This is me. Killing time.
I slept for 10 hours last night. 8pm - 6am. Good choices are rarely made, and I can safely say that this may be one of them. Granted, I'm still pretty bored and waiting another half hour before I get coffee. I'm not really tired. I may even opt for decaf. Just kidding, that's crazies talk.
I was up at Nick's aunt's cabin all weekend. Eventful, and I'm really sunburned. The aforementioned weekend is the reason for the excessive sleep. Two nights in a row with Me, Nick's cousin Johnnie (5 years old), and Amanda, Nick's sister (19 years old) squished on a fold out couch. That is not even mentioning the fact that we all like to sprawl out in awkward positions… but I'm the only light sleeper who yields to resistance. At one point on Saturday night, I had Amanda kicking me and Johnnie's head on my chest and fist pushed against my windpipe. It really is no wonder I could barely squeeze sleep in.
The lake was fun, and I'm pretty sunburned. Skin cancer, here I come. The worst part was the drive home when we were all crabby and wanted to kill eachother just for somewhere to sleep without putting too much stress on any of our muscles.
In other news, Maja is finally back and she totes brought me fake LV wallet and Prada sunglasses. Try Frauda. Totally fake.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
My new lover...
sleek and white. her name is lajita.
she's got the hottest body, but her attitude is naughty.
and, dude, she's a Dell...
this is our first date of what I can feel is a long, meaningful relationship.
she's got the hottest body, but her attitude is naughty.
and, dude, she's a Dell...
this is our first date of what I can feel is a long, meaningful relationship.
Building Houses Out Of Match Sticks...
...and when it gets too hot, you've got me to blame.
So, my weekend was littered with let-downs and nothing-fights with my parents. I feel so angsty, and I use that word too much… so when I actually feel angsty, it looses it's meaning. I need to have fun sometime soon. 'Nuff said.
So, my weekend was littered with let-downs and nothing-fights with my parents. I feel so angsty, and I use that word too much… so when I actually feel angsty, it looses it's meaning. I need to have fun sometime soon. 'Nuff said.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Writer's Block-ing
Listen:
The city sleeps with her eyes hung open like shudders on her four-star homes and doors in the shanty towns that line her undersides. Eyes of shadow well-water and of windows gaping open. The city has eyes in every corner and all are open. All.
Her lights line the abandoned streets, as if searching for something; someone. Searching, searching, like lyricists in vain through thesauruses and dictionaries and lovers’ eyes for the perfect word.
She breathes sighs of loneliness through the smoky boulevard, and the wind that escapes her cancerous lungs is grey and thick.
Each one of her nimble fingers shadows the alleyways to hide her children: the children of the city. Each child embracing their short skirts and eye makeup… only venturing from the shadows to accompany those in slowing cars: the men with rough skin and tight-knuckled lust. The love has long since been washed from their fingernails, and their faces haven’t stretched to smiles in years. They have come to get what they are looking for.
And even though I’ve been awake all night, I feel as though the city has wrapped a free leg around me and pulled me tight under her, where we could fall through dreamless slumber for days.
...and so begins my finally realized dream of a short novel. That's right. Since I half-announced my goal of publishing something before I exit my teenage years, I feel compelled to actually try. When my six-thousand page novel is not accepted by any publisher, I'll drop my head in shame and retreat to medical research.
However, I feel that editors will see my exuberant, passionate youth and look upon me with pity. "Give the kid a chance," they'll say, and they'll be so right when I'm rocketed to fame. You know what will be on the front page of every newspaper? John Sand is the new J. K. Rowling: Millions Line up for Brilliant Sequel. and then, all I'll say is "I told you so."
Actually, I'd rather be regarded as the new Fitzgerald, but I'll settle for any semi-well-known author. Let's be serious, when it comes to fame, I'm easy to please. I've been thinking of psuedonyms (not that I can spell that). J. Thomas Montgomery or something like that. <3
The city sleeps with her eyes hung open like shudders on her four-star homes and doors in the shanty towns that line her undersides. Eyes of shadow well-water and of windows gaping open. The city has eyes in every corner and all are open. All.
