I'm Curious How Many People Actually Listen To The Music I Put In These

Oh jeez, is it the end of the year already? Hell yeah! For the last week or two I've groaned about the fact that school still had three weeks left, so close and yet so far. I also haven't been groaning about anything on here, so I should probably write one of my awesome blog posts to boost the view count on my website, maybe then I'll be able to put ads on my blog to get some cash out of it. Of course, I wouldn't abandon you guys to the mercy of these ads entirely...

Ad does not contain a lapdance *ding*

Cinemasins is better than most YouTube channels in this regard, and definitely serves as a role model for how to manage a blog, but I digress. Have some music.

So my life is fairly easy at the moment, as one might expect when it comes to the end of school. Naturally they try to squeeze a couple projects in before finals week, like Epic Rap Battles of US History and college portfolios in English. I sarcastically spoke up in my English class, wondering out loud what about English we were gonna learn from this project, and my teacher simply gave me a look of "I know, I know...". As a student not going to college who's currently going to a college prep school, the fuss about college is insane. I mentioned in my portfolio on the question about my college plans and/or possible majors that you could whisper something about college in a crowded hallway here and everyone around will go insane about it. "what college are you going to?" "what's your major gonna be?" "you got a scholarship??" blah blah blah...it's crazy. The fact that I compared these people to the seagulls in Finding Nemo wouldn't go unmentioned, since it's a scarily accurate comparison.

College?

My Latin teacher's actually said multiple times, "if you're not planning on going to college, why are you here?" in regards to the fact that my school's for college prep. I can't help but agree with his statement partially, but I have to retort by bringing up the fact that maybe I didn't want to go to high school with a bunch of idiots I already know are idiots from middle school. LASA's better than all the rest of the schools in the district because the students actually want to be there, and all the kids who skate through school are just filed away to other schools because they don't want to really make an effort to change their situation (because there's gonna be someone saying "oh, I'm not like that!" or "[people I know] aren't like that!", chill out. There are always exceptions).

I actually consider myself a grey Jedi, using both the light and the dark side, controlling my emotions perfectly. I can totally see myself with a curved purple lightsaber in the Star Wars Universe.

I kinda feel like I'm on "Between Two Ferns" with the kind of hate I'm venting for AISD. It's not necessarily hate, just stuff that I've always thought and never really got the chance to say. Now, this next part is hate, for those with sensitive hearts: AISD's transport system is someday going to kill someone. Yesterday we had a substitute driver who naturally took a 15-20 minute delay in getting on the route. I can barely survive the heat when it comes to the normal day, when I get home at 4:50. Given it was a Thursday, my dad also picks up my sister and I for visitation...at 5:00. With the massive delay by the sub, I had to walk from my bus stop to my house (no sidewalks, by the way) hot as hell and exhausted, with my dad already in the driveway waiting for me. I've tried telling him to shift the visitation time from 5-7 to 5:30-7:30, but for some reason he's not into the idea (I've mentioned how one thing I dislike are sticklers, who absolutely need to follow the rules to the letter. When it comes to dropping us off at home, we absolutely need to be there by 7, unless my mom's going to get pissed off to her limit...wait...oh, sorry. I forgot my mom was a pretty reasonable person, last I checked.

Anyway, back to the shitty bus system, those things are greenhouses on wheels. It's my firm belief that the AISD transportation administration have never ridden a school bus, in Texas, during the warm parts of the year, and especially not in their business attire. I've been tempted to get heat stroke on one of those buses so there'd actually be a legitimate reason to sue these assholes. I mean, it's AISD, we don't even need much of a case, we just need to say we have a lawyer and they'll do whatever we ask, right? Someone greater than I once said, "I like winter because there's only so many layers you can put on before you run out of layers. In summer there's only so many layers you can take off before it becomes illegal". The buses barely have air conditioning, only having three fans up front (only one of which actually works) to keep the driver from passing out and killing everybody while driving. I'll end this rant by saying I had to change underwear before going with my dad, because it was completely soaked through after an hour on that godforsaken bus. End rant.

