Christmastime, the only time of the year you can say "Ho, Ho, Ho" to people and claim you were being festive

I doubt most of you are going to read this. Tonight you'll be in bed, avoiding the wrath of Santa Claus, and tomorrow you'll be spending time with your families, rejoicing how you didn't get coal with which you could solve the energy crisis. I always knew something was off about you people, but I never quite got it until now that you guys hated the environment.

"9 ways to serve venison" by S. C. Redjacket

It's really been a while since my last blog post, and I honestly don't know why I've held out against my urge to write something like this. The best I can come up with is that my life, through all the stress, has somehow either kept me busy enough or content enough to prevent it. I see it both as a bad thing, since I've been unable to vent about my feelings in terms of recent events, and as a good thing, given I'm somehow more capably handling the turns on the road.

I will add that despite my crash in the middle of the semester, being too primarily focused on asking out my love interest that the stress consumed my life, I somehow came to the realization that I, being busy enough as I am, can't pursue a the establishment of a romantic attachment. If she came up to me, started a conversation, and I saw a golden opportunity, I'd fare pretty well, but what I'm referring to is the pressure on me to go up to her and make a move, in which the anticipation of finally fulfilling what I've desired to do for so long, the anticipation of an event that would brighten my universe up considerably, would most likely kill me. I've said it before: I only feign confidence, and when it comes to asking out the girl of my dreams, I might as well not even bother (If Mikayla could please message me and tell me whether or not she'd be interested in dating me, that would save a shitload of time and stress on my part). Does the guy always have to make the first move?

Moving on from my romantic troubles, I managed to pull ahead of how badly I thought I would fail, and somehow came out with semester averages that rivaled the total averages of Sophomore year. I pushed the idea of asking her to the back of my mind, concentrated on what mattered most (which was surviving school), and I fucking did it. I passed with flying colors (except for theatre, which I wasn't really worried about anyways).

Anyways, I'll try not to keep you too much longer, and more importantly, I'll try not to keep myself too much longer, as noradsanta.org displays Santa drawing nearer and nearer to Austin by the minute. I'd rather not be awake when he arrives, lest my custom ordered set of D&D dice be delivered elsewhere as punishment. My friend and I actually had a funny conversation earlier regarding my friend's astonishment at the fact that I believe in more so in Santa Claus than god. I immediately brought up the counterargument that humankind has so many definitions for a deity we call "god", many differing completely, yet all across the globe, we can agree Kris Kringle is a fat guy with a white beard in a red outfit who delivers presents to children. People don't debate the nature of Santa Claus in regards to his policy of judgement of others over the internet. I mean, even if you're naughty, Santa still leaves you a lump of coal so you can stay warm. I guess Yahweh believes more firmly in the "give a man a fire, he'll be warm for a day; set a man on fire..." adage.

Well, I've gone on about my troubles enough for now. I might rant a little more about it in a new year's post, along with what my new year's resolutions would be (I'd rather not spoil them for you here).

Fuck it, I guess I'm ending here, and hey, maybe then, for your Christmas wish, your love interest might try to call you, but you're too stoked about the arrival of your custom D&D dice set to answer the phone.

Merry Christmas guys, have some fun tomorrow.

When in doubt of what to do, consult an Australian comedian, if he's survived Austrailia

"And here's my idea of romance: you'll soon be dead. Life will sometimes seem long and tough and god, it's tiring, and you will sometimes be happy and sometimes sad, and then you'll be old, and then you'll be dead"

Alright, now that we've gotten Tim Minchin's philosophy out of the way, I felt like I should write this, for posterity at the very least. I haven't written one of these in a long while, so I think that I should. After all, we'll all soon be dead. I do recommend watching this video, take 10 minutes and do it, right now, and pay attention or you'll get lost.

It's hard sometimes not knowing what the fuck to write about, since after all, our pain defines us, and I have more posts about how pissed off I am (or rather, was) than how awesome my day was. Tim Minchin's graduation speech has indeed had an impact on me, as he advocates defining oneself by what they love, not what they hate. Instead of ranting about some asshole driver on the freeway that day, I should instead create a three page thesis of how deep the universe of Captain Yaple is, and how well written the whole storyline is. Keep in mind I actually plan on writing a story like this, as well as publishing it for nonprofit. However, if I do manage to acquire the copyrights to Firefly, as well as other things, I'll have them on Amazon for $7 a copy, so I advise you to set aside some cash for that fateful day.

So apart from the terrible driver behind the wheel of AISD, I feel apt to say that my life has improved somewhat. I get more sleep, drinking Earl Gray tea and settling down with The Fault In Our Stars for the last 15-30 minutes of my evening to get professional tips on romance. In my opinion, I need them.

I find it hilariously ironic that I'm using my wellness counselor's business card as a bookmark

I'm starting to catch up on my homework, and my homework habits I've begun to catch up on as well (for some reason, most likely the video, my inner monologue has an Australian accent). I've thought more of exercising, even though with the cold, I doubt going for a run on a weekend morning will suit me. I always have my usual plethora of friends, a good number of whom I've gotten closer to on all tiers of friendship. I've binged the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and apart from not being able to remember the name of the Queen Bee character at Sunnydale High, my solution being calling her random C names, I love it, especially since Xander and Wash may as well be the same character reading off different scripts; it's nothing bad, of course, and it's actually quite reminiscent of a familiar fallen hero.

Swap the two so that Nicholas Brendan plays the role of Wash, and Alan Tudyk plays the role of Xander
I dare you to find any differences.

How wonderful my life must be right now. I'd also mention the cold emptiness that all of us have that eats away at us in the moments we're alone, but that's always been there, so I doubt it matters.

Of course, this is also that obligational time where I have to mention my love interest's name to see if she's really paying attention. Of course, she isn't, otherwise she'd at least email me with the traditional yes/no/maybe checklist we passed around in elementary school detailing one of the three answers. If there's anything I know of her, Mikayla is an honest yet kind person, to the point where her being brutally honest is almost made to sound like poetry in order to soften the blow. Of course, I'd then tell her to shut the fuck up and tell me either yes or no, to which she'd happily oblige, and to whatever answer she gave, I would listen). Even so, I've decided to put aside the idea of actively seeking out her affection, as the stress of forcing myself to approach her was mainly the reason why my school success collapsed. Barely focusing on her, I find myself too keen to drop anything and nearly everything for her, and if she really does read this, I hope she takes it into account.

There was a Paul Jennings story about a boy, wanting to spend money on taking a girl on a rich and fabulous date, and then learning a lesson from a man who did too much to please everyone around him, and that no matter who he wants to please, he should focus on himself. The story ends with him politely telling the girl, money in hand, to go jump in a lake. It's not that I'll word it that way, but instead of focusing solely on my romantic life, I'll attempt to augment my own living conditions and make my own life better. In the meantime, Mikayla will have to take a number, excepting the possibility that she cuts the entire line like the badass I know her to be and politely demands my affection, which I wouldn't exactly despise (should I randomly encounter a golden opportunity, though, I probably wouldn't hesitate).

Since I'll be taking a shower immediately after the writing of this blog post, I'd like to say in advance to my dear friend Hunter to go fuck himself.

To sum up, my life is better now, at least better than it was before. I'm incredibly thankful that, as usual, the nights before B days are free of any responsibility whatsoever, with the exception of the Huckleberry Finn quiz I know is tomorrow, which I'd like to get a semi-good grade on. The last Huck Finn quiz I bombed, but I made sure to point my boosters to the sky, charge up my payload, and bomb in a ball of condescending fire that swept the classroom. It's like flying an airplane with no one onboard but yourself, realizing you're going to fall out of the sky, and so you set your navigation system to alter course to a nearby concert hall where you know justin beiber, miley cyrus, and kanye west are going to be singing whatever the three person version of a duet is. You die, killing dozens, if not hundreds, but for some reason, everyone posthumously thanks you for it.

