Control

Ahh what a great night, last night. Well, that's over. Today I've just been old hermit. No, I can't tell if I'm just getting almost too particular recently. I think I might becoming choosy or whatever the better word is. Like, I actually think I got aggravated with the thought of people doing things in my room in the way that I don't usually do them. I'm getting afraid that I'm beginning to want things to go my way. I'm almost sure that what I am actually doing has nothing to do with what I'm thinking. There's no way of telling for sure, I mean. I just can't tell because it's like I'm very sure that when I am doing things, that I am doing them for my only right reason. But then the situation just turns into smleh.

Well, all last week I was doing great. I was on a roll, I was writing all types of material and that type of stuff that I do that cannot possibly be criticized or considered futile (because I am also imagining the response to my admitting to writing interesting stuff being looked at as a 'lame hobby'). And see that's just it. I wasn't thinking about this type of crap. I wasn't thinking about the negative things that exist in other universes. I wasn't thinking about universes either, for that matter. I had a clear head for the week. It was like I was headed toward a certain zone, where no one could mention drugs, paranoia, or depression (none of which pertain to me, but bother me when I realize friends are going through this type of junk). I was feeling.. heh.. I was feeling ok (can't stand the phrase "feeling good" for some reason. I claim that I don't believe that a person can do that in the sense that no one has the right to judge what "good" feels like.) and I was calm, in anticipation. Maybe I was waiting for last night. Now, I'm just letting things bother me. People talking loud. i can't tell if that's something that... heh. I don't get bothered, of course not.

Ahr. What I was saying.. Last week, I was doing good. Trying to think of specifics besides the fact that there was a point where I realized the actor Jason Segel seemed cool. I guess the 'accomplished' feeling came from the fact that all of the notebooks I write all this crap in are pretty full. Now before you have already read the words "notebooks" and "write" and already gotten halfway through this sentence, realize that these 'notebooks' are really just.. ah.. you'd really have to see them, but the main point is that they barely have anything to do with writing. So do not even associate it or me with writing. I will not disgrace these things buy calling them "idea books," either. And that's my problem, this week. Or just today, actually. I fear that I actually might just be being a control freak. See, now I'm feeling like I remember myself saying this about myself once before. Actually, hah, I might have been talking about someone else. Still, I'm trying to keep level. I guess it's the fact that because last week, absolutely everything was in my hands, and now that this is the period in which I share my ideas, I am not willing to hear anyone else's. Which is false because I am amazingly open to ideas involving the comedy team. Yep the comedy team. That's what I've been so proud of. Especially last week. That is where my mind was last week. The comedy team. Fail-safe. And now that the day I was waiting for is over, I guess I've been back to whatever. Universe A. My home world. Not the real world, just the place where I grew up. Hm. Maybe that means I need to take each Universe A time to grow up. Or maybe I distribute my grow-ups equally into each universe. So stupid, the word, but in one of these worlds I've come to believe that not a soul should be ashamed of words. And in another, I think the opposite: the whole thing about certain people ruining certain things. In some places, at some moments, no one can ruin a thing.

Back in "Real" World, there's the sound of the lyrics "I told you- no I'll never let you drag me down to hell " which fits. I only call that one "Real" just because that's the crappy one where.. ahem.. sex, drama, and drugs exist. Again, not for me- literally, honestly, and the absolute truth. Those things can get real. But they're all complete bs to me. Cool because there's no way to detach yourself from it without looking like you're-- Hell.

Still, the fact that I've clearly gotten back into talking about this stuff, and the fact that I haven't gotten over the terminology factor just kind of bothers me. That's why I was trying to ignore certain friends of mine. It would do me good, and it has nothing to do with them--oh oh-- just the fact that what they're saying is just going to make me fixate on some other realities. You know. "Drag me down to hell". And that may be the cause of the control-freak thing, as well. I'm temporarily banishing certain folks just because they're not in the same mood as I am (mostly because they haven't heard the same news that I have). They're not thinking about the same things, and that- THAT has to be the problem with long-distance relationships of any sort. They see ABSOLUTELY different things. Absolutely no way to communicate. The details have to gather. Things become less effective from farther away. "You'd just have to be there".