Back to normal everyday life, I'm actually going to miss this year. Apart from my lack of motivation for certain subjects, I still feel like this was a great year. Not new, not being annihilated by stress, not leaving, just being here. At a school like LASA, the culture is definitely a great factor. The former assistant principal once told us a story about how he once overheard a vehement argument in the halls over the answer to a physics equation. I go to a school full of nerds, and I hear that every once in a while, when I go near the math department. One of the reasons I'm reluctant to go to college is because no matter how nerdy the college is, it's not going to be LASA. This high school of mine is where I feel like I belong, the people here accept anyone regardless of who they are (Except if you're gay, then you'll have tons of friends on the first day). I hate having to think of the fact that I'm leaving this random utopia, these last three years full of wasted opportunities, and I never really want to leave.

Except for three months, of course. God, summer's been well-anticipated here. The projects and assignments still dulling everyone down to a lazy state. I'm still gonna have to take some class over the summer (I have to email my counselor to get info), either health or speech, in order to fulfill some credit requirement. Apparently you can take all the electives you want, but you still need to do the required stuff, during the year or the summer. On top of that, I still need to do PE for next year, and it's going to be hard for the reason that I can't just take two semesters of the PE class for the credit (again, I have to email my counselor) so I have to end up playing golf. My mother asked what the alternative was, to which I replied I would have to play a sport of some kind. Can't I just be a lazy ass like I have been these last three years?

So, last day of the last official week of school, then a finals week of four half days, which means I'll have to frantically get yearbook signatures in certain classes. My friend Cole/Hollie, naturally, wanted to draw a huge penis in mine, which is why I'm getting a lot more signatures before them so that the penis, at the very least, won't be large enough to make a too awkward moment between my mother and I when she looks over my signatures. I don't even know why I bought a yearbook apart from that reason. Fact is, it's memorabilia, a piece of my childhood. My middle school years, my high school years, all preserved within those books. My friends all sign it, giving me an idea of how socially successful I was that year. After middle school, they progress from mere signatures to heartfelt messages and the 'kiss of death', as Whedon deems it, the sole phrase "have a great summer".

This year I've actually made an effort to not say that godforsaken phrase, trying to instead say nice things, things mutual between the two of us, things about the other person. My go-to phrase for when I'm signing a yearbook of someone I don't know at all is "I've seen you around, you seem cool. We should be friends", thus resigning them to automatically become my friend by apathetic convention. Friendship doesn't have to be something that's complex, actually quite simple. Just by calling a person your friend to their face (or to their yearbook, but that merely delays it by seconds), you can quite easily make them your friend. Friendship is easy, depending on the right people.

To say this was a philosophical blog post isn't entirely a truth. I did go in-depth with my thoughts, more than most would, but mainly this was a post for the purpose of venting. These last few weeks have been quite stressful, and I've finally gotten around to writing a blog post to decompress from it. We all need to relieve our stress, one way or another. Some people do it by beating the everloving fuck out of a copy machine, others do it by conquering all of Asia. You can probably guess I'm somewhere in between, good luck figuring out exactly where.

One more weekend, then a week of stressless lack of obligation (after all, AP's are over, so finals week will be easy). After that, I'm home free. Summer's coming, guys. If it hasn't reached you yet, it will soon enough. You will be free.

Alright, I'm done. It's the end of class anyway.

Dear Sister: You Are The Light Of My Life, So Shine

Another year, another anniversary of the day the annoying littler version of me I know as Rebecca came into the world. Another day, another period in Robotics where I write instead of working. Thank god for subs.

My mom gave me a birthday card to write in for my sister's birthday dinner tonight, and due to the fact that she gave it to me yesterday (or possibly Sunday evening) I felt too lazy to fill it out. Finally when she reminded me last night to fill out the card, I told her I'd fill it out at school and then stuffed the card into my binder (carefully). Sometimes brushing off something for a later time, a time when you're more prepared and admittedly more procrastinatory on your AVP assignment, can allow it to be better than if you forced yourself to write it immediately. There are times when the more work you put into something, the lesser quality it comes out to be.

