thinking something along the lines of Wow. This poor guy. I can’t believe he just said that. What should I do? I could laugh it off, but he might think I’m laughing at him…’cause I would be. I wonder if it tasted like a Raisenet. Oh, wait. He just said he’s kidding [awkward laughs].

The jerks that are in on the conversation start laughing hysterically and thinking My hair is so cool. Where’s a mirror. Ooooh, yeah. Sexy.

[paragraph smoothly leading transition to next paragraph about main topic]

And though lions would be ten times more awesome if they had laser vision and could fly, they still wouldn’t make good friends, and not just because of their chainsaw claws. They wouldn’t be able to do the two basic things that make people friends: shared experiences (lions aren’t allowed into movies – they distract the audience with lasers on the screen) and conversation (their accents are horrible).

Shared Experiences

After you go to the movies or to a restaurant or whatever with some friends or acquaintances, you always feel closer to everyone who was there. Unless you told them about your cat’s puke (or unless someone was a total jerk). This is because suddenly you have something in common with everyone who was there: the experience.

The experience is now something that everyone who was present can draw on when talking to each other. They can be like, “Oh, hey! Remember that one night when I did that thing with the straw and the waitress?” “OH YEAH! That was awesome! Haha!” “I know!” Only the people who were present will have a clue what they are talking about.

Not all experiences are created equal, however. Saying, “Remember that one time when we were walking to class and nothing particularly interesting happened?” is bound to get a less enthusiastic response than, “Remember that one time when we were cliff diving and that lion flew over and caught us? His accent was hilarious!” Here are some different experiences and their likely effectiveness in bringing people together.

-Watching television: It’s not very effective

-Sleeping: It doesn’t effect FRIEND.

-Seeing a good movie: Normal effectiveness

-Discovering a world with a totally rad lion in the back of a wardrobe – Like, really really effective (But what the heck were you planning on doing in there?)

The experiences don’t necessarily have to be fun to make people better friends. Traumatic experiences also bring people closer together.

-Stubbing your toe: Not effective at all, and everyone thinks you’re a wimp because your eyes start watering.

-Everyone present stubs toes: A little effective

-Seeing a bad movie: Kind of effective

-Emergency room run: Very effective.

-Shank or gunshot wound: It’s super effective! (must be accompanied by ER run, however)

Of course, this has its exceptions. For instance, if you stabbed your friend, that could be pretty bad for the friendship, even if you drove him to the ER afterward. Death can do some considerable damage to the friendship as well.

Conversation

Conversation is a different creature from shared experiences. Unlike those, with a conversation you can’t just jump right into the good stuff. There is a very strict code of conduct when it comes to conversations.

First of all, there are three different levels of conversation: “shallow”, “deep”, and “like, really deep.”

Shallow conversation topics are what you would expect. They consist of things you talk about with strangers when forced to interact with them, such as the weather, the news, and how one time you threw up on your dog (oh, wait…). Compliments about appearance also are in this category, but you must use them sparingly and subtly. If you overuse them or interject with one at an inappropriate time, bad things happen (involving some tweezers and arm hair).

Topics in the “deep” category deal mostly with emotions or emotional things that aren’t normally considered appropriate to discuss with strangers. Things like embarrassing anecdotes, love life, and feelings that don’t involve the person you’re talking to are on this level. Compliments about someone’s personality fall under here, too.

Things that are, like, really deep are secrets, like how you sleep with your teddy bear still, or how you have all the seasons of Gilmore Girls on DVD, or how you have a shrine to Ke$ha in your closet.

With those in mind, let’s see the rules for what society dictates is a normal conversation.

1.      Start with the shallow.

2.      After (or if) initial awkward interaction subsides, you can move to deep stuff.

3.      Repeat about a billion times.

4.      After step three, it’s probably safe to proceed to, like, really deep stuff.

Deviations from this method can result in a number of different situations.

1. “This is a little awkward.” This usually happens when you proceed to step two prematurely. They don’t know what to say, and their lack of response makes you self-conscious. D-bags do this religiously.

You: How’re you liking this weather.

Stranger: It’s nice.

You: Yeah. You are so nice and caring.

Stranger: Who are you?

You: But you can be a little selfish. I ran over my neighbor’s cat this morning.

Stranger: …

2. “He’s outgoing.” This also happens when you skip to step two, but it’s done with charisma and class.

3. “I think you’re creepy.” This always happens when you jump directly to step four and skip the other three. No exceptions. You can’t tell someone whose name you just learned that you occasionally feel the desire to dress up as a woman. You just can’t. Unless you’re a woman, I guess. It would still be kind of creepy to tell someone that, though. This also occurs when you repeatedly proceed to step two prematurely.

You: Hello!

Stranger: Hi.

[awkward silence]

You: So, I kind of think I might kind of, like, like this one girl. She’s so nice. At least I think she is. I’m divorced. Well, kind of. It's complicated

Stranger (now creeped out): Oh…uh, that’s cool.

You: Yeah. I love you. What?

Stranger: …

As a rule of thumb, with acquaintances you should stick to shallow topics. With friends, you can use shallow and deep topics. Reserve the really deep stuff for people you know won’t get creeped out.

Spiders

Spiders and I have a love-hate relationship.

We both hate each other, and we both love to hate each other.

It wasn't always this way, though...oh, wait. I think it was. I honestly didn't realize how deep-seated our blood feud was until now when I tried to think of a time when I didn't hate spiders (here's a secret: I couldn't).