I bet I could get a nobel peace prize for doing that

Since I'm at a high point and I don't know how to end this post, I figure I'll just end it here. I'd appreciate if all of you would follow my blog, as I've asked before, since nobody does, and a view count doesn't necessarily dictate how many people like something. Farewell, and I wish a happy day for all of you, too.

All this homework, as well as the curriculums demanding even more homework, is just a huge middle finger to the students, and I'm gonna give you one right back.

Alright, what can I say? Rather, the question is what is there to say? That's one of my dilemmas as a writer, that I never have anything to write about. This blog, as you may have guessed, is pretty much experience based. I write about shit that happens to me, I write about things that I have an impact on, funny things I do or say, and times when I totally kick ass (I love those times).

My problem is the negative feeling that school is giving me. Today, but specifically the first half, I felt dead inside. I could survive APUSH, as that was simple note taking, but physics was another subject entirely (no pun intended). In Physics, I couldn't do a problem to save my life, I was completely placid, with no will to do a problem or even pay attention to the lecture. I swear I do try to listen to those, but my physics teacher talks quietly, and there's an air vent right above us, so excuse me for not being able to concentrate on something I can barely hear in the first place. Not only that, but my eyes burned from lack of sleep stemming from trying to catch up on my Latin homework the previous night, and it was cold this morning, which didn't help at all. If my eyes were burning in the morning, imagine how they were on the bus home.

Don't you love it when your eyes tend to bother you often, especially when you don't get much sleep?
I don't.

It was this time that, surprise surprise, I was practically dead. I'm probably going to have to see my teacher tomorrow during lunch in order for him to tell me what I couldn't hear today. Then again, I'd do that if I had motivation, and ironically, the lack of motivation stems from the overload of homework at school, physics in particular, since I have no time for it.

The worst part about this whole thing? I mentioned it in the last blog post: the school counselors apparently think the solution to Juniors not getting enough sleep is for us to get more sleep. Gee, I never thought of that, I guess it's like building over the walls in Maze Runner.

If I had a choice between travelling 20 miles from school to home, getting home at 5 (school ends at 3:40), eating dinner, taking a shower, then doing APUSH, physics, pre-calculus, and Latin homework (plus all the homework I'm behind on), I would spend a week in that damned maze.

I've been waiting to see my counselor, as I already had an appointment with her. Originally it was to decide what to do in life, and from there I can pick a college, but now? Fuck that shit, I'm gonna be a squeaky wheel and complain. If the school thinks they can cram shitloads of homework onto our backs then claim it's our fault for not getting enough sleep, they're sorely fucking mistaken.

So back to Physics, I didn't do anything. I might've started to, but I pretty much collapsed after 10 minutes. Instead, I did something else. I got out my laptop and wrote. Not a blog post where I bitch about my life for a half hour for you to skim-read in one minute, I wrote fiction, the kind of writing I love as I can be creative rather than cynical for at least a short while. I wrote the background for my character in Dungeons and Dragons, thus morphing him from a set of stats into a real character, with a background that might as well be from an episode of BBC: Merlin. I can only imagine how I can write a crossover between these two universes.

I remember the creation of this background, I remember finishing it, and feeling better. The thing is, it wasn't writing a short story and losing myself in my work that helped me, it was the knowledge that I did something creative, not school mandated (definitely not a homework assignment), and that I basically achieved something of my own capacity and will.

That's the main problem with school, that it doesn't allow this. School keeps me from this, keeps me from refreshing and regenerating myself not through blog posts and sleep, but by the things I do that I want to do. Why can't I, you ask?

Because school forces us to have 5-7 hours of homework a night, and then complains when not enough people are getting 7+ hours of sleep.

All Hail The Rain God!

I'm finally able to write an actual blog post again. I trust everyone read my last blog post about how shit life was, right? Good, it'll put things into perspective.

Today at school, we were given the standard yearly lecture on suicide prevention, and how some people, deprived of any other way to be happy, turn to drugs and alcohol. Of course, this is one of those times that I say that though I may feel depressed at some times, even suicidal, I'll never really do it, because I have too much to live for in the long term. I actually, as I've said in a previous blog post, enjoy sadness and bad days, and the best thing about a bad day is when, all of a sudden, it turns around on you and ends on a high note. In a way, maybe I have turned to drugs, the simple drug of unexpected happiness.

I googled "Happiness is my drug" and this was the first result. I have no idea what it means.

So to recap, the last two weeks have all of a sudden descended to the level of "complete shit". I've been severely behind on my homework, I've been getting less sleep in an effort to keep up on the homework I currently have, and I've gotten nowhere in asking out my love interest to homecoming ("dude, just ask her!" "dude, go fuck yourself!").

On top of that, we had a lecture today on suicide prevention which told us how 70+% of students got less than 7 hours of sleep, and that the lack of sleep was mainly due to stressing over getting homework done on time. Could the problem be that too much homework is being assigned? Of course not! Instead, all the problems are the results of the kids not having a set bedtime at night! I love my counselor (who was giving the lecture), I think she's pretty awesome, but the only reason I didn't speak up about it at the time was because of my being in a crowded theatre hall, and I'm not gonna be a dick to the people who actually are suicidal and actually need the lecture. However, my point still stands...

George Carlin, as always, is tired of your bullshit.

After this, in Physics I practiced Newton's first law ("an object at rest will stay at rest..."), and Pre-cal all I did was make cool paper airplanes, which I totally could have a career in. Finally at lunch, I had to fight another member of my party to the death because we hated each other (at least, our characters did, IRL we both lamented at having to kill off one of our characters). The worst part was, I had to fight the cleric, the most powerful person in the party.

Through the most ingenious stroke of luck within the seven realms, I surprisingly came out on top, my arrow buried in Lebeau's throat, the XP enough to level me up once more (once we convene again on Monday) and now making me the most powerful person in the party for certain. The best part about this is I feared losing because I had already written a backstory for my character, and I'd have to redo it entirely had I died. Not only that, but my character also looks like Gabriel from Supernatural, and who'd ever want kill him?

...Oh

This glorious victory during lunch was more than I could possibly hope for. With the resulting adrenaline surge, I truly felt like I knew I was a badass (I mean, I usually am, but it takes some doing to convince myself of it). I tanked through Latin more easily than usual, and the best part was I felt like I had the confidence to ask out Mikayla, and had I encountered her, I would've done exactly that, and as a result of today, I now have a lasting feeling of victory and triumph (I'm a nerd, I play Dungeons and Dragons, who can blame me?) that I can call on when (not if) I feel nervous.

I know this is definitely going to help me out on this, because in this battle with the cleric, I truly felt like I was going to lose, and due to simple rolls of the dice (she couldn't roll above a 5, with the exception of an 11, and it still wasn't enough), I managed to come out on top.

This of course made me think, if I came out on top in a battle I was sure I was going to lose and fail and lose my honor forever, but managed to triumph because of random ways of how the universe worked, how bad can this be?

How Do I Feel Right Now? Good Question...

I'm starting to feel the pressure of school, what with all my heavy classes on one day, plus my laziness, so I haven't had much time to write any new blog posts. I'm definitely writing one now, however, so feel privileged. Because of the sudden stress of school, plus my everlasting dilemma of asking my love interest to homecoming, I feel as if I'm in an emotional lull. I don't hate life, but I don't love it, in a sense. To make matters worse, our cleric has deserted our party in D&D club in a quite dishonorable fashion.

On the plus side, I'm the most powerful one in the party now

I'll just start with the main thing that's been going on: my love life, *pauses while the audience laughs.* I normally don't have a problem talking to people, and hardly ever do, but of course the girl you secretly love would be harder. I want to ask her out, and I'm putting so much pressure on myself to do so, and for a week she's been nearby, I've known exactly where she was (this is during lunch) and I haven't had the confidence to ask her out; naturally, because I now have the confidence to do so, I have no idea where she is. I know everyone's gonna say "dude, just ask her out!", but saying this to me just increases the sarcasm I bring to our personal relationship.