Now, due to the risk of my sister seeing this post before I give her the card tonight, I won't be posting this until afterwards, or at least right before we leave. She'll come back from her birthday dinner, read it in her room, then run out and hug me. She loves me, and I love her, and no matter how many times we ramp up the snarky comments we shoot between each other to our mother's dismay and then end the night in mutual hatred, that will always be the case.

In my card for her, I wrote about how proud of her I was. I won't give the exact dialogue as to what the card said, since that'll be exclusively hers. This is merely a follow-up, since I ran out of room on the card. To summarize, I told her how happy I was for her, that she's 12 now, and that even though middle school sucks (ah, totalitarianism), and that that part of her life would be over before she knew it. The bad parts of her life would only be temporary, and eventually the storm would end, unless of course she lives on Kamino, in which case it will never end.

Does the rain ever end on Kamino? Good thing we don't live there

I actually wanted to write so much more, and I wrote her a P.S. about a possible better way to live, but even then I barely had room, so I'll write to her exactly how I feel on this very blog post. It's not going to be shared with everyone, and the only one to be notified about it will be her. If you want to read it, fine, but this is personal, the kind of post where I don't tell anyone about it and let the people who really care read it for themselves. I know a significant few will see it and read it and they'll think it's a sweet thing for a brother to do, but I don't care about their appraisal of me. This post isn't about me, it's about my sister, but not without some epic music that compliments her.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, writing to my dear sister what I couldn't on the card, so here we go.


Rebecca, you honestly render me speechless sometimes, leading me to practice the dungeon master art of bullshitting your way through an encounter. When it comes to how you describe your problems in school and problems in life, you're talking to someone who knows what you're going through, and I can tell you that this is not going to be the high point in your life. Life is going to have it's ups and downs, and you're gonna be thrown all around by the giant waves that plague us all. Sometimes the advice of your family helps, sometimes it doesn't, but the point is you gotta take a risk and take said advice to heart. It may work for us and not for you, but only you can figure that out. Also, you don't know this for obvious reasons, but my advice especially comes in handy when it comes to TV shows you should watch. There's meaning and pain and happiness and love and art and death and things you may very well enjoy. The whole purpose of the TV shows I try to pass onto you are because of the meaning behind them, the meaning that other shows (*cough cough* disney) typically lack.

These shows are the four I highly suggest you watch, and you need to do more than just watch them. You have to imagine yourself as certain characters, imagine yourself in certain situations within the show. Normal people just watch TV shows for the sake of watching them, and don't take them in and absorb them and truly love them for the message they try to put across. Buffy TVS is meant to convey the message of growing up, and that's one of these that I really really think you should watch, since you're growing up as well. The normal people ignore the real messages behind shows, as I said, and only watch them for the sake of watching. Don't be normal, Rebecca, and don't watch them because I obligate you to. When I showed you Agents Of SHIELD, I implored you to watch the first 10 minutes, and the moment the 10 minutes were up, you went right back to your laptop. Actually watch them, watch the first season of all of them (especially Firefly) and really watch them and become one with them. That is how a TV show is meant to be consumed. Even if these aren't the shows you watch, make sure the shows you do watch are taken in like that.

TV shows aside, you still are amazing. The fact that you can suffer through sixth grade (my internal monologue has once again shifted to a Tim Minchin voice) and gain more friends in half a year than I did in two is a painful reminder of the knowledge that you're growing up. I know the pain of the divorce has aged us all emotionally, but the knowledge of you going to middle school only solidifies it: you're no longer the adorable child I knew as my little (size-wise) sister. You're far from being an adult, good on you, but that won't always be the case. Eventually you're going to wake up and it's your first day of high school, and then you're going to wake up once more and it'll be college, and then again and you'll be a grown woman, no longer the child I once had as my loved little (again, size-wise) sister. That's only the case for a short while longer, and you'll end up hating it as much as I will. Growing up is a horrible thing, Rebecca, absolutely horrible, because once you make your choice to grow up, emotionally and mentally, it's gone, all that innocence you once had, all the happy childhood that's now pointless.