What I did remember was looking flipping through children's science books when I was young, fascinated with everything...except the spiders. I would purposefully skip over the pages about them, or, if there was a particular bit of information I wanted to read on the same page, I would cover up the pictures of spiders.

Our feud started to pick up pace in middle school when spiders started stealing my socks (I know it was them). That's when I adopted my mantra, "The only good spider is a dead spider." It's true. How many spiders do you see volunteering at hospitals or donating money to charity? None, that's how many. You can't even find one spider that isn't currently plotting a murder.

See this bugger?

Yeah, that's right. He is scary. He's the Tree-dwelling Funnel-web spider. He's aggressive. If you get close to him, he stands on his hind legs to get ready to pounce. What's worse is that his poison doesn't affect most animals. His prey consists of monkeys and humans, yo. Tell me that you didn't just pee your pants. Go ahead, tell me.

...You're such a liar. Anyway, I'm pretty sure there's on of these in my garage or something. He's been sending waves of spiders after me for years now. I thwarted on of his biggest advances several years ago, and since then, I think he's been being pretty cautious.

You see, one night I was playing video games, minding my own business, when suddenly, the most disgusting, creepy-looking spider you could ever imagine was running right at me. I grabbed a shoe and sent him back to spider hell (there is no spider heaven). Five minutes later, a freaking black widow is advancing on my position. I panicked, but managed to send her back from whence she came too. She looked like this:

After that, I knew something was up.

I grabbed a can of bug spray and searched the house. I found about three separate ambushes set up for me: one in the television room, one in my bedroom, and one in the bathroom each consisting of two or more spiders. 

For some reason, I went into the garage that night. Why I would go to spider central after having survived several attempts at taking my life, I don't know. But that was when I saw him: the big boss. I knew he was the evil mastermind behind the attacks from the moment I saw him. He was standing there looking all smug - right there in front of the door. I whipped out the spray, but too late. He had already scurried back to his lair. I was a paranoid mess for the rest of the night.

One of these days, we're going to face off. Like Harry Potter and Voldemort, but with less wands and love and stuff, and more shoes and guts and bug spray.

9 Things I Enjoy

1. That moment immediately after killing a spider. It's that moment where you feel the relief wash over you. You know the world has one less spider to worry about, and you feel as if you have done the world a great justice. It's a very short-lived feeling, however. You quickly realize that where there is one spider, there are more...just out of sight...likely planning to avenge their fallen comrade's death tonight while you sleep.

2. Waking up to the sound of rain on my window. It's nice.

3. Being able to enjoy my birthdays. It seems that past age twenty-five, birthdays become something to dread. You are no longer getting older, you're just getting old.* Plus, most of the presents you get you could have bought yourself.

4. Logging into Facebook and having notifications. What? Someone appreciates me? I wonder who it is! I wonder what it's about! I hope they liked my status. Those are my favorite song lyrics, like, ever. Ke$ha is so deep. What if they liked it and commented on it! What if they're all comments! Gah! I'm so excited!

5. Waking up before my alarm clock. Everyone hates their alarm clock. It's a universal truth as absolute as death or the fact that everyone at, one point or another, accidentally swallows a beetle they mistook to be a Raisinette...Wait, what? You haven't? Well, you will. Trust me.

Anyway, it's always fun to beat your alarm clock at his own game. You can celebrate by taunting him, turning him off, or getting revenge by screeching in his face. That'll teach him.

6. Finding money in your pockets. Almost as good as finding it in someone else's.

7. Scaring cats. They get all puffy.

8. Cats that chase lasers. They are automatically ten times cooler than cats that don't. And their twenty times cooler when they're out for the little, elusive dot's blood, when they chase that thing with everything they've got. Only one thing could be better than this. (Hint: it's the same thing, only with tile floors.)

9. Mandarin oranges. They're like baby oranges.

*I apologize if I ruined birthdays for you.

Brain

My brain hates me. 

He doesn't just dislike me. If he saw me out in public somewhere, he wouldn't just avert his gaze. He would  plot an elaborate scheme to murder me involving apple juice, rubbing alcohol, and spiders all while muttering nasty things under his breath, like how I'm nothing without him and how I should go die in a ditch.

Fortunately, he kinda sorta needs me somewhat in a way that if I were to die, he'd probably die too. So instead, he makes me miserable in a great number of non-lethal ways. He forgets birthdays I want to remember. He messes with my emotions. He makes my muscles twitching incessantly when he thinks he's being over-worked (or he's bored).

He's particularly fickle when it comes to academics. I've come to find that the majority of the time, he cooperates when it benefits him. He enjoys learning new things since, face it, he can't really do much else for fun. He usually helps me on tests and stuff too, since if I do well, he gets more informative fodder. But on some odd occasions, he just decides to stop working during important tests or activities that you would think he'd benefit from. I think he does it to make sure I know who's in charge.

He flexed his figurative muscles during the SAT when I was doing the timed essay. He held a good idea just out of reach, sometimes throwing little parts of it out for me to grab, but not enough to build anything out of. He single-handedly kept me from getting over a 2000. That jerk.

To keep me in constant fear of essays of the timed variety, he's done that with one I've had since then.

If I were to have a conversation with him, it'd probably go like this:

Me:  'Sup, Brain?

Brain: I hate you.

Me: Yo, I know, dude. That timed essay yesterday? That sucked. Not cool, man.

Brain: I know, it was awesome, right? You like failed totes. Big time. Good times, good times.

Me: You make me sad.

Brain: You bet I do, sucka!

What a dick.

...So to speak.