My Robotics teacher has a picture in his classroom that says "if a pretty picture and a cute saying are enough to motivate you, you have an easy job, the kind robots will be doing soon"

That's how my love life is going in a nutshell, but I'm sure my frustration and exasperation with myself will serve to spur me into action sooner or later (preferably before anyone else asks her out, god forbid).

Meanwhile one of two things has been happening: either school's getting harder, or I'm getting lazier. All of my hard classes are on A days (we have an alternating block schedule) and it's starting to weigh me down. The best I can hope for is that all this laziness and stress is simply being caused by the stress of my anxiety of asking Mikayla out, and by doing so I'll have more will to do work.

I know this is a short one, but I don't know how I'd really flesh it out, plus I think this is enough for all to understand.

"Eh, screw it, I'll just cut way too many holes in a sheet and say it's comedic"

Hey guys! I felt like writing after today, which was a complete lazy day (my favorite kind of day), maybe I just internally wanted to have accomplished something, but I digress.

The problem with claiming I'm not lazy is that I'm not fooling anyone.

Today was fantastic. In AVP we had file saving issues, so no work was done there. In English we wrote our journal/warm ups, which I'm gonna write more about here, and proceeded to talk about bullshit; That is, we talked more about the bible. Robotics I programmed some, and might've made my programming more complicated than it should've been. Theatre? We cleaned the place, which was okay, and my teacher complimented me on my script critique, which was hella uplifting.

If anyone likes, they can read it here.

Now, to the topic of today, which is basically me fleshing out my journal from English.

The topic was simply "October", and we were given 15-20 minutes to write. A few things stood out in my mind, such as Scare for a cure and Christmas decorations (though that probably belonged in "September"), but one thing that piqued my interest was about the issues I've had with our favorite day at the end of the month, which thankfully rests upon a Friday. Yes, my biggest issue the past few years has been Halloween, and it's not because I don't enjoy this holiday. Who the fuck argues against free candy?

I haven't enjoyed this holiday because I've always been so busy around that time that I've never had any time to think about what I want to be, and then when I finally decide, it's the 26th. Freshman year I was a doctor, because that's the only costume my father could whip up in 5 hours on Halloween night. Sophomore year I was a bit more on the ball, and started my costume a week early, and went as the Tenth Doctor; I even met someone dressed as the Fourth Doctor that night, which was an added bonus.

This year, I've decided way in advance who I'm gonna be. I'm going to be my mind's personification of none other than Captain Yaple. I already have the base clothing; I have the shirt, cardigan, and blue jeans (yes, this is matching my Minecraft skin, deal with it). All I need are the electric shortsword and Particle Magnum with holster and I'm all set. I can be Captain Yaple.

Well, these shouldn't have too many legal obstacles to obtain.
Then again, it's Texas, so who cares that I have a gun?

Now, I suppose I should clarify something that I clarified in my journal. Yes, I address myself as Captain Yaple, yet I refer to myself in the third person; why would I do such a thing, if I'm not insane?

I'm fairly certain McKay and I share the flaw of vanity

It's because I'm not Captain Yaple, not really. I do my best, I allow myself to be pushed by my own will to be like him, but I'm not him. I'm as close as I can be. Captain Yaple, at least my mind's personification of him, is a self-created character. I may have gotten the name from Sophomore theatre last year, but the character is my own. When I heard the name, I thought "yep, that's me", and kept it as myself; however, as time went on, I guess I unconsciously realized this as not true, that I wasn't really Captain Yaple, even though sometimes I am.

Captain Yaple isn't me, but he's how I like and want to view myself. He's the amazing character who I strive to become in life. Other people have such a character too, but not as amazing and awesome as Captain Yaple; they choose their characters from books, movies, TV shows. In other words, I'm one of the few original people in the world.

They chose their character because they were able to relate to that character, at least partially, and they saw something in that character that they wanted to achieve in themselves. People read about Tris, related to her past as a shy, silent girl, and they want to be brave. People watch Captain America, relate to his wanting to do the right thing, and so they want to be a badass and pollute the Patomic to no end (seriously, nobody considered the environmental impacts?).

I look at Captain Yaple, as if gazing into a mirror, and relate to him, because despite being the same person sometimes, we're different. Captain Yaple is who I want to be, confident, brave, badass, the guy everyone knows about and likes. Sure, these qualities describe me, some of the time, but I love being Captain Yaple, I love who he is, and no matter how much of a role model anyone is for me in life, I have no greater role model than myself.

How Can Writing Be Real If Our Eyes Aren't Real? Also, Follow If U Luv Jesus.

Alright, before we begin, I'm told by someone that they don't know how to follow my blog, so I'm going to assume that means all of you, too. Listen closely, kids.

1. Proceed to https://www.blogger.com/home. Do not pass "go", do not collect $200.

2. On the left side, about mid-way up the screen, there is a button that says "add"

3. I hope to god that you can figure out on your own to put my blog's link in there. If you can't even do that after the previous sentence, then how the hell are you alive?

Now, without further ado, I shall begin with my usual profound shit about my emotions. Enjoy.



Has your life ever been so startlingly nice at times that you have no idea what you could possibly write about?

We learned a year ago in theatre (shoutout to my theatre teacher who's following my blog post) that our pain is what defines us, and even though we have happy experiences to draw on, it's always the pain and the bad stuff that we remember most. Even if my day ranked a 9, if I experienced a shitty event of some kind, that event might bring me down to a 6, most likely. The sad shit is what we pay attention to, and we never forget the pain we feel, even though happy things last mere weeks.

Ah, the life of a Tyrannosaurus is a simple one.

That being said, my pain is what I like to write about. My blog allows me to have an outlet for me to spit out all my sadness onto a page and get it out of my heart. We enjoy watching bad movies because we love to complain about them (oh, we humans LOVE to complain about shit), we also enjoy reading bad books because we love to complain about them. Why do we enjoy complaining about these things? Because complaining about the bad stuff is just another way of getting it out. Complaining about the bad, like I do in my blog posts, is what helps us vent and let go of it.

Good luck getting that out of your head in the next decade.

Happiness, strangely, has become commonplace for me these days. I usually only write about happiness when it's so big that it outshines all the bad shit that's going on. I write about me being happy because it's a change, and a positive one at that, and I try to put something philosophical in them, but in reality, it's not solely because I want to shed some profound light into your life, but rather because it's a feeling, it's something, and no matter whether it's good or bad, I need to get it out, because if not, I'll obsess over it until it overwhelms me.

Hurrah, journal entries

I've wanted to do a blog post for a while now, but I've faced that utterly terrible hopeless dilemma that causes writers to freak out because they have nothing to write about. The days since my last post haven't been even close to uneventful, but even so, they are common, and it's the common things we take for granted.

...Have I just realized that I like bad days? Weird, especially considering that I never want these good days to end. I have specifically said in one of my previous posts that I do, though, because after all, how can we know when a day is great and amazing if we never occasionally have a day that's nearly complete shit? And even then, how can we think to know how to turn it around into the best day ever?

I suppose, in the end, I just wanted to write, because writing is my catharsis, and I write all kinds of things, things that vary depending on the mood I'm in (you can guess how it looks when my mood is "lazy"). I write from my heart, and I've exhausted my supply of bad things to rant about, which is great, despite the fact that my love life remains unfulfilled, what with barely seeing my love interest at all. I'd complain further, but I figure if you want to read about shitty teenage romance, you'd probably find a book to read instead.

"Those who think we never read the books are gonna be really disappointed to know that we read the books.
Except for twilight...because f*ck twilight" -Cinemasins

After that, feel free to do some complaining of your own.

Self Confidence Issues? Tell Me About It, I've Been Acting As A Sleeper Agent For The Past Two Years.