So, what's the deal? Is there anything upsetting me? Well, one thing I do want to get over. That awkward meeting, yesterday. Ah. And that other awkward thing. And the thing I didn't do. And the thing from 2 years ago that I reminded myself of, an hour ago. Redemption? Hah, listen, I'm actually convincing myself that you can get over any awkward situation by turning into a big.. show. Well, hell, that ol' "success is the best revenge". Hah, now that quote is going to make me think of when I told that to Fide and he just focused on the 'revenge' part. But the point, moreover, is redemption.

Ok. I hope this flows well. Actually. Ok, I'm about to just type what I'm thinking in order to help myself out so hold up. Now, if I completely cut myself off from the whole: "imaginary people," "not exist," "universes," "I act different to certain people," "I can't remember my relationship with certain people," "man, I messed up," "anger," "disappointment," and "back-up plans"... does that mean I'm also cutting myself off from actual.. er.. "inspiration" for the things.. God.. that I do? Not to mention "what is it that we do?". That didn't help at all. Wait a minute. This has absolutely nothing to do with last night. As in- this is not even the same.. ah hell, here we go.

One of the things that got me earlier. Two things, actually. Hah. Hah. There is always absolute Hell in trying to defend Kanye West. There. Simple. Let's say defending Kanye West has absolutely nothing to do with the man himself. He's only famous for the fact that he symbolizes the exact situation that I am actually trying to defend. Kind of like Obama (because I thought of Chicago). I mean, that's what "idols" are (and I mean "idols" as famous people in general) there for. They represent an intricate ideal. That's why no one is "the one famous person". You become a fan of one particular thing because that represents that situation. I actually don't care if I'm saying anything new- remember that. But I'm just saying- to defend Kanye is to defend that one ideal of "what I am doing/saying is being translated horribly wrong". Like, jumping the gun. Like, trying to lift something heavy when you haven't even considered building muscles. As in- not ready YET. As in- maybe I need to grow up- once again. Or. Maybe I'm just not wrong.

Other thing was remembering something that could have been considered insanely passive-aggressive over the summer. I mean, how often do people around here blatantly use the words "main character" in reference to real life? Ok, first things first. I'm not saying I'll ever do so, but for someone to call themselves a main character is actually justifiable. I think I'm treading over old grounds (hah) so, I won't even justify that statement- which doesn't need to be justified because it is actually a kind-hearted thing, really. It's one of those things, you know? "Importance of self" (in social situations) is just a matter of moderation. I'm fine. No new lessons. Really just an argument of how "cool" it is to hate yourself vs. how "cool" it is to hate other people. Then there is just the absolutely honest and pure reality of "I have never heard any of those words". So, I'm fine. I just want to talk about that last part with someone before I finally decide what I mean.

Those two things kind of topped off this mood of today. Finding out that no matter what, I'm still going to look like I'm saying/doing mean, untrustable things? Even if the thing I was attempting is fool-proof? Maybe it's because i forget how I look when I'm doing it. I'm just fat :(

Yo.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Update

Yeah. Today, which is (can't stress this enough) completely not like me, I've gotten a ergh "short temper". I didn't even mention that I was getting ugh "frustrated" with the fam today. Shame that I put a negative outlook about them before I even said anything positive about how I feel about them. You know- because I don't even talk about "fam". Whoa. My God. I just said "feel"("yeah but didn't he talk about 'feeling ok' earlier?"). Ha. Hah. Actually, that just explains this entire thing. It has to just be today. So in that big old open world, I am just a nice, creative (y'all can't stress that enough) young man. Fat too! :P And once every almost-never, I can just be "man he mean"- and that'll be by complete accident. I'm a man of ideas. That's who.
-----------------------------------
and then. whoa forgot. oh yeah. how you're not allowed to bring up anything. you're only allowed to be reviewed. I'm being cruel, I think this is making it worse. As long as no one blatantly copies what I'm saying here. I've been sucked in. 1. I wanted to ignore the 'writing' side of things (this) 2. Forcing myself to ignore is just the same as ignoring anything that isn't an internal conflict.
Bottom line- last night was fun. My friends and I went to a show. I got a free dvd.

