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.