Her lights line the abandoned streets, as if searching for something; someone. Searching, searching, like lyricists in vain through thesauruses and dictionaries and lovers’ eyes for the perfect word.
She breathes sighs of loneliness through the smoky boulevard, and the wind that escapes her cancerous lungs is grey and thick.
Each one of her nimble fingers shadows the alleyways to hide her children: the children of the city. Each child embracing their short skirts and eye makeup… only venturing from the shadows to accompany those in slowing cars: the men with rough skin and tight-knuckled lust. The love has long since been washed from their fingernails, and their faces haven’t stretched to smiles in years. They have come to get what they are looking for.
And even though I’ve been awake all night, I feel as though the city has wrapped a free leg around me and pulled me tight under her, where we could fall through dreamless slumber for days.
...and so begins my finally realized dream of a short novel. That's right. Since I half-announced my goal of publishing something before I exit my teenage years, I feel compelled to actually try. When my six-thousand page novel is not accepted by any publisher, I'll drop my head in shame and retreat to medical research.
However, I feel that editors will see my exuberant, passionate youth and look upon me with pity. "Give the kid a chance," they'll say, and they'll be so right when I'm rocketed to fame. You know what will be on the front page of every newspaper? John Sand is the new J. K. Rowling: Millions Line up for Brilliant Sequel. and then, all I'll say is "I told you so."
Actually, I'd rather be regarded as the new Fitzgerald, but I'll settle for any semi-well-known author. Let's be serious, when it comes to fame, I'm easy to please. I've been thinking of psuedonyms (not that I can spell that). J. Thomas Montgomery or something like that. <3
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Here's To The Fast Times.
Work. Work? Work!
I found another amazing band that I will ask to be my lover. Obviously, they will accept and I will travel around the world and become famous when they are surely discovered. Their name? All Time Low. Check them out at http://purevolume.com/alltimelow.
It's weird, because I went dorm room shopping yesterday and the fact that I'm leaving hasn't even hit me yet. I keep praying for it to hit... but it might not be until I've been up there for a month. I'd rather have it hit than sink in. Sinking doesn't exactly have a hasty connotation.
I know my roommate, Steve Huck is his name. Sports are his game... and that's literally it, according to his facebook. Eat, sleep, breathe sports... and the only sport I enjoy, aka soccer, (running/swimming don't count) isn't even listed in his profile. Political views? Conservative. I'm hoping he's one of those kids who is actually way moderate/liberal, but says they're conservative, because that's what they're parents say to be. Even if he's not, I'm good at avoiding certain subjects.
Upsides? (<-- I don't think that can be one word). His musical taste is quality... and that's pretty much the only criteria I have for friends... and since I listen to everything... it's pretty easy to be considered my friend. He hates Kelly Clarkson, though... which may be an issue, haha. I'll avoid the subject entirely. It comes up more often in everyday conversation than one would expect.
I hope he doesn't already have a microwave, because I bought one yesterday. Good times. My room colors are red, black, white, and sliver. I'm excited, because I'm going to try to stick with those colors in everything. Pretty sure I dropped an unnecessary amount of money at Target yesterday, and it was glorious. I just wish he would message me back already! I'm impatient.
"I can keep a secret,
if you can keep me guessing.
The flavor of your lips
is enough to keep me pressing
for more than just a moment
of truth between the lies."
I found another amazing band that I will ask to be my lover. Obviously, they will accept and I will travel around the world and become famous when they are surely discovered. Their name? All Time Low. Check them out at http://purevolume.com/alltimelow.
It's weird, because I went dorm room shopping yesterday and the fact that I'm leaving hasn't even hit me yet. I keep praying for it to hit... but it might not be until I've been up there for a month. I'd rather have it hit than sink in. Sinking doesn't exactly have a hasty connotation.
