I know that my last post was about me never posting, well once again I shall say it. I have been drowning with this new job and with college starting now. I hardly find the time to eat and sleep. Why aren't there more hours in the day? I will start to try posting more often.
Life in the kitchen is not what you want... trust me. It is so f***ing hot in there. I honestly come home some days with my shirt soak purely from the sweat from my body. It's so disgusting. BUT, even though I despise my job to the utmost level, I adore that I get spending money. I have gotten plenty of money and yet I haven't been able to buy myself a gaming system or a laptop, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! It's all the damned books and insurance that I have to pay for.
College just started and I found out that my teacher for chemistry is Indian and has a bad accent. I'll try to make it through class without laughing myself to tears.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
It's been a while...
I haven't posted here in the longest time... I really should. Blah blah blah. School has been a rush and is almost over. Being a senior sucks. There is a hidden good news in that though, it means that AP Chem is officially over, and the class has been reduced to the rubbles of the Science of Trivial Pursuit.
Even though there is much to do, I have still been finding ways to procrastinate to the very end. To do so I have accepted the invitation to go camping this weekend. Misquitoes here I come.
Even though there is much to do, I have still been finding ways to procrastinate to the very end. To do so I have accepted the invitation to go camping this weekend. Misquitoes here I come.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Snowday
Today was a snowday. Awesome. But there is one thing about them that sucks so hard, it makes me hate Wisconsin sometimes. Some below the snow belt may not know what I mean, but after being outside in the cold (and I mean real cold) and you walk in the house you get all itchy. Its the most random feeling in the world. You just itch. I have a scientific guess at what it is, and its that your body is try to push blood flow back into your skin because it decreases because of long exposure to the icy air. But still, you sit there for 5 minutes just itching.
Then there are the roads so slippery. Its so bad. You have to go 5 below the speed limit, and I am a habitual speeder. But what real fun is stopping then slamming the gas and you get up to a whole 15 mph when your speedometer says 60.
Even though its a pain in the ass to shovel the entire driveway and commute everywhere as fast as your grandmother on a rascal, I hope we have another tomorrow. That would be the greatest. I don't care if it means a few more days of school when we should be having summer vacation, a mini vacation in February is much better in my opinion.
Then there are the roads so slippery. Its so bad. You have to go 5 below the speed limit, and I am a habitual speeder. But what real fun is stopping then slamming the gas and you get up to a whole 15 mph when your speedometer says 60.
Even though its a pain in the ass to shovel the entire driveway and commute everywhere as fast as your grandmother on a rascal, I hope we have another tomorrow. That would be the greatest. I don't care if it means a few more days of school when we should be having summer vacation, a mini vacation in February is much better in my opinion.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Fashion = Shame
I don't detest the people that make a living off fashion, I despise the people that are addicted to it. Well, maybe addicted isn't the best word to use here where as dictated is more suiting. I consider it alright to be dressed up all nice for something important or when you feel you want to look nice, but those that make it their mission to do so everyday of their lives is kind of person I don't like. Still, I feel that I'm being to broad. Let me explain.
I don't like the stupid teenage girls that feel that they cannot live a day through school without wearing Hollister, Abercrombie and Bitch, Aeropostale, and so on and so forth. That clothing is so *ugh* boring. Seriously. All of it is the same. We have the big old print that displays where you got it and then the dumbass animal they chose as an icon. If I'm going to be a human billboard, I want compensation, dammit! Its always the same in the way that its either white, pink, some form of blue, or a select earth tone. Pathetic.
I prefer clothing that express who I am and the interests I have. I can say with certainty, no one that wears Hollister is an advocate for the gull. I also despise anything with a logo larger than my hand. The only exceptions to that, are band shirts and things of that nature. The prices are so enormous on some of that stupid Hollister that I can't imagine paying that much on something that will get wrecked eventually. Well, that's about all I have to say about that, I guess.
I don't like the stupid teenage girls that feel that they cannot live a day through school without wearing Hollister, Abercrombie and Bitch, Aeropostale, and so on and so forth. That clothing is so *ugh* boring. Seriously. All of it is the same. We have the big old print that displays where you got it and then the dumbass animal they chose as an icon. If I'm going to be a human billboard, I want compensation, dammit! Its always the same in the way that its either white, pink, some form of blue, or a select earth tone. Pathetic.