Dice

Ok, good. Good, right? Well yeah besides the poverty, pain, and sickness! Aha See, that's always the case. Because "evil" is always imaginary. Yeah, I've been moving on to saying "aha" lately. Take on me. But I've been either busy or more optimistic lately or something, I don't know.
Writing about it is probably what'll ruin it. No, but stuff has been collecting. I mean, yeah there are some prototypical "bad" things looming around but hell. The will always negates defeat.

Yeah I'm sick, but it's fine, really. We just got word that our "brain camp" thing will be taking place on January 29th! That means that I'll be, at the very least, marketing. It'll be good, and hopefully Cool Winners can perform. Going to have to remind myself... nah.. I was thinking I'd need that audio cable to connect a laptop to the speakers but nah.

College.

I guess I also edited 3 videos today but that's just what somebody who is talking about themselves would say. It won't really matter. So, you know. Ha. Hah. I'm getting visions of my future, finally. I'd better harness that crap while the getting is still good. I'll let you know. Other than that... well, I still feel busy. Just wrote a Christmas special. Terrible.

I'll holla (th

Farthest

Well, isn't it? The farthest I've gotten? I wouldn't think so but it actually may as well just be that. The farthest anyone or anything has gotten. Eh, now is not the time. Good luck, though.


It brings up a good point. A charity organization that updates its followers with inspiring quotes. But how often is too often when it comes to reading quotes? How far do people actually want to read? What if it was a celebrity updating what is going on in his or her life with quotes that got them to where they are now? Would fans be annoyed or inspired? These words (of wisdom or even phrases that result in "heh") are literally what go on in this person's head, but I am imagining that somehow these words can go unheeded. Ah first, though, if you literally don't see it then that's a different story. I am talking about pure annoyance with someone that you are a fan of. What the hell could it possibly mean to be a fan of someone? How far do you reasearch into someone's life without either: falling in or out of love, or using this knowledge to enhance your own? Then again the latter type of person couldn't even be considered a fan as much as a soon-to-be colleague. Whoa. Look, really I am specifically recording my thoughts immediately after seeing the page for To Write Love on Her Arms. Then, I thought of how what they post differs from what one average citizen might post. It's kind of merging with my thoughts of friends getting offended that I might be able to quote certain things as they come up. Eh, that's something else. Not far off, seeing as it deals with annoyance. I believe you always happen to read quotes at the perfect moments. Whatever that means. Here, the point is that you should kind of follow what would even provoke one person to quote another and at what moments. "Should." But not necessary. No should is really too necessary.

Companionship. You can't really be with someone that you don't really connect with, or someone that you can't easily talk endlessly to. Any relationship, basically. I'm not saying these opinions are mine. I'm thinking, one can have a dog as a companion and of course feel unfulfilled in the conversation aspect. But what about forgetting the qualities you're looking for? What if you begin to talk to a dog or anything else so much that you've just become busy? What if you let the human-thing set it, and you create your own motivation to keep on talking or keep on sitting-next-to. Maybe even the life-partner sense can work out. How have people been ignoring that their spouse "doesn't get it"? Maybe someone who "get's it" can only be with someone who "doesn't get it". The people closest to them will get it. That can be fine enough.

Well, I wonder if this worked at all. Those are my points. Just to keep me going, for like a split second, you know. Other than that... Heh well, just got word that I might be doing.... something.... in January. I hesitate to explain that I'm not giving exact detail yet.