Okay, I've been wanting to do a blog post all day, and I only figured out what I could write about in the shower. I guess those things really do work for when you need to think.

/r/showerthoughts is where they think about the important things

Anyone who's been following my blog for a while (and I do wish more people would actually click 'follow' on my damn blog) knows that I don't just write about random shit. I write about an emotion I'm surrounded in, and flesh it out to the point where we can go into the deep stuff. I basically follow Forrester's first key to writing, "You write your first draft with your heart, and you rewrite with your head." Simple, right?

I find it amazingly easy to really write, depending on circumstances. My problem is while I write about my feelings and emotions, I find it soul-crushingly harder to voice them aloud. I always talk to people at school, and anyone at my school should know that, however, I don't talk to anyone. If I talk to you, I either A) really want to, B) really need to, or C) I just like you. This means that if you want a conversation to happen between us, start it yourself, because I'm probably not going to.

My demon, my own personal flaw, the one thing I hate about myself most, has always been my self-confidence, because that's the only thing wrong about me that I can't fix that easily. I know why, of course, why my self-confidence plagues me, a person who's pretty pretentious at times. It's because of the exact same reason that Tony Stark has his existential crisis in Iron Man 3.

I used to be pretty self-absorbed, with maybe a little hint of modesty, but not that much, and then I discovered that I was not as important as I thought I was.

Right....people

Picture this: you're on top of the world, you're the awesomest badass the world has ever known. Suddenly, you realize you are no better than anyone else around you, and you're even worse than some people. With a person like me, you cease to think of yourself as self-absorbed and instead fall back on the default that you are worse than everyone, and that you're nothing (this isn't necessarily the case, but bear with me here). It's once again the metaphor of sending 100 watts into a 60 watt bulb. Your tank of self-confidence has gone over the top, tipped over, and you've barely managed to correct yourself, but your tank is now empty, you have nothing. You begin to be paranoid, thinking everyone is judging you. You don't want to come out of your shell, you don't want to risk it where you could lose everything, at least according to your paranoid mind.

This is a painful but necessary realization, and I'm still suffering from the aftereffects of it, but my solution is not to let anyone notice. Fake it until you make it. I'm a lot better off than I was two years ago, even though I still act vain, I still create this illusion of me being on top of the world, I still attempt to believe I am the best.

Of course, that still doesn't mean I am. When I have to socialize randomly, I still feel my heart pumping, adrenaline rushing in. I am still afraid. For an actor, this sucks, as it should. Being on stage doesn't help at all. Your mouth dries up, your words get caught in your throat, you feel like you're about to piss yourself. Stage fright is a hell of a thing, especially to get over.

now THIS is an old reference to make.

Speaking of, I do believe that I am getting over this problem of mine, and that I've improved so much since this quest began. I still get nervous when talking to actual people, sure, but I've branched out a lot since freshman year. I've made tons of friends, I've done so much along the way. (This should motivate me to realize that maybe I really am awesome as hell, but what the fuck do I know?)

My crush, (rather, love interest), is further challenging my social courage, as she very well should. It's been so long since I fell in love with Mikayla (are you paying attention to these? Please do, I'm too nervous to say it out loud) that it just kills me every time I see her and don't say anything. I really want to, but no matter how much I push away my inferiority issues and pump myself up for the action, all that needs to happen is for her to walk into the room and suddenly they're back. I can't do it, it's just insanely intimidating, especially for an idiot like me who can't help but feel this way.

I could go on and on about this, but I'd be wasting the hell out of your time (I'd probably need a separate blog post for it).

My confidence issues are a hell of a problem to tackle, in my opinion, the only real problem I have to face, and even if I do manage to ask her out, I seriously doubt that would solve everything. I still have to take on everything else, but maybe that might be lessened by her. Maybe.

Just maybe...I can be me again, more so than I am now.

Dear Rain God, Could You Please Not?

Hey everyone! Before I begin, I just wanna say that today was dense. I wrote this blog post while listening to this video, and I suggest you read it while doing the same. You don't have to, but it's recommended. Warning, there are spoilers to Season 9 of Supernatural, but not many.

Have you ever spent the first hour of your day (or rather what was supposed to be the first hour) and realized, "yep, it's gonna be one of those days"? That was this morning for me.

Today began the shittiest day I've had in a while: I woke at 2 a.m. due to intense thunder and couldn't fall back asleep if I tried; my bus was 50 minutes late; I barely got to school on time; my binder's shoulder strap came undone as I attempted to get to my first class and all my stuff piled up in my hands; I managed to get to class, exhausted and my eyes burning; I had read the wrong section for my English homework; the project I thought I had finished on Tuesday wasn't actually finished at all; Lastly, my throat was mostly dry all day.

Damn it, Zeus! You ruined the first half of my day!

Each of these trials I cursed myself for braving. I felt physically terrible, and we all know what effect that has upon one's psyche. Had I gone the whole day like this, I might've chalked it all up to a shitty day, and that's that. I wouldn't have thought about it like I do now had this been a full shitty day. A full shitty day is just that. You don't think about it, you just pervade through it, gritting your teeth all the while. Several shitty days in sequence is something else entirely.

Maybe, just maybe...

The latter half of my day was completely the opposite. Had you cut out everything before then, you'd see it as a 9 on my counselor's scale of 10. Maybe the pain I had faced before made the difference between a 7.5-8 and a 9. Everyone knows that the excitement of Friday means nothing to someone who's never known a weekend. Good means nothing to someone who's never known Evil. The same applies here. With no bad days to compare them to, how can our good days be good? A slave knows not a better master until he has served a worse.

So what was the good that happened today? I made a horrible joke in English (One positive characteristic about the Sodomites: they were very creative individuals); one of my friends in theatre is also participating in Scare For A Cure; my theatre teacher appreciated the Cinemasins video I sent her so much that she let me show the class as part of a realism study (spoilers: it was Frozen); finally, we were given an awesome project to present tomorrow that my group came up with an amazing idea for (our project is to come up with an original monster and origin story), and I'm to present it as a monologue in character, so that should go well. I'll be wearing my awesome shirt tomorrow underneath my cardigan, so god knows I'll have confidence (plus my group members assured me I'm the best person for the role, which may or may not be a compliment).

So sure, it wasn't the perfect day. I fully doubt that I'll have it ever in my life. I'll have amazingly great days, and then there are the depressing heart-sucking days, the ones that feed in the darkness. I didn't get to have a full lunch, and did so alone, I never found the courage to conquer my daily challenge of asking out Mikayla (okay, by now I'm doing this just to see if she reads this shit. If you do, I hope that makes this whole thing easier), I still am not the perfect being I envision myself to be.

I still have room to improv(e) the days of my life to be better, somehow. Though my confidence is merely gilded, I still have a chance, a chance to fake it and make it.

And you know what? So do you. If you're the kind of person I'm talking to, you know it. All you depressed, self-harming, suicidal people out there who can't fit in, I said in a previous blog post that I'm not confident, and I only look like I am. I have all these friends because of it. You can too. You have a chance.

I love how asshat religious people claim I should read C.S. Lewis to understand Christianity. Oh, the irony.

So take it, and I will do my best to do the same. I bid thee good fortune, as some may need it, but others? All they need is a spurring motivation.

Right here. Go forth and grow, my followers, and I'll see you wherever we may go.

My Recurring Issues with Social Anxiety and my Attempts at Being Confident -But Wait, There's More!

Have you ever gone to a new club at your school and felt like you were going despite the fact that you weren't even supposed to be there? Have you ever said "hi" to someone and felt like, the moment you said it, they immediately hated you?

I have, and let me tell you, if you haven't been smart enough to figure it out, it sucks.

Why would I ever think that? Why would I ever think I would want to think that? The truth of the matter is, I have no idea. I've been in my school for three years now, and each year I've gradually had more and more friends as time went by. I feel totally comfortable being where I am, and I still suffer from social anxiety whenever I try to do anything involving other people (well, that took a turn into "cheesy support commercial" area). I have no idea why I'm anxious, when my rational mind says I shouldn't be, but your instincts are different, your instincts nag at you, repeatedly saying, "what if?! what if?!"