I prefer clothing that express who I am and the interests I have. I can say with certainty, no one that wears Hollister is an advocate for the gull. I also despise anything with a logo larger than my hand. The only exceptions to that, are band shirts and things of that nature. The prices are so enormous on some of that stupid Hollister that I can't imagine paying that much on something that will get wrecked eventually. Well, that's about all I have to say about that, I guess.
Glorious Music!
I think I'm going to start sharing my musical taste with all people out there. Yes, that is correct, I will be sharing my wisdom with all of those tricked into the illusion that rap and country music are allowed forms of musical expression. So I'm thinking that I will be posting music videos and alike to my blog with a short little description on my take of the music. I will be posting them periodically and so forth.
To start off, because I can't just post this without a first video, I am choosing "Y Control" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (or as I call them Y^3). Some of you may know from prior posts that I have quite the thing for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Well, IT'S TRUE. I'm a big fan of this band through and through.
The video itself is amusing, but the real catch is the music. A splendid mixture. I chose to use the censored version (video, not audio) because it adds to the hysteria imposed by the children. Some may be asking "What was censored?" and to answer that, it was the middle finger. The way it was scribbled out seems to make the fact that they are children all that much more prevalent. I don't have much more to say because I believe that it can prove itself. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
To start off, because I can't just post this without a first video, I am choosing "Y Control" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (or as I call them Y^3). Some of you may know from prior posts that I have quite the thing for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Well, IT'S TRUE. I'm a big fan of this band through and through.
The video itself is amusing, but the real catch is the music. A splendid mixture. I chose to use the censored version (video, not audio) because it adds to the hysteria imposed by the children. Some may be asking "What was censored?" and to answer that, it was the middle finger. The way it was scribbled out seems to make the fact that they are children all that much more prevalent. I don't have much more to say because I believe that it can prove itself. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
A story I had to make for school...
The sound of records for decades forgotten droned in the background, the scratchy voice crooned past walls of faded pictures. My hand lightly gripping the glass of brandy that sat upon the end table. The thoughts fluttered through my head, butterflies landing then approaching flight once again, obstructing my clarity. It was a Tuesday. June 17th 1987, five years after his death, his memory haunts me to this day, weighing down on me through the past. He can’t truly touch me beyond his grave and that keeps me more or less sane. Becoming aware of the protruding silence, I rocked myself forward to get out of my seat, joints and back aching to resist the movement, to return to the record player. I walk past the pictures lining the room, one catching my eye. It is an old photo; I dressed in white and him in his suit. The crack grazed across the glass, splitting and dividing until it reached the frame. I couldn’t stand to look at the picture any longer and pushed it over like I have many times before. The day kept swaying from good to bad as I listened to the songs of long ago.
Awakening in a cold sweat, I gasp out for what oxygen could be left in the room as my dread grasped me by the neck. His presence pressed down on me and held me flat. Telling me that he would be back to get me for what I had done. With a fairly parched throat and shaking hands, I rise out of bed and head towards the bathroom for a drink. I guzzle the water from the cup stained with tooth paste on the lip. I look into the mirror to convince myself that there wasn’t a large shadow looming over on me. The light buzzed and sputtered above, then with a flash brighter than sight allowed. Popping loudly, it left me alone in the dark. My eyes darted wildly scanning for the scarcest beam of light that was left. Nothing. A thread slithered across my shoulder and caused me to swat manically at the source and hit something solid. Screaming and turning quickly, the sensation of weightlessness overcomes and a cold strike presses down on my shoulder. Feeling light headed and fading, presence came over me once more. Frank had done this to me.
Days following my attack swam by leaving me in ripples of insanity. Frank did this. The musty smell of the room filling my lungs and dulling the time into a daze. Alcohol dripped down my throat as I gazed outward to the street. The neighbor girl sauntered down the sidewalk. Frank once cheated. He picked the most dressed up girl and took her to where the night out shone the day. She was his kind of girl. She stole his heart. I couldn’t stand it. Walking over to the door I called out, “Dear, could you possibly help me lift something. Age has seemed to have gotten the better of me,” and with a quick reply she headed towards my house. I looked around to see if I could find something that could pose me a challenge on most days. “Could you hand me that pan from on top of the fridge?” She found her way to the fridge but couldn’t make it to the back, near the pan sitting precariously near the side. While she drug over the closest chair, I shuffled to the drawer to pull out what I had left of the roll of plastic wrap. Getting off the chair with the glass pan, I came up behind her with the thin sheet pulled between my withered fingers. Moving as fast as my body would let me; I swung the roll in front of her face and pulled it around in a circular motion, tightening it to her features. A shot from an elbow struck me in the sternum sending me back into the wall sending the taste of blood into my mouth. I watched as her painted nails clawed to the places on her face where the green plastic clung. This went for a while, her stumbling across the room and knocking various objects across the room to shatter musically against the floor. She collapsed like a discolored ragdoll onto the linoleum, shuddering once or twice before she ceased movement. Getting up with the remaining strength I had left, I moved to her body. There was a perpetual look of shock left and I couldn’t stand to look at it. Dragging her by the wrist, I led the body to the top of the basement stairs. Nudging with my foot I sent her down. I clasped sides of my head hoping the sound of her falling couldn’t whisper through to my mind. The sound was all too familiar to me already. Crawling to the floor, all I could think was ‘She can’t hurt anyone’s marriage anymore… not the way Frank has.’ as the tears streamed down the crevices of my ashen face.