I know my roommate, Steve Huck is his name. Sports are his game... and that's literally it, according to his facebook. Eat, sleep, breathe sports... and the only sport I enjoy, aka soccer, (running/swimming don't count) isn't even listed in his profile. Political views? Conservative. I'm hoping he's one of those kids who is actually way moderate/liberal, but says they're conservative, because that's what they're parents say to be. Even if he's not, I'm good at avoiding certain subjects.
Upsides? (<-- I don't think that can be one word). His musical taste is quality... and that's pretty much the only criteria I have for friends... and since I listen to everything... it's pretty easy to be considered my friend. He hates Kelly Clarkson, though... which may be an issue, haha. I'll avoid the subject entirely. It comes up more often in everyday conversation than one would expect.
I hope he doesn't already have a microwave, because I bought one yesterday. Good times. My room colors are red, black, white, and sliver. I'm excited, because I'm going to try to stick with those colors in everything. Pretty sure I dropped an unnecessary amount of money at Target yesterday, and it was glorious. I just wish he would message me back already! I'm impatient.
"I can keep a secret,
if you can keep me guessing.
The flavor of your lips
is enough to keep me pressing
for more than just a moment
of truth between the lies."
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Equilibrium Inebriated
I'm just on here killing fifteen minutes before going off to reenact the breaking of Kristina's arm exactly one year ago today.
I was at the Mall of America today, and it's like I refuse to believe I need to save money. I feel guilty about buying new things until my parents tell me that i shouldn't buy them, or that they're too small. Then, I'm just bitter that they're telling me what to do.
I did become a severe hypocrite today when I gave in at H&M and bought man-pris. They're mildly awesome, and I feel bad about dissing all of them. I don't think that I consider them actual capris, because they're baggy and short enough to be considered shorts... at least that's what I'm telling myself.
The best part of be[lie]ve is the lie.
I was at the Mall of America today, and it's like I refuse to believe I need to save money. I feel guilty about buying new things until my parents tell me that i shouldn't buy them, or that they're too small. Then, I'm just bitter that they're telling me what to do.
I did become a severe hypocrite today when I gave in at H&M and bought man-pris. They're mildly awesome, and I feel bad about dissing all of them. I don't think that I consider them actual capris, because they're baggy and short enough to be considered shorts... at least that's what I'm telling myself.
The best part of be[lie]ve is the lie.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Love is Just a Click Away
I'm pretty sure that I literally sent around 30 Facebook wall messages in the last hour. That's how fun work is right now! I've been here for about two hours, and so I've got a little over six left. Good times. Honestly, how many of those messages were meaningful dialogue worthy of attention? Not many, and even fewer were actually amusing. They're mostly littered with "I miss you"s and "I haven't seen you in like forever"s and even a few "call me so we can get together"s. The sad truth is that I just don't make time.
Main issue that I need to focus on today: I can't be best friends with everyone. I'm spreading my relationships much too thin. I literally have about 10 people that I consider myself really close friends with. That's unnatural, and it frustrates all of them when they learn that I don't have time for lunch/dinner with them more than once a week. There are only 14 meals in a week that I can share with someone, and I eat with someone different at most of them. My time is wearing thin, and so is my wallet, but my waist isn't. I need to find ways to keep in touch without giving up money and gaining weight. My freshmen 15 is here a year early, and any more weight, I'll look like a fat version of my eighth grade self.
"OMG, I haven't seen you in forever. I miss my favorite lunch date! Call me sometime this weekend so we can get together." The problem is that sometimes I mean it, and sometimes I say it because I don't have anything to say. I also feel like more and more people have been calling me since I came out. Everyone wants a gay friend, because it's so hip.
Well, I guess that means I'm the newest accessory. …rock on...
Main issue that I need to focus on today: I can't be best friends with everyone. I'm spreading my relationships much too thin. I literally have about 10 people that I consider myself really close friends with. That's unnatural, and it frustrates all of them when they learn that I don't have time for lunch/dinner with them more than once a week. There are only 14 meals in a week that I can share with someone, and I eat with someone different at most of them. My time is wearing thin, and so is my wallet, but my waist isn't. I need to find ways to keep in touch without giving up money and gaining weight. My freshmen 15 is here a year early, and any more weight, I'll look like a fat version of my eighth grade self.