I went to D&D club yesterday, and I nearly freaked out on the way there. I felt like I was going to be the odd one out, the total noob who didn't know shit in a room full of 30 people who did. Thankfully, this was not the case. There were only ten people in the club, including me, and I at least knew some fantasy references ("so, I think my character's ready to throw a ring into a fiery mountain!"), unlike this other guy, who actually was a total noob and had no idea what the game was. Don't worry, we'll take good care of him.

"Wait, I thought a lack of Intelligence and Wisdom didn't affect sorcerers!"
"Whoops, sorry, that was Composition we were talking about"

Anyways, you've probably wondered by now why I have social anxiety despite this outward show of confidence. My counselor wanted to know some tips for making friends that she could give to other people, one of them was this: I'm not confident. At all. Maybe a little, but I am not the confident awesome badass that you think I am (at least, in terms of confidence).

I saw a video the other day about this author's graduation speech, I forget whose, but I remember one of the key things he said was that he wasn't a good writer, he just pretended to be, and eventually he aced it. Shockingly enough, that evening I had thought to myself and realized that I had been doing the same thing. I hadn't been confident, I had been pretending to be confident, and through that my confidence had soared over the past several years. I had just been following the old adage, "fake it till you make it", nothing more.

If you know me IRL, and I expect you to feel privileged for doing so, you probably might possibly be able to imagine this, but I'm not that confident. Everyone thinks I am, though (except when it comes to my awesome crush, who I'm not entirely sure if she does the same as me (I wouldn't count on it)), and that's because of one simple reason: I pretend to be confident, and this works. I can be as flamboyant as I want to, being a theatre geek, and be nervous as hell to the point of being ready to die of embarrassment, but in my expression and demeanor I can appear as if I care nothing at all.

How do I do it, then? How do I motivate myself to do something I have literally every reason not to? Simple, I use the same approach I use with writing: Don't think, do. I try never to think about the big social thing I'm about to do, I just do it.

Alright, our product placement requirements are achieved. Now can I get paid for the view count?

Let's say you have time to think about what you're about to do. You hesitate, you freeze up, and you refuse to go outside for the rest of the year. The key is to keep it simple. When you don't think about it, it's a lot easier. (NOTE: This is even easier if you're a man.) You have a social thing you need to do, what's the harm, right? That's when you prevent your brain from answering that question, that's when you prevent yourself from becoming paranoid.

This, not a leather couch, is how you truly become comfortable, not in body, but in mind.

However, if you get the chance, go for the couch.

So That's What Happy Hour Feels Like...

Okay, so my mom's revealed that she doesn't like my blog posts being posted under my name because most seem depressing and apparently colleges wouldn't want a depressed person who thinks like this at their school.

Fuck them, this blog post is a happy one.

Today in AVP we watched a movie, a good movie, to say the least. Today we watched "3 O'clock High", a classic 90s movie that turned out to be amazing. Basically, it's about this senior in high school who gets on the bad side of a new kid at school (who's the exact stereotype of a bully), and the bully, Buddy, challenges him to a fight in the parking lot at 3. The main character, Jerry, spends his entire day trying to find ways to get out of it, including seducing his English teacher and bribing the biggest football player in school, Craig, to act as backup (who ends up getting his ass handed to him). In the end, Jerry, faced with no other alternative, says "fuck it" and rides out to battle (especially since he almost bangs his girlfriend by that time) and faces down Buddy. After his best friend and girlfriend attempt to take Buddy down and get flung to the side, and Buddy takes down two cops who try to stop him, Jerry finally subdues Buddy with one extremely telegraphed punch (yes, even more than the one in Back to the Future), and the movie ends with him being the most popular guy in school. I recommend checking this out.

Now, I enjoyed the movie, I really did, but the movie itself isn't what I loved most of all. I loved the aftereffect, I loved the way I felt walking out of that classroom right after the movie ended. I loved the adrenaline rush I was given. I felt like I usually want to be, I felt confident, amazing, I felt like I was on top of the world. Somehow, that rush managed to pervade itself halfway through English.

I was sad that this feeling ended, as it inevitably did, although it wasn't because I had to face a bully. I was sad because I liked it, and it ended, but not entirely. The main adrenaline rush this morning may have worn down after an hour, but I still felt like a badass. I was exactly who I wanted to be, and goddamn, it was amazing. Even at the end of the day, the rain stopped right before I walked outside the theatre to my bus, and I felt even better.

Earn that paycheck, Tyrese! ...oh, wait...

Now, the obligatory news on my relationship status. Yes, I talked to her, barely. Sadly this was before my adrenaline rush and had I encountered her after said adrenaline rush, I probably would've had the courage to ask her out. Maybe. Then again, we're talking about a girl who gives inferiority issues to a guy who can be exceedingly vain, so no guarantees.

This adrenaline rush is more than just me being awesome for one day. Any asshole can be awesome for one day, and this is more than that. This adrenaline rush gave me courage that I didn't need, and it gave me the knowledge that I don't have to be the guy I was yesterday. Yesterday I would've just been who I was, been the standard weirdo in school fool of weirdos (believe it or not, that might force people to be more weird), but today?

Today I rocked the world, and I'll do it again tomorrow, as who needs an adrenaline rush to be awesome?

Well...maybe Jerry.

School Begins Tomorrow, Time To Do Better.

My last day of summer vacation. My last evening of summer vacation. School looms over me, and I know it has to end. I still haven't watched all of supernatural. I'm only on season 8. The move really did take away the time I needed to watch it all.

My goals of the summer are hardly complete. Yes, I managed to finish the latest chapter of my fanfiction. Yes, I managed to learn a little bit about lightsaber combat. No, I didn't watch all of the TV I wanted to watch. I still never had the motivation to do what I wanted to do.

This blog post I'm writing is different than most. Usually I have a clear view of what I want to write about because it's all built up over an extended period of time. Not here. Here I'm just writing as an obligation to a friend, and I don't know what to write about.

Okay....let's just through the basics. I've gotten nowhere with my crush, and one conversation with her shows we share no classes once again. How marvelous. If I turned this into a video blog and started perpetuating crime, there's only one way this could possibly go.

"..."

So back to what we were talking about before this tangent (I actually had to scroll up to see what it was), I think what I want to say is that this year is definitely going to be different from both of my previous years in high school. Freshman year was my setup, Sophomore year was my awakening. What could Junior year be for me?

Thankfully, I've heard on the grapevine that Sophomore year is the hardest out of all the years, and my friend Cole (who tells me he's a lazy ass because of all the shit he went through during Sophomore year) seems to have survived Junior year intact. Hopefully these rumors are true and they don't pull a fast one on our grade. You know how they change it right before it's your turn to participate? Yeah, that. Hopefully they don't do that.

The good news about that, assuming it's true, is that I'll be able to get more personal goals done. Writing fanfiction? In the rush of doing homework, I could very well complete a few chapters of that, to the appreciation of my few readers. I could also learn lightsaber combat or exercise more. I might have the time. Maybe not. I do still need to get a Jedi costume done by October, though.

The force is fun

The fact of the matter is, this year may be the chance for me to better my life even further. I've bettered my sense of reality and awareness of the order of things, but not myself, not any of my life (if anything, my life was blown to shit for a bit there).

And hey, maybe I will get the girl, you never know. I probably won't. She hasn't given any sign she likes me back (hopefully it's because I'm blind as fuck). Also let's hope this definitely doesn't go according to the plot of Dr, Horrible, because her hair is also red like Penny's, and we know how she ended up (if you don't get the reference, watch the damn thing here).

I guess that's all I felt tonight. School's looming over me, my friends await, sadly due to the move I don't have my bus number or a close enough stop, but hey, I'll deal with that shit tomorrow, as always.