I'm in the school registration process. Oh yeah of course. You know by know, right. Ugh. You. Still, if I can keep my head out of the mucky idea of what college used to be and what college actually is, then I'll be good. What college actually is versus what I'm actually doing are really perpendicular. Not necessarily clashing though. Fine. Skew. Hah irony. I've been talking about how horrifying Geometry was to me, and now look. Eh. Very small irony, yet big also since I used geometry humor. Wait, but that wasn't a joke. Ok stop. Like I said. If an academic career can be foiled simply by a chance disappearance of a classroom's folder, then I'm forced into skepticism.
What?

Last week is over. Haha. Good. It was very tyrannical. I didn't even know it. I cured. It must have been a good weekend. I still have a big off egg white crust on my sleeve. Possibly still a little bit of dog poit on the bottom of my shoe, as well. You can tell Matthew is going to be in the picture more often, soon.

This just in.. My mom just brought in an envelope, asking "Could this be for you and Tash?" The envelope was addressed to: Big Bro and Sister. There's no return address. I, eating leftovers, just said something about the possibility of anthrax. I'm not even sure what the state of the anthrax scare is, anymore. The post mark says it's from Michigan. I just finished eating, so I am more willing to try to open it. Gah. I hope it's a letter from the future. That's always my hope.

Wish me luck.

Back. I opened the envelope, carefully. Inside was a folded white sheet of paper. I pulled it out, and inside were two portrait-like photos of two young boys. Christ. I hate finding stuff like that. On the backs were their names and current ages. My first thoughts (I think even before turning them around to see the actual photos) were that I was supposed to be some assassin or bounty hunter. Now listen up. I don't even like that type of fiction. All I can say is that anyone else may have had the same thoughts. My minions told me that those were the first two options :). Really, that thought went away as soon as it arrived. Then of course came the "letter from the future" thing again. Well. These two boys are brown. I'll be damned if they're my offspring. Especially the one marked "Zach". I hate this kid. Hah, actually he looks like the boy from the George Lopez show. The sitcom, I mean. You know. I had to watch it on my Chicago trip. Rabbit ears.

Nope. I'll never have those two particular boys. They're no good. See, there's no telling though. An envelope with no return address. That's either attributed to forgetfulness, lack of envelope etiquette, or hell. From the future. Come on. And in the end of it all- please just let me have my imagination. I wonder whatever happened to that one girl that I met a couple times as a kid. Her uncle or family friend or just some older guy kept teasing her about having an extra toe. No telling if she actually did have an extra toe. But then I guess it wouldn't be a tease-able thing if it were true. I think I was just sitting off to the side, bored. I wonder if I actually made friends with those kids. I think it might have been their mom that was friends with my dad. Now I remember the lady's name because it was the first time I ever heard the name Reina. My dad told me it meant "queen". I keep visualizing this.. these streets that kind of look like they belonged in an unfinished neighborhood. I remember walking around... or being forced out of common courtesy to walk around... with her kids. Something about juice, too. Gah, that's just going to make me think about Ralph. And Beverly. Weird periods of time with my dad's friends. My dad's friends who just happened to have kids for me to play with.

Wait. I'm still talking about these two bastards that got sent to me in the mail. What, am I doing charity now? Christ, who are these kids? The obvious answer would be to send them to the correct address, right? Nah. This is the address that was written on the letter. Minus the "northeast" part. Wait, there were previous renters. The only reason I didn't think about that is because I had heard about the guy who was here in between us living here. He kicked holes in the walls, apparently. Who the hell would send pictures of young men to a man like that? In that case, the family... or friends.... will sort that out, amongst themselves. It's probably just some pathological gift someone just sent me as a cruel, Hank joke. Other than that, I'll just exploit the hell out of these pictures... no, no, they bother me too much. I would just kind of jokingly use them as placeholders in books at the most. And I won't burn them. I won't burn these pictures literally because I'm suspicious of the fact that I'm even thinking about burning them in the first place. Sigh. Look. I'll leave them where they are. I don't know the name for that particular article of furniture, but that's where they are. Sort of tucked under the paper towel my mom uses to collect incense ashes. There.

