panda

Behold, I have more ruminations about my life, in a clear, easy to read form, if anyone happens to be interested. I am surprised I have the time for this. I really shouldn't; I have a lit log due on Friday, but I am choosing not to start until tomorrow. My application to Cornell is now entirely in the hands of others, and like many things I am unsure about whether I prefer it that way.

I am embarrassed to say this, but I would like to take note, before the feeling goes away, that I am at this time generally happy. And I believe that I should feel this way. I have the best friends a man could ask for, and when I think about who I am now, I can't say I'm displeased. There is nothing particularly wrong in my life other than the wound on my elbow and the bruise on my lower back. As Jet Black would tell me, it was probably a result of my running too far ahead of the game. Luckily I came away with my left arm only wounded.

It is a strange time for me, and I have taken up prayer again. Something about the past few weeks or so has pushed me back towards my faith, and I believe that it is a change for the better. Recently I've felt like a kid before Christmas, wanting to do as much good as possible as quickly as possible. I probably haven't done much at all, but that is the sentiment that has been in my mind as of late.

That concludes your peek into my life. You must now find some other distraction until someone else posts.

speak of the devil

a total ramble. at freaking four am.

everything's been related either directly or indirectly to stress; flu season has taken its toll and that's a direct outcome of anxiety and worrying. of course, lack of sleep is not too beneficial either, so i can't say its all school and people...although that's my reasoning behind the odd logic said above...that doesn't make sense.

school's not that bad. or maybe that's just because my bar has gone down from freshman year. whatever it is, it's bothering me that i'm relaxed, too relaxed, with everything, in comparison to two years prior. or even last year. i now lack direct incentive and productivity. a day almost feels wasted if i did not accomplish something academically or musically productive. back to the morals instilled in me in third grade.

social complications. won't go there. they exist and multiply like bacteria on roadkill in london.

i need to re-instill in myself the value of a dollar. i used to be so good at this game; giving everything i earned from lessons straight to my father, who would put it in the bank. and i'd get so happy, knowing i was getting closer and closer to the violin i'd been longing to get for years. but now, instead of limiting myself on 10 dollars a week, i would spend money on totally useless things. i didn't need them, i just wanted them. and that sort of freedom has got to stop, before the parents find out. and the chains are tightened.

i was so much more strong-willed back then. the old days. naïveté never looked so desirable.

It Ain't Over 'til It's Over

Damn. Staying home is boring. I don't know how the other kids put up with this. I have absolutely nothing to do. I'm home because my eye is all swollen and weird looking. Or, at least it was this morning, but it looks pretty okay now. I wonder how that happened. I hope my weekend isn't like this; hopefully waking up a lot later tomorrow will pass the time. Wait, didn't I write a blog about doing this exact thing a few weeks ago? Is that what I'm doing? Writing about my paint drying? I never realized. I think I understand the plight of those with no lives. Because I've deceived you all (I hope). I, Myles Ma, have no life. At least for today. Is it too obvious that I am writing this only to pass the time? What do I care, anyway? I am writing this only to pass the time. This is much easier in school, where I at least feel that I am making progress with every bell. I only have to wish my life away in one hour increments. Here at home it takes much more endurance. There is no bell to reward my patience. I'm getting hungry. I would have had lunch by this time. I think Vin wanted me to buy him lunch today. And Menachem was expecting me at the library. I wonder if these people notice that I am gone. I suppose they have to. I don't know if that raises my self-esteem or not. I wonder if I've written enough. I already have the scrollbar on the side. Once I have that I usually stop, but I'm still pretty bored. Fuck it.

Mourning

Alarm at 6:40 AM: I rolled over and awoke to stare out my window, greeted by a thousand still and silent, vacant and empty faces and hands pressed against every window in my house. The sun has not yet come up on today, and now the winter waits, not far now.

Thank You

There is no point in reading this because there is nothing I have to say that will interest or amuse anyone.

WHY!!!

"If this myth is tragic, that is because its hero is conscious." ~ Albert Camus

hour hand

individuals are fully capable of earning distinguished awards, of doing good deeds that they believe themselves capable of, or genius of, whichever; pat yourself on the back, you helped that old lady cross the street, you are a good samaritan!

but it's pathetic, that this is high school, pathway to college, pathway to adulthood, that we as individuals are still ignorant of our influence over a random passerby.

a snicker never hurt, especially when the receiving end has his head buried in a book; and seems totally unaware of your presence. he sees the blurry shape of the words. a giggle never killed, she's too busy on the phone, smiling and laughing away. the depressed mother needs her daily cheer-up. point and laugh, the boy with shoes 3-sizes-too-big has his sneakers slapping the ground with every step, but he's trying to be funny; he's aware and smiling. the clearance section finally had Nikes. a smile and chuckle with your friend would pass unnoticed; the girl with the kmart tag on her shirt has got her headphones on. the batteries died years ago.




with every second ticking by, hour hand still moves, if you watch ever so closely.

Genital Hairstyling

Just wanted to use the title. That's all.

Magneto has AIDS

So I just wrote four pages for sociology. Yea, and Weaver doesn't even teach it anymore, he needs a new knee.

Gentlemen: We can rebuild him. [cut to fast-forward animation of Weaver running] Better than he was before. [pan down to Weaver in a dentist chair, eyes closed, in a perfectly white room]
Better. [as pan completes]
Stronger. [Weaver begins breathing]
Faster. [As the music swells, Weaver eerily opens his eyes]

So now Mr. Natielo, of sixth grade fame, is teaching it. Dude, this is great.
And ebay owes me some swords, dammit. Justice must be served...!

no rain

For some reason, as of late, I've been catching myself in good moods. And pointing it out just makes me happier. There is very little that has changed in two weeks. I am amazed at people who blog every day. I wish that I knew more people whose lives were filled every day with events worth sharing with the whole world, or that my own life could be filled with but a fraction of the adventure and excitement these daily bloggers must live in.

October 4, 2004
I painted my wall today. It's drying at a constant rate, as determined both by the amount of paint I put on the wall, and the chemical properties of the paint itself. The paint is white, and combined with the ample lighting I have provided for this particular room, my bedroom, it is especially bright, much brighter than, for example, my closet. I am hoping that the fumes produced as a result of the wet paint that I recently applied to my walls will not be intolerably strong. In that scenario, I would be forced to spend the night on my couch, which, due to its location in a room separate from the bedroom where I applied the paint, would be free from any unpleasant odors created by the aforementioned paint. I must go now because the urine that has accumulated in my bladder is in need of release via my somewhat narrow urethra, but I will make every attempt to be back on as soon as I have taken care of that need by disposing of the urine in my toilet. Wait, wait never mind.

I can barely contain my envy.

revenge crucial

my little sister is such a dear. i reopen a box of kellog's after a much-needed nap in a groggy state, and tilt the box. out which pops a 5-inch praying mantis. into my bowl of milk.


Kellogs: A Great Way to Start Your Day!
Part of this Complete Breakfast.

Inappropriate 101

::narrated by a friendly old man::
Back in 2003, one young man set out with the idea of getting a small workshop of people together, with just two simple things in mind. Charles Ackerman wanted to make people feel bad about their lonely xangas, and avert boredom. he has done this and so much more- Charles Ackerman had inadvertently created a close-nit family.

And now, in October 2004, his dream continues on in the eyes of everyone who reads this, even those people who typed up "inappropriate" and expected pornography. Congratulations, you found it.

And now, his undead army of hungry vampire zombies continue on in hiding, waiting... travelling on into the future to ensure the salvation of the human race from the twisted robot plot to destroy this last beacon of light in the infinite universal night, right here on the planet Trump...