You haven't read The Outsiders yet. As I recall, that's a 7th grade thing. It talks a lot about innocence and staying gold and all that, I recommend you read that over the summer, if I can have mom get it for your birthday. Apart from TV, works of literature like The Stranger, Catcher In The Rye, you should read them too. If you're going to grow up, Rebecca, I want you to grow up in a display of elegance. I want you to blossom like the flower you're going to be into a magnificent display of wonder. I've become something amazing with the stripping-away of my innocence, my growing up, so I want you to do something for me, something to grow up as slow as possible: be where you are, right now.

The slowest way to live, the easiest way to ignore your dread of the past or your anxieties of the future is to be here now. Concentrate on where you are, when you are. Concentrate on the coolness of the air, the brightness of the light, the feeling of your clothes against your skin. Live each moment, Rebecca, feeling everything there is to feel. The pain you're inevitably going to feel is going to be beautiful, and you're going to want to get in and feel it. Pain is beautiful, it's romantic, you're lucky to be alive, you're lucky to feel that pain. The pain and the anxiety makes you feel so so bad but you can't let that pain convince you to stop feeling every moment. There's the painful moments, and then there's the happy moments, the happy moments without pain, and those happy moments are why we live, the happy moments that are only made better by the presence of pain at other times. Even our current situation, no matter how painful, makes it so much better every other weekend when it's not present. The pain that seems to be rampant is only a temporary thing, no matter how much it seems permanent.

There's so much I want to say, Rebecca, so much I want to tell you, so much in life I want to prepare you for, that I can't just tell you in an insanely long blog post. Unfortunately, I lack the space and we both lack the time, as if I were to tell you everything you needed to really become an amazing adult, you'd already be one. I have faith, however, that my help will only be needed to a minor degree, that you have it all in hand. That's not always the case, I think you do need a nudge in the right direction occasionally, as do we all. Sometimes you can't just handle it yourself at all, sometimes you need help through and through, but sometimes you just need a push, sometimes you need that nudge in the right direction . I think once you let someone grab you by the shoulders and turn you the right way, you can make your way from there.

Be special, Rebecca, be fantastic, be you, despite what box others may try and fit you in. You're the best sister ever, and I love you to the ends of the earth. It doesn't matter how our current situation might be, you have me, and I have you, and that'll always be the case.

Happy birthday, Rebecca, and if you learn nothing else from this post, be here now, and be you now.

I Love Myself A Teenage Romance Novel That Isn't Shit

Finally, time. Time to compose a masterpiece about my emotions, time to release stress, time to cry over TFIOS, which was just painful to read at the end. The pain lives on, and so must we live.

Recently I've been alright. I haven't really given any information, even in my last blog post, about my current state of affairs. My dad has been quiet as of late, in regard to his ripples, all that really happened on his front was his exposure of me to the pleasurable company of my aunt and her husband at Cheddars. Through all the conversation on their front, I got the impression that military college was apparently a good idea.  Of course, that's not to say that helped me overcome my being completely burnt out from school. It didn't. Here I am, not alone in my english classroom when it comes to desiring to do absolutely nothing. We'd rather just watch X-men, and I hate it because it's distracting me from the emotion within me. Gee, politics in this universe is almost too realistic, thus I digress (but seriously, how is this woman not thinking of comparing this asshole senator to Hitler and winning the debate due to holocaust guilt?)

I'm burned out, and I'm doing absolutely nothing, not in physics, not in latin, not in APUSH. I absolutely hate this distraction, and so I'll force myself to tune out X-men for an hour so I can focus on this. It's hard to keep focused sometimes when it comes to one's emotions, sometimes everyday life catches us in the current and we lose sight of the river at hand. Sometimes we're too busy swimming to survive we forget to swim for the hell of it.

Today I finished the book we all know as The Fault In Our Stars, and I loved it. John Green's expression of the pain of dying from cancer is so exquisite, such the writing I wish to one day create on my own. Fortunately for Mr. Green, he'll probably keep hold on his bragging rights of having the greatest romance novel ever for many years to come, if not many years longer than my own pitiful life.