Screw January first, today marks a new year. I only hope I can live up to my resolutions.

School hasn't even started and I'm stressed out and depressed already. Jeez, life sucks at the moment.

Well, this certainly wasn't my best summer vacation so far. With school starting on Monday, I feel unfulfilled. I hardly wrote, I had to pack, move, and now am pushed hard to unpack my stuff before school starts in a couple days. I have shitty internet once again, so don't expect there to be any images on here. Don't worry, I'll improvise. My back hurts, I'm not gonna be able to get treatment for my eyes. Worst of all? I feel empty and depressed again. Yippee.

Let's go through this one subject at a time.

First off, the move. Before I begin, I'd like to thank my mother's boyfriend, Andy, for seriously helping out. My dad just grabbed his stuff out of there and left. I know my dad might read this, but I'm not afraid to say "really? You could've helped out a little", and it's true. With my dad's help, the move wouldn't have taken as long, it would've been a whole lot more efficient, and we'd have more time to unpack before school started. Now, my dad may have a reason for not helping out, and I acknowledge that, but he can't deny that's pretty selfish of him to not even lift a finger to help us. Now I'm completely disorganized with 4 days to go before school starts.

:Insert [Sherlock "that was tedious!"].gif

Secondly, school. Now, I wouldn't mind not having summer vacation and instead having a year long school year, because that's actually much easier. My mother's bitched about the fact that nobody on the public school system wants a school year without a summer because the idiots think that with no summer, there will be a lot more homework for the kids. What idiots.

:Insert ["Nigga, you just went full retard, never go full retard"].gif

Take the water from a small pot and put it in a larger pot. Now look me in the eyes and tell me there's more water in the large pot.
School was a bitch for me in my sophomore year, and I was completely overloaded. I'm told sophomore year is the hardest out of all the years at my school, and for my sake, I hope it's true. If Junior year turns out to be even more stressful than sophomore year, then I am truly screwed. The magnet high school I go to requires that you pass each year, otherwise you get put on probation, and if you don't get your shit together by next semester, then...

:Insert [George Carlin "Out ya fuckin' go!"].meme.png

What a lovely school I go to.

Next, my shitty body. I grew pretty damn tall pretty damn quick, so obviously I have back pain. Though I am anxious about school, I cannot wait to get there so I can use one of those school chairs as I chiropractor.
Even worse are my eyes, and I'll tell you why. So, basically I have this condition where gooey shit will build up behind my eyes (it's either called Perennial Rhinitis or Passive Conjunctivitis), and it will stay there until it bothers me to the point where I have to dig it out with my finger, which is both gross and terribly annoying. It's affected by numerous things: the amount of sleep I get, the amount of allergies in the air, etc. This is very helpful to my people skills, if I do say so sarcastically.
Now, the good news is I can get surgery to remove the stuff that causes this. However, you may have noticed that I mentioned 4 days left in summer until school arrives, which is not enough time for a goddamn eye surgery, unless I want to show up to school with shades and a cane. I didn't have the time because not only was I busy unpacking, but I'm lazy, so why would I even expect to get all of it done in the first place?

Lastly, the emptiness. The empty feeling in my heart that makes me feel as if I've had a hole shot straight through my chest. It's not quite familiar to me just yet, but it is known to me. I feel it begin to vanish, knowing my emptied feelings on this post have caused it to shrink. I'm calmer now, more clear than when I began. The emptiness arises by the combined factors of my sorrow, and I can only hope I find something, or someone, meaningful enough to me to help keep the sorrow away.

Why do I live? Why didn't I just kill myself? Because Fuck You, That's Why.

Dealing with a suicidal person can get you thinking sometimes. I tried to figure some on the spot way of consoling her, giving her something to fuel the fire of life within her and motivate her to dispel the possibility of suicide. However, I found nothing to tell her except my own story of how I survived.

During the spring semester, I got stressed out. The homework had kept me down so much that I felt like killing myself. I'd hit rock bottom, and I cried myself to sleep Friday night. A week or two more of this, and I would've followed through, no second thoughts, and I'd get it right the first time.

What saved me, however, was nothing more than Disc Golf.

Yes, Yes...this fucker saved my life

The next morning my mother, my sister, and I went on a disc golf campaign with my sister's teacher, who was pretty cool. After that we had pizza for lunch, and I took the rest of the day off. That was the tipping point of my depression.

Basically, when you're depressed, you don't see or think clearly. When depressed, you're locked into this air of pessimism that's hard to escape. You're trapped, and it's unlikely you can get out of it on your own, usually having to have help from another person. Fate was the one that aided me. With one morning of peace and tranquility amidst stress and confusion, I was allowed to have the fog of pessimism cleared, and it was then that I saw with clarity.

/r/ShittyTumblrGifs

I was at rock bottom then. I realized that not only did I have nowhere to go but up, I realized that I had nothing to lose. I didn't care anymore about what would happen if I made a fool out of myself, it didn't matter. I realized I could be who I wanted to be (that is, awesome) and if anyone disagreed, fuck them. I wanted to do what I wanted to do, and I did just that, just as I became who I wanted to be, and nobody could stop me.

Behold the magnificent Captain Yaple

God, I never get tired of that picture.

I'm Scared Of Growing Up, Should I Invest In Religion?

What a week this has been. Moving, Supernatural, issues with my internet friends, and then there's telling my IRL friend I'm too busy (both physically and emotionally) to participate in GISHWHES this year, which I'm sure she'll go crazy and flip out over, given she's normally very enthusiastic about everything and was kinda obsessive about getting me into it in the first place.

Maybe next year, Erin? I've got too much shit to deal with.

So moving has been laborious, and my mom is stressed out. My dad hasn't helped out at all with moving (all he wants is his own stuff) and our only assistance has come from my mother's new boyfriend, who's actually been putting a lot of time and effort into helping us get rid of all the shit my dad has bought over the years. Once again, my mother is stressed to fuck, and the move and my dad not caring has driven her to the edge, worse than during the school year, only then I knew I was the cause.

I was wanting to meet up with one of my internet friends and my mom shot down the idea when I asked her, obviously not trusting me to meet up with a complete stranger. On top of that, she possibly wouldn't be able to drive me. I understand she's stressed, but I know how to escape a possible child molester. We'd be meeting in a public area, and I can always just sit there and refuse to move (also I'm "action hero type" enough to fight the good fight). I honestly don't see why she would need to worry, although given she's a mother and she's stressed enough, I don't blame her.

When I bitched about it to my other internet friend, we then got into an argument about how I won't grow the fuck up and solve the problem myself (I didn't ask her for any assistance whatsoever). She bitched me out about how I, Captain Dirk AJ Yaple, needs to get up off my high horse and face life and grow the fuck up. This isn't an exact summary of the argument (kinda one-sided, really), but it comes pretty damn close. It was then that my mother called me away to move some boxes, where I reflected on the words of my friend, until I realized they were right.

Then comes the part where once again I realize I'm a horrible person, in a way at least. I need to fucking grow up, as friend #2 said. The problem is I'm afraid of doing so. I don't know adulthood, and I know it's somewhat different to childhood as I know it. I'm not ready to be an adult. I'm lazy, I'm an asshole, and I've already said enough about my narcissism in my previous blog post. It scares me, one of the first things to scare me in a long time.

This vast world, the world as humans have made it to be is horrible. So the older generation blames the younger generation? Look at the shitty world they left us with! We're doing a bit better than them only because we haven't been here as long. I know what it means to be an adult, but I don't know how I'd become one. I know how to keep a relationship intact, I just can't get into one (for obvious reasons).

This journey from being a teenager to being an adult is much harder than it was for my parents by far. Shit, 60 years ago you could afford college by being a fucking clerk! Now you have to be descended from someone who makes 6 figures just to pay off the damn student loans (if not, then prepare for crippling debt for a decade or two)! Back then you had diseases, but at least then natural selection took place and the people who didn't vaccinate their fucking kids died before they could convert others to their stupid fad.