"OMG, I haven't seen you in forever. I miss my favorite lunch date! Call me sometime this weekend so we can get together." The problem is that sometimes I mean it, and sometimes I say it because I don't have anything to say. I also feel like more and more people have been calling me since I came out. Everyone wants a gay friend, because it's so hip.
Well, I guess that means I'm the newest accessory. …rock on...
Monday, July 10, 2006
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Oh, Baby, I'm Addicted.
When Enrique sang the song Addicted, I never knew what he meant until I watched the first season of Grey's Anatomy.
"I love you, in a really, really big pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me, choose me, love me."
-- Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy
So hit me over the head for cursing the show, because I have watched the first season 1 and a half times in two days. And something tells me that I'll have watched it four times before the next season even comes out on DVD.
"It's like candy, but with blood, which is so much better!"
"I love you, in a really, really big pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me, choose me, love me."
-- Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy
So hit me over the head for cursing the show, because I have watched the first season 1 and a half times in two days. And something tells me that I'll have watched it four times before the next season even comes out on DVD.
"It's like candy, but with blood, which is so much better!"
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Cinderelly, Cinderelly
Parental units? MIA.
Party? Not so much. Whenever the rents go to watch my sisters' athletic abilities (yet another one of my glorious inadequacies), I'm offered two choices:
1) Attend the events, while being awkwardly crushed on by teenies. Not interested.
2) Stay home and recieve an excellently long list of chores, most of which will go unnoticed once completed.
Numero dos it is. The issue is that when I clean, I clean. I go all out and clean the house from top to bottommus, and to what end? It's just the way I am: do something and do it right the first time. So, I waste my entire day completing tasks that will be negated around one hour after everyone else returns from their escapade. Poor me, a middle-class white boy in Suburbia actually has to work? What the hell?
Today's List?
- Horribly belated Thank-You notes. I'm so grateful (only 22 left!)
- Mow the lawn
- Water the flowers
- Vaccum
- Laundry
- Dishes
...make the fire, fix the breakfast, wash the dishes, do the mopping...
Party? Not so much. Whenever the rents go to watch my sisters' athletic abilities (yet another one of my glorious inadequacies), I'm offered two choices:
1) Attend the events, while being awkwardly crushed on by teenies. Not interested.
2) Stay home and recieve an excellently long list of chores, most of which will go unnoticed once completed.
Numero dos it is. The issue is that when I clean, I clean. I go all out and clean the house from top to bottommus, and to what end? It's just the way I am: do something and do it right the first time. So, I waste my entire day completing tasks that will be negated around one hour after everyone else returns from their escapade. Poor me, a middle-class white boy in Suburbia actually has to work? What the hell?
Today's List?
- Horribly belated Thank-You notes. I'm so grateful (only 22 left!)
- Mow the lawn
- Water the flowers
- Vaccum
- Laundry
- Dishes
...make the fire, fix the breakfast, wash the dishes, do the mopping...
Friday, July 07, 2006
Time for Summer
The first entry in a blog is always the hardest to write.
I would actually assume that this entry is what turns millions would-be bloggers away, because they just don't know what to write. Or, they write their first blog and no one reads or comments. Why should they care what I have to say?
Well, this blog is the new outlet for emotional stress and frustration, and not written to impress anyone (or anything!). I swear that the following blogs contain most of the anger that drives me, and I am generally a happy person.
Well, until tomorrow, readers!
I would actually assume that this entry is what turns millions would-be bloggers away, because they just don't know what to write. Or, they write their first blog and no one reads or comments. Why should they care what I have to say?
Well, this blog is the new outlet for emotional stress and frustration, and not written to impress anyone (or anything!). I swear that the following blogs contain most of the anger that drives me, and I am generally a happy person.
Well, until tomorrow, readers!
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