No one could have possibly expected this, but this is what happened. It happened to me in the middle of some odd writing practice I was doing. Good enough. I won't forget it. And speaking of which, I don't want to forget the other details. On my way to the piece of furniture I just mentioned, I did stop in the kitchen. I almost placed the envelope and pictures on the counter. That would have been too much. No, but my mom had just cooked these little apple tarters or something. Very good. A thin pie crust with chunks of green apple, with some sort of caramel-like (it very well may be caramel. or home-made caramel) sauce, and toffee chips. I've already forgotten them. There's plenty left, but I wanted to test whether or not I could hold off on devouring a dessert immediately. See. I'm good. Thing kinda have to be good. Gah, to think. The one thing that I have a tinge of doubt about right now is just.. my other life. My 1st 'other' life. I'm feeling iffy about.. ok there's got to be a different 'venue' for me to talk honestly about the..ugh.. comedy team. There's nothing "ugh" about it, but a very harsh change of pace. Minions telling me "no, don't." but I've got it. There's no right way. I'm feeling very good about the state of this topic (and we all like to think we're caring the most out of anyone) but there are very tiny little frays that could become problems later. I don't know. That's something I'd have to talk about. "Talk" about.

Well, then. It's good. Plus, I'm offended by the word "good". Plus, I can't tell if I'm saying "I'm offended" as a habit that Nick has rubbed off onto me. Now, if I was really in a paranoia-ish mood, then I'd completely change my wording of that last sentence. Current mood: lounge. Back hurts, and I'm just now realizing I didn't take the walk I planned for today. Craig. Ah well.

This worked.

Theater.

It started out with a dream, and the most significant part was the number 14. That's how many seconds we were able to last. You were keeping score. I noticed, so I one-upped and wrote 15. Maybe it'd give us something to strive for, next peek. Somehow, you ended up on my left side and finally spoke. Unfortunately, all you did was inform me of a quote. As a result, what you said was something about a phallic object being over-used. Still- underneath your actual words, I heard a tone of something like "You know, we're not always going to have this chance. We might as well enjoy it (or do something about it)" That's when I actually had to wake up, and walk around.

Before that conclusion of the dream, in hindsight, the storyline was a premonition of the subject-matter of the actual day that was ahead. I was in a car. I did things that would offend anyone who had known me, previously. This person was offended, but it was settled. We had all sat down to watch some animated feature about animals. At a point there were three animals, separated by two lines on the screen. The cartoon outlines of the animals had stood stagnant, and the shape of the animals were essentially a maze. In the actual context of the maze, the edges were bumpers in which all biological matter of the animal had exited the body. These animated creatures were decaying, from the inside.

Then came the part where you joined me. If you know who "you" are, then it can only mean you remember the same dream. We were keeping track of the time it took us to be able to look into the eyes of one another. One another. I know. It legitimizes itself because, like I said, I had to wake up. When I did wake up, it was one exactly one hour before the time I had planned to wake up. I had a plan, this day. I was thrown an empty package of birth-control pills to throw away. I asked what these ones in the middle are for. Mon. Tue. Wed. Thur. Fri. Sat. So on. The ones in the middle- blatant placebo. That would be the word that echoes throughout the day. Placebo. It's just so elementary.

I had time to prepare, so I actually considered which parts of my plan I would actually keep the same. It turns out, that placebo was involved- in contrast to what I did not think. Reunited with the road, and our party grew. It hit me. We had to walk around, so that our pride would not get a little bit "vintage." Our first stop was in the corner store that everybody steals from. I call it that because I was the last one out. I remember convincing myself that there had actually been gummy cyanide candies, inside. There's no telling how long I was actually in the store, or how long I actually did drink from the water fountain. I held some water in my mouth, reminiscent of when you weren't allowed to keep drinking from the fountain in earlier school days. I was looking in a mirror when I finally took that last sip, as if I had gone back for an entire other drink.