A week had passed since the girl had made her way to my basement. Sometimes I can hear her scream at night, shaking the vary walls of my room. I couldn’t stay asleep for more than a few hours for fear he may return again. Time drones by in an endless steam; never slowing, never resting. It was a Wednesday evening when I drove myself to the closest convenient store. The line had only one other person in it, a man about mid 40’s. He had been arguing with the cashier for quite some time. “I don’t care whether your manager doesn’t allow checks! I don’t have any cash on me.” His tone sounded much like the one that was used on me. Arguments have been exchanged with Frank many times before, leaving bruises on my arms and legs. After things were paid for with the numerous coupons in my hand bag, I caught up with the man in the parking lot. “Excuse me, but could you help me with my car door? It seems to be having trouble getting open.”
He glanced at the car then to me with a quizzical look but apparently shrugged it off and said “Sure, that’s quite the old model you got there.” We walked over and he put his focus on the driver’s side door. It wasn’t really shut badly; the handle was a bit tricky and required a bit of wiggling. He didn’t seem to take overly long to find a way to open it by eventually placing a solid foot on the door and summoning enough might to pull it open forcefully.
“Could you do me another favor and look on the ground? I dropped a pen there earlier and can’t seem to locate it,” I said as I maneuvered towards the front of the vehicle. He got down onto the dingy concrete sticking his hand into the metal bars and oily carpeting on the bottom of the interior. With an instantaneous shudder I dove onto the front of the door, watching the blur of the heavy door land its solid mass on top of neck. The melodic sound of a snap, he slithered to the ground, eyes open staring into the distance. I then spotted the wallet that slipped from his jacket pocket as it flipped open like a folded newspaper. Glimmering back at me was a trio of smiles; the man, his wife and daughter. He had a family. I heaped myself into the car and drove off in a distressed mentality, leaving the man for someone else to care for. ‘Was his anger deserving?’ I thought to myself.
The sound of the records echoed through the house, wafting at the dust that lamented tops of surfaces in the home. I stood there with my brandy in one hand as I stood on the stool with my rope companion around my neck. Franks voice shouted through the music and my stupor into my heart, my attempts failing to the memory of my husband’s rage. Even after death he held me like an insect on his palm, controlling me. He owned me, even beyond the grave. I took my final step forward and made my way out from under his pressure.
Awakening in a cold sweat, I gasp out for what oxygen could be left in the room as my dread grasped me by the neck. His presence pressed down on me and held me flat. Telling me that he would be back to get me for what I had done. With a fairly parched throat and shaking hands, I rise out of bed and head towards the bathroom for a drink. I guzzle the water from the cup stained with tooth paste on the lip. I look into the mirror to convince myself that there wasn’t a large shadow looming over on me. The light buzzed and sputtered above, then with a flash brighter than sight allowed. Popping loudly, it left me alone in the dark. My eyes darted wildly scanning for the scarcest beam of light that was left. Nothing. A thread slithered across my shoulder and caused me to swat manically at the source and hit something solid. Screaming and turning quickly, the sensation of weightlessness overcomes and a cold strike presses down on my shoulder. Feeling light headed and fading, presence came over me once more. Frank had done this to me.