As you can probably tell, the worst part of adulthood will be the dumb as shit bureaucracy that I will have to deal with, especially in America, the land of convenience!

I feel the emptiness in the pit of my stomach once more, combined with the shame that comes hand in hand with pissing off two of your friends when you know it's your fault the whole damn time. What a sucky evening. Thanks to me getting my feelings out on this damn post, I feel kinda better. Kinda.

If anything I've learned from writing this, I can tell that the one thing I will hate more than bureaucracies will be transition periods.

If my blog is about "things worth thinking (and complaining) about", why do I write so much about myself?

It's likely someone's thought this about this lovely blog of mine. If nobody has, then you're not doing enough thinking. Think, people, it's not illegal yet.

Now, if you've been following me for a decent amount of time, you'd know that one of the things I tend to write about is myself. My narcissism, frustration, desire, I've been writing about what I feel, what I think, how I feel, how I think, it's just about me (now, you could blame this on my narcissism, but bear with me here). First, however, we'd need to go into why I write.

We all have our way of venting, releasing, getting it out, whatever 'it' may be. Writing is my way of doing so. I get home, I overload myself with the primary emotion I felt that day, and I get it out with my fingers (well that just sounds wrong). I tap the keys, and I feel my emotions drain into the keyboard and into the post. The posts are memories, how I felt at certain times, and they are moments frozen in time, that I can look back at and remember, like photos.

Yes, it is possible that Gallifrey is frozen in one of my blog posts. 

I write about what I feel because it helps me let out my emotions. There are days when even the distraction of a cell phone doesn't help. I feel sad, or angry, and I have no idea why, and I need to let it out. I enjoy writing about other things: If the Serenity encountered the Destiny, if Loki was banished to earth to live as a human with Steve Rogers (sitcom style), and even if Pinkie Pie guided Dante through hell. I write about quite a lot, although none are as emotionally cleansing as my blog is. However, just the idea of saying something and getting it out there is uplifting for me.

Have you ever felt like you had something so important on your mind you just needed to say it? I feel that way, sometimes, and it's how George Carlin did his specials. (I do recommend watching the videos in this post)

Basically, Louis CK wrote a shit comedy routine when he first started out, then, inspired by George Carlin, he chucked it out onstage 15 years later and just said what he felt, and thus began his road to fame as a successful comedian. This in turn has inspired me to say and write what I feel, usually without regard for any possible consequences. When I mentioned in my previous blog post that Mikayla was my crush (I seriously doubt she likes me back, but I really want to at least tell her and get it out, just in case she's been given shitty romantic advice and is playing hard to get), my thinking was basically, "fuck it, why not?"

My honesty basically stems from how annoyed/exasperated I am, although I will attempt to be honest even when I'm feeling great. When I was writing that blog post about my narcissism, it was midnight, or close to midnight, I was pretty annoyed, mind you, and that's when I thought "fuck it", and I wrote her name in there, and it's pretty obvious she hasn't read it yet because I know her, and she doesn't like to bullshit people, which is something we have in common. If she found out that I had feelings for her, if she didn't like me back, no matter how close we could be, she'd still tell me that she didn't like me back, and I appreciate that in a person, not just a romantic partner. (One other thing is I'm kinda doubting how well of a boyfriend I could be to her, as being friendly and loving online is a lot easier than being friendly and loving in real life. Sure, I seem epic, and I kind of am, but real life me is a piece of shit)

It is now that I realize I might've gone too far off topic, then again, perhaps not.

I feel nothing about my parents' divorce. My dad divorced my mother, it's been found he was likely having an affair (FYI if my dad is reading this, no hard feelings), and now we're moving from the house I grew up in because my dad apparently has ceased to care about us. My sister's being battered pretty hard by these events, while I've just stood there as she came to me for comfort, and I've had to give more hugs than I've needed for myself. I haven't felt a single thing towards this. It's just something that's happening. Just because I've said this, I now feel better about it.

I have, however, felt this...emptiness that I feel. I'll be lying around, not doing anything, and I'll just feel sad, with no idea why. It's why I wrote this blog post, because I felt sad, and I needed to cleanse my emotions. Louis CK mentions this about cell phones, how electronics are our way of shutting out the sadness of life, despite the happiness that follows, just so we don't have to feel the preliminary sadness of it. I know this, and I do try to be on my phone less, but I don't just be online because of Reddit. I'm online because I have friends here, and I like to check in on how they're doing. Just because I've gotten this out, I now feel better about it.

I feel this way, and when I write about this, I feel like I have a heavy heart. I always feel it when I write about this, then once I submit the post, the weight dissipates, leaving me awake and aware. I then feel conscious, that I am free once more, my burden finally shed with the latest blog entry. I can now fly once again.

This is such a pain in my heart

I also feel about the comments of my blog posts. Whenever I post something, I always get praise (which I'm certainly not complaining about), but I want more than that. I opened this post telling you to think, and when you comment, I want to hear what You think. The internet isn't here so that I can preach to you what I think, I also want you to preach to me. What do you think? How does this make you feel? I felt a certain way about this, how do you feel about me feeling that way? I want you to lecture to me, just as I lecture to you. Got it? Good, now if you would please follow my blog so I can get a sense of how many people actually read it.

This shit that I write about myself and how I feel is much more than just something worth thinking about. I'm giving everyone who reads my posts insight into who I am, how I feel, and how I see everything around me. This isn't just something worth thinking or complaining about. This is something more than that.

This is the world in the eyes of a visionary.

Summer: A Time of Peace and Self-Reflection on My Ever-Increasing Narcissism

My first blog entry in a while, and it's in the middle of summer. Happy fourth of July, fuckers. 

Freedom, motherfuckers!

I'm feeling much better than I was at school. I know I went through my metamorphosis a month or two back, and I know I'm a changed man. I feel much happier, now that, despite going through a month of stress free school, I have nothing to occupy my head. I had stressfully and painstakingly kept my grades high enough the rest of the year that, when my productivity ceased, I merely coasted in just above the mark. I now continue to go to my high school. Yay me, especially considering sophomore year is the hardest at my school ("oh, you're completely stressed out with complicated homework? lol, have a menial art project!"). 

Now nothing occupies my head. All I do is relax, relaxation that is well earned, in my opinion. I'm doing so much yet so little. I feel great. The only problems I do face is the stress of moving. (come on! I was planning on getting shit done this summer!) As a result of my parents' divorce, my mother has to move house to sustain us, given we can no longer afford the huge awesome house we have now. I'm perfectly fine with it, but I had plans, and moving's gonna set them back. 

I feel nothing concerning the divorce, but I do feel something. See, I don't normally feel. 10th Doctor regenerating? I listen to the music to help me sleep. [SPOILER] dying at the end of Allegiant? Didn't shed a single tear. Ponds getting sent back in time? I smiled. The Fault in Our Stars? Better love story than twilight.

Bottom line is, I don't normally feel shit. Others at least feel sad. I don't. (yes, I know, I'm inhuman) and yet, I feel something. Unrelated to my school stress, unrelated to my familial situation. I don't know what it is. I'll just be watching a YouTube series, it'll end, and I'll be left alone with my thoughts for 20 minutes, and that's when I start to feel sad. I don't know why, I just randomly become depressed.

Scratch that, I think I may know why. Fuck, I may just know for certain why. Because I'm reflecting upon myself. I see myself because when I'm at home and I have nothing to occupy my mind with, I have nothing to distract me with but myself. I'm self absorbed, and pretty much everyone knows this who bothers to get to know me. I view myself as so awesome you should have permission to even touch me (not permission to look at me, that'd be a crime against humanity to restrict that). I'm vain, and pompous, and I view myself as better than everyone I know, even everyone within 100 miles of me (I'm in Texas, I'm better than at least 75% of those people). I am utterly amazing, and there is no possible reason why my crush shouldn't already adore me; Mikayla should feel privileged that I've taken a liking to her (yes, I finally said her name). All of my friends should feel privileged to be liked by a person as epic as me.