Okay, I've mainly inserted this so that this blog post will have a good thumbnail. It's only partially relevant

As I read the euphony of words that comprised TFIOS, I couldn't help but imagine what my life would be like were I currently dying (fuck this movie). John Green perfectly presents the perspectives of a cancer-stricken person, between the hopeless dreary personality of Hazel and the sacrificial life-loving nature of Augustus Waters. He proved to be my favorite character, the kind of guy I'd enjoy having as a best friend, the kind of guy I'd enjoy being. I'm practically an Augustus Waters, aside from my lack of social skills and my stunning charisma. It's more the way I regard the world, and not how I make the world regard me. We share the same character flaw of dying for something, the same Hoban Washburne-esque way of joking in the face of all sorts of sad moments. I'm more of a cross between Augustus and Hazel, but then again, so would we all be, in several small ways, just like everyone being a cross between Sherlock and Watson to varying degrees.

Such pain John Green presents to us all, in the form of one of the greatest books I've ever read, and such majesty within said pain. I've always tried my hardest to envision the pleasure within pain, as well as the memory pleasure can bring to us when it's long gone. Pain's what makes the pleasure stronger. Live a life in hell and the very concept of this crappy earth we live in would seem like heaven. A lot of people live in a life where they do simply swim to survive, not finding the ability to swim for any other reason. A lot of people live lives where they've never been able to swim for any other reason than to survive. It's not their fault, it's never their fault, and they tend to blame themselves because the current's always been that way. What other explanation could there be?

I can relate to their feeling of powerlessness, unable to make any headway against this current that's trying to drown them. It's what causes me to fantasize about having powers like in the fantasy genre, superhero movies, etc. It's why a person like me enjoys roleplaying, as I can exchange my world for one where I can stand on equal footing with those who oppress me in everyday life. A time jump here, a ball of fire there, anything that pushes me out from the underdog position and allows me to fight on equal ground. It's what we all desire, and sometimes a book about cancer might very well be enough to give one the courage to make it that way themselves, but sometimes they can't. Sometimes you're brutally kept down against all hope, and there's no book about cancer-stricken teens that can help you. Sometimes it's a result of deeds, not words, that help you overcome those things that hold you down.

(As I switch classes, I'll try to swing this post in a more positive direction when I resume it during lunch. At least then I won't be distracted by the goddamn movie currently playing.)

So where was I? Oh yes. The pain in the latter half of TFIOS was chilling to me, and I didn't care that my English teacher told us some stuff about tomorrow's AP exam during the first five minutes of class, I already knew it and I had a story to finish. That pain in that book killed me to the point where I just had to write about it. At first I thought, "eh, I'll write something after school", but that quickly changed. I could not wait to get my feelings out, to write how John Green's masterpiece had made me feel.

In the end, Hazel has to live, regardless of her condition, regardless of all the people she's lost (I'm trying to not explicitly spoil the book, but you could probably figure it out if you really aren't ever going to read it). The same is true for anyone else, actually, with our own deaths right around the corner for all we know. We could die at any moment, which is why we can't waste our lives just surviving, as Hazel's parents seem to do. So many people simply trudge through life without any thought of where they are, concentrating too much on where they're going or where they've been. People at my high school seem to concentrate so much on whichever college they might be going to...and that's just the freshmen. There are others, very good actors, as they're never noticed, others who concentrate too much on their pasts, on mistakes they made a decade prior. That's anxiety for you, and it's not easily controlled as I can certainly attest.

...Dear god they all just came to mind when I wrote that

So what is there to do? Experience your life, admire your surroundings, find yourself and become yourself. The amount of possible places your life could go is infinite. There are so many places you could go, so many things you could do, so why waste it? (I'll point out, for the sake of my home life, that binge-watching a TV show or playing a video game aren't necessarily wasteful, so long as one watches a TV show actively and intelligently and so long as that game is something like Minecraft). I still have things I need to do, which is why I will never kill myself, despite how often I might feel the urge to do so. I can't kill myself, I still need to choreograph and film a lightsaber duel with Jennifer Lawrence! (It's important to note that after I've done this, I can't kill myself! I'm the guy who choreographed and filmed a lightsaber duel with Jennifer Lawrence!)

That's all for today, my followers (nobody actually follows my blog. Weird). Live on, and live now.