Days following my attack swam by leaving me in ripples of insanity. Frank did this. The musty smell of the room filling my lungs and dulling the time into a daze. Alcohol dripped down my throat as I gazed outward to the street. The neighbor girl sauntered down the sidewalk. Frank once cheated. He picked the most dressed up girl and took her to where the night out shone the day. She was his kind of girl. She stole his heart. I couldn’t stand it. Walking over to the door I called out, “Dear, could you possibly help me lift something. Age has seemed to have gotten the better of me,” and with a quick reply she headed towards my house. I looked around to see if I could find something that could pose me a challenge on most days. “Could you hand me that pan from on top of the fridge?” She found her way to the fridge but couldn’t make it to the back, near the pan sitting precariously near the side. While she drug over the closest chair, I shuffled to the drawer to pull out what I had left of the roll of plastic wrap. Getting off the chair with the glass pan, I came up behind her with the thin sheet pulled between my withered fingers. Moving as fast as my body would let me; I swung the roll in front of her face and pulled it around in a circular motion, tightening it to her features. A shot from an elbow struck me in the sternum sending me back into the wall sending the taste of blood into my mouth. I watched as her painted nails clawed to the places on her face where the green plastic clung. This went for a while, her stumbling across the room and knocking various objects across the room to shatter musically against the floor. She collapsed like a discolored ragdoll onto the linoleum, shuddering once or twice before she ceased movement. Getting up with the remaining strength I had left, I moved to her body. There was a perpetual look of shock left and I couldn’t stand to look at it. Dragging her by the wrist, I led the body to the top of the basement stairs. Nudging with my foot I sent her down. I clasped sides of my head hoping the sound of her falling couldn’t whisper through to my mind. The sound was all too familiar to me already. Crawling to the floor, all I could think was ‘She can’t hurt anyone’s marriage anymore… not the way Frank has.’ as the tears streamed down the crevices of my ashen face.
A week had passed since the girl had made her way to my basement. Sometimes I can hear her scream at night, shaking the vary walls of my room. I couldn’t stay asleep for more than a few hours for fear he may return again. Time drones by in an endless steam; never slowing, never resting. It was a Wednesday evening when I drove myself to the closest convenient store. The line had only one other person in it, a man about mid 40’s. He had been arguing with the cashier for quite some time. “I don’t care whether your manager doesn’t allow checks! I don’t have any cash on me.” His tone sounded much like the one that was used on me. Arguments have been exchanged with Frank many times before, leaving bruises on my arms and legs. After things were paid for with the numerous coupons in my hand bag, I caught up with the man in the parking lot. “Excuse me, but could you help me with my car door? It seems to be having trouble getting open.”
He glanced at the car then to me with a quizzical look but apparently shrugged it off and said “Sure, that’s quite the old model you got there.” We walked over and he put his focus on the driver’s side door. It wasn’t really shut badly; the handle was a bit tricky and required a bit of wiggling. He didn’t seem to take overly long to find a way to open it by eventually placing a solid foot on the door and summoning enough might to pull it open forcefully.
“Could you do me another favor and look on the ground? I dropped a pen there earlier and can’t seem to locate it,” I said as I maneuvered towards the front of the vehicle. He got down onto the dingy concrete sticking his hand into the metal bars and oily carpeting on the bottom of the interior. With an instantaneous shudder I dove onto the front of the door, watching the blur of the heavy door land its solid mass on top of neck. The melodic sound of a snap, he slithered to the ground, eyes open staring into the distance. I then spotted the wallet that slipped from his jacket pocket as it flipped open like a folded newspaper. Glimmering back at me was a trio of smiles; the man, his wife and daughter. He had a family. I heaped myself into the car and drove off in a distressed mentality, leaving the man for someone else to care for. ‘Was his anger deserving?’ I thought to myself.
The sound of the records echoed through the house, wafting at the dust that lamented tops of surfaces in the home. I stood there with my brandy in one hand as I stood on the stool with my rope companion around my neck. Franks voice shouted through the music and my stupor into my heart, my attempts failing to the memory of my husband’s rage. Even after death he held me like an insect on his palm, controlling me. He owned me, even beyond the grave. I took my final step forward and made my way out from under his pressure.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Animals Don't Have War
This is one of the most over used and ridiculous phrases used in antiwar campaigns. Its a pathetic excuse to use mother nature to express what we truly want. It is true that animals do not have war, the just simply eat each other. Eat. Each. Other. Seriously people, how could you not overlook this crucial fact of the animal kingdom. Things will always eat each other no matter how much we try. Thus using the quote seen above, is thus unjustified. It is merely another example on how uneducated American society can be.
