Wednesday, December 24, 2014

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 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.

Monday, December 1, 2014

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.