I mean, come on, don't I look like a supremely epic badass?

Oh fuck I am definitely pushing it.

My point is that, like my father (don't get me wrong, he's a great guy), I'm a narcissist. The difference between me and my father is that he wants everything to go his way, I mean, we all do, but he's kinda hissy about it (again, no offense, dad! you're pretty great!), he's not really adaptable if things don't go his way. While I know that not everything's going to go my way and I should be considerate to others, I carry the same flaw, if not worsened. My father's vanity is inconsideration, while mine is self-infatuation. My father cares mainly for himself out of selfishness, while I view myself as superior based on just plain self-absorption. 

Now to throw a ring into a fiery mountain. Actually, no, that's below me.

People view themselves to be 5 times less ugly than they are? bullshit, I view myself as 15 times that. As a result of my pompousness, my modesty has also adapted to compensate. I claim myself to be the most amazing being on earth, and then I'll self-deprecate by following up with "Jk, I'm a piece of shit" (and that's how I react to my vanity on a good day), and I am. I'm a piece of shit. I know that not everyone is supposed to be utterly perfect, save myself, but should I really be as vain as I am?

I still hate that fact of my modesty as well. I know in my heart that it's true, but somehow I unconsciously began to exploit that knowledge. I began to use my modesty as a sympathy plea. I'll admit I'm stupid when I've bragged of myself and who I am, and when people hear that, they take pity on me and accept me more. Great job utilitarian me, now I feel horrible.

I make an effort to not be vain, to know that even though I am better than those around me, I am also equal. My love for myself still shines through and I seem pretentious (as my crush called my journal entries), mainly because I am pretentious. I fear it overcoming me. It is the monster inside of me, it is my sin: pride (even though I am a fan of all seven). Hubris remains my fatal flaw. I'm badass. I'm awesome. I'm shit. I know I'm shit, yet I view myself as awesome. That's why I'm sad, because I know that I am worse because I seem better in my own eyes.

This is Captain Dirk AJ Yaple of Serenity, and I'm feeling 10 feet tall.

Okay, here's a disclaimer for you, since I obviously need to put one here for certain reasons.

1. I told my doctor about my suicidal thoughts during my regeneration two months back and how I got over them. Instead of congratulating me he was concerned, and I understand why, but let me make this abundantly clear: I will never commit suicide. I'll feel like it at times, but I never will do it. Ever. I've got too much. Too much to do, too much to see, too many books and movies to watch and read. I don't deny that I'll want to. Whenever I'm stressed out, it'll always appeal itself to me, but I'll never appeal to it. I will never kill myself. Even if I do, I'll do it in some epic way. Fuck hanging or cutting, I'm gonna pull an Evil Kinevil stunt that ends in my certain death. I will not go out quietly. Capiche? good.

2. Dad, I hate to admit it, but yes, you are narcissistic. You are inconsiderate. The fact is that you apologize and deflect blame sometimes, but you never really admit your faults like I do. I'm an open book with them, I have nothing to hide. I will gladly go up to some random person on the street and tell them everything that's wrong with me right at the start. Right then and there. I don't want to seem critical, but I don't like to hide shit. Accept responsibility for once, as I learned to do early on. By acknowledging you're broken, you end up fixing yourself, if only slightly. Please take this into consideration, dad, I know you can.

3. Oh gods Mikayla will have words for me. (this isn't a disclaimer)

4. Happy fourth of July, fuckers 

Journal Reflection: No More Fucks to Give

I just realized I never actually reflected on the journal entries I did, even though I'm going to be required to do so for my English final (all I can say is screw the 600 word limit). I still need to go over what my writing strengths and weaknesses were, my improvements, probable and current. I've decided to do it here because I think this is the best place/format for it, not simply on Google docs where it would metaphorically gather dust forever.

My ten journal entries are far more than what I expected them to be. I expected to just write an entry every day and bullshit the whole thing, simple, right? Well, I went above and beyond even what I expected from myself. I didn't write just a handful of journal entries, I didn't just write a bunch of things I had to write for an assignment. I really let myself go with this menial project. I truly upheld the first rule of writing, by William Forrester (Sean Connery). "The first key to writing is to write, not to think. You write your first draft with your heart, and you rewrite with your head." That I did, Mr. Forrester, That I did. Each time I wrote, I imagined the primary emotion of the whole day building up inside me to the point where I had no choice but to let it out, and I did so via the keyboard below my fingertips.

Each one of my journal entries is it's own chapter in a story I write about the two weeks of my own personal metamorphosis, my discovery of my own personal identity. I would've found it eventually, but this assignment really did speed up the process. When I started this assignment, I was stressed as fuck. My depression was hitting me head on, and I found no way to escape. By the middle of the whole thing, I felt ready to kill myself, I felt ready to die. Finally, at the peak of all that, it was as if my body would shut down, each individual cell simultaneously, and in a way, yes, I died.

My final blog post detailed my emergence as a new man. The post about my love life sucking was in the aftermath of my death. The old me died when I ceased to care about school. Stress suddenly found itself unable to afflict me. I was untouched by my paranoia, which without the ability to feed off my stress, slowly decayed. I felt refreshed, I felt anew, I feel confident now. My productivity has almost hit rock bottom, but my self-esteem has skyrocketed. I wrote about my shitty love life because that was the only thing, the only thing, that ever serves to stress me out. I no longer care for the schoolwork, it can't make me nervous, but my crush can, even when I but see her from an entire hallway away. I didn't know then that my love life was the only sorrow I could write about, as the others I was freed from the burden of.

My technique for writing, the one thing I have done to augment the quality of these posts, was not to think, but to feel. I've always bashed emotion, saying it's merely a distraction, but it's so much more. Emotion is my tool, how I write, I don't revise any of these. Everything you see here, if I don't disagree with it in the mere ten seconds I spend on it, it stays. Everything here is what I feel. Ironically, my greatest strength in writing can also serve as my greatest weakness. As I said, emotions are a distraction. Think of the new BBC Sherlock TV show. They were great in the beginning, Moffat really pulled through, but not anymore. My mom described the new series as "good, but they're kinda drunk on their own fame"

I carry the same flaw. My weakness is when I write to outdo myself. Whenever I write, I have to remember to write. I can't think, I can't try and be better than everything I've done, I have to do what I can, and just that. My sin is pride, but hey, I'm actually a fan of all seven.

My current state, my new regeneration, was an accelerated result of the fires I was subjected to. I have become in one year what I would've become in several. I am carefree, unburdened. Whatever I do in school I'm never forced to do, everything I do is of my own accord. If I want to do it, I'll do it. If not, then I won't. The days of my life, in the most stressful time of this year, have been so uplifting, I have discovered inner peace, my own inner peace, and nobody can take me down. Even if my crush were to actively reject me, I would still walk away empowered, knowing that despite my failure, I at least took the initiative and conquered what I've always feared, what I've never been able to cease caring about (speaking of, I'm debating whether to utilize my new-found confidence to say her name right now, as I do know she reads these, and let her put two and two together. What the hell, it's hidden).

I do remember that night, that night of the blog post where I'd gone to bed having enough. I didn't want to live, I wanted to die, despite my own personal disfavor towards ending my own life. I could only sleep. I woke the next morning, not wanting to check my phone for the daily scoop on the front page of Reddit, not wanting to get up, not wanting to even listen to music. All I wanted to do was lie there and stay there. I stayed there, all right, and I realized how much I didn't care. I was in the present, and I wouldn't take any more shit from anyone. I now exist having run out of fucks to give. At any moment I could fly. I live in the present now, I am truly free.



Word count (because it's somehow required): 1026, because as I said, screw the limit