It took forever for me to finally walk outside, and to realize that the figures outside waiting were actually each one of the people I had walked here with. We finally sat down, and that's exactly it. I stopped moving. They stopped moving. I made a point, I disappeared. My plan showed up. A table of a lot of mascots for the month, thus far. Here for me, that's where it began. This was my chance, but the two days prior were intended for forgetting what I would do in this situation. It wasn't the hypothetical situation that I could expand upon for hours, but it was somewhat of a digit. All through the day, people asked my if that was a "heart" on my neck. It was just red marker. One of the first few words that were said involved the variation of 'placebo' that caught me off guard. Someone was going to call me a phony.

Two people met, and I couldn't enjoy it. People meeting each other is one of my favorite situations. Sometimes that situation would cause me to scream. It was for the better. I remember trying my hardest to figure out the word I was looking for to portray the visual of a tv-personality's lines being scrolled up through a monitor. I had to think of that in order to explain how someone had previously been speaking in paragraphs. Underneath, something much more important happened this day.

It took me about three hours to eat the box of rice and beans that I was fooled into buying, when I needed it the most. Slowly, several disappointeds came and went. I didn't disappoint them, at all. My piece of disappointment came from the delivery of some message I thought I would be able to send. There were some people who were around me, for the sake of being around me. I didn't know it. There were several times, in the past, that I wanted to be around them. I didn't hear what I wanted. That's what makes me a phony. A synthetic. Intellectuals want groups of intellectuals because they have a higher concentration of being alone. Being alone makes words that much harder to hit. You can't really hide for two weeks, and expect to jump out and tell someone why they should hide. Redeem yourself, and just present it to them like you had planned.

So, there. One takes shape of the real thing, but it doesn't really give much effort in to being portrayed as the real thing- that one ends up being the disappointment. The other somehow gets help from others into being just something similar. A clear case of "Hell, why not?" So, I claimed not to know. I didn't know it then, but my state of being stubborn fixed my dilemma that I was trying to enact the entire weekend. Eventually, it's a paradox, but now I just need a lot of replacements. A lot of Hell, why not's. Some imaginary friend, they've got. In the same breath, I don't want to give any person the satisfaction of being imaginary if that's what they claim to be.

Although, now that I think about it, we're probably giving the same reaction. Gabbing and being gabbed about. If only our spokesperson swapped places. It'd make the story a little bit more suspenseful. So my plan, and paradox, was just detachment. That being done, just means it's time to go on with the rest of the day. That's when I remembered that I just couldn't. This was the last stroke before my portrait dries. My next mission was to figure out who I thought I was. Something like that.

I was told who my mom and my sister were. They're just names, this day. I was told that I wasn't doing enough. It was a parody of publicity, spoken by those who mirror it. Researching me, they know that I'm somewhat of an alter ego. I'm a generous alter ego with no need to hide the original person. I will, however, hide the name. It'll show up, inevitably. I found them because I was separated from my central "group." I was apart from my temporary group- the friends you end up with on a field trip. I had left the tabloids. Again, I was in the middle of a crowded town center. I heard the same voice that I heard one year ago. One of the local bands that perform here, each year. That's when I was convinced of my latest theory. The one where I shamefully agree that we're all in the same year, always. It made sense, this time.

There was another part where I had tried to explain my theory that I had just before that one. It's ok, though. There's only one missing piece. The second time I explained that one, was when I realized a common theme in children. I was with another group, the new-schoolers. I looked down to see a child calling my name because he looks up to me, in a matter of thinking. Hell, I can't disappoint him. I can't let him down, even if he only thinks I'm from the tv- which I am not. I asked the new school advice on what I should be doing with my life. I asked because I expected them to answer with exactly what their parents are giving them. They surprised me, but only left me with what I had already known. Who isn't thinking about travel, in this situation?

I convinced myself that my descendant was staring deep into my eyes. Still a baby. This was the second one that let me know what I was doing. I was walking around, station-to-station, asking who I was and what I should do. Looking for more, I ended up near where I want to be one day. That's when my televised group showed up. They were looking for