Though war may not be pleasant, it isn't necessarily avoidable. I don't like war myself but there are times that call for it. Sure half the world's modern day hippies may believe it is wrong and some may be right but there truly is no way to measure how justified war can be. War (in my mind) is the most powerful form of communication. Its unignorable. You get your point across and then it is taken notice. Though the other party may be unwilling to listen and not believe the same as you, but other unassociated party's will start to take notice. And by them taking notice they will start to accumulate opinions and hopefully the moral compass takes the correct path. This is one of the only reasons I think war is the correct course of action. Its only called for in special and rare cases. Such as the Holocaust. We couldn't let that one go on.
But take my heed, there are some true nimrods out there. Some that believe that if conflict cannot be removed immediately that the opposing should be destroyed. I have heard on many occasions, from select people, that we should blow up the entire middle east. That is just plain unintelligent and intolerable. True, we are sending troops to help (more like invade) another country and there are casualties doesn't mean that all people are bad. What if we completely removed Germany from the globe? That would have been a disaster.
There are wars out there that we shouldn't have been involved in to begin with. Like the one in the middle east that is currently going on. We were never explicitly asked for assistance (of my knowledge). Why should we be over there. Some say that we are protecting democracy. That type of thinking is more like communism. If the majority of a society is unhappy with a type of government, then it should be changed. Not held the same because someone else who is completely uninvolved says it should stay the same.
I myself don't like the idea of war, I think conflict should be more treated like a large Walmart. That's right, I just said that. We should measure our choices and then choose the best deal. We don't need to destroy what we can't control and shouldn't enforce our beliefs onto others. I'm sure no patriot likes to hear that we should be a communist country, so why can't they feel the same when we make those accusations. We always claim we are protecting the world from communism but what exactly is so bad about it. it may not be the best government system but it sure as hell is not the worst. Some say that the "Child Limit Laws" are terrible. Not really. There is massive over population and the only way to make it stop is to stop the baby flow. No government official is throwing those babies onto the street. That is the people doing that. They broke the law knowingly and they are making a desperate attempt to fix it. I'm sure that most of those parents are so wrenched up over what they did they wish they never had made that choice. And if that doesn't do it for you, think of it this way. There are less communist babies out there to become communist adults.
In short. War is not right. It is not wrong. And nothing is truly fair.
Though war may not be pleasant, it isn't necessarily avoidable. I don't like war myself but there are times that call for it. Sure half the world's modern day hippies may believe it is wrong and some may be right but there truly is no way to measure how justified war can be. War (in my mind) is the most powerful form of communication. Its unignorable. You get your point across and then it is taken notice. Though the other party may be unwilling to listen and not believe the same as you, but other unassociated party's will start to take notice. And by them taking notice they will start to accumulate opinions and hopefully the moral compass takes the correct path. This is one of the only reasons I think war is the correct course of action. Its only called for in special and rare cases. Such as the Holocaust. We couldn't let that one go on.
But take my heed, there are some true nimrods out there. Some that believe that if conflict cannot be removed immediately that the opposing should be destroyed. I have heard on many occasions, from select people, that we should blow up the entire middle east. That is just plain unintelligent and intolerable. True, we are sending troops to help (more like invade) another country and there are casualties doesn't mean that all people are bad. What if we completely removed Germany from the globe? That would have been a disaster.
There are wars out there that we shouldn't have been involved in to begin with. Like the one in the middle east that is currently going on. We were never explicitly asked for assistance (of my knowledge). Why should we be over there. Some say that we are protecting democracy. That type of thinking is more like communism. If the majority of a society is unhappy with a type of government, then it should be changed. Not held the same because someone else who is completely uninvolved says it should stay the same.
I myself don't like the idea of war, I think conflict should be more treated like a large Walmart. That's right, I just said that. We should measure our choices and then choose the best deal. We don't need to destroy what we can't control and shouldn't enforce our beliefs onto others. I'm sure no patriot likes to hear that we should be a communist country, so why can't they feel the same when we make those accusations. We always claim we are protecting the world from communism but what exactly is so bad about it. it may not be the best government system but it sure as hell is not the worst. Some say that the "Child Limit Laws" are terrible. Not really. There is massive over population and the only way to make it stop is to stop the baby flow. No government official is throwing those babies onto the street. That is the people doing that. They broke the law knowingly and they are making a desperate attempt to fix it. I'm sure that most of those parents are so wrenched up over what they did they wish they never had made that choice. And if that doesn't do it for you, think of it this way. There are less communist babies out there to become communist adults.
In short. War is not right. It is not wrong. And nothing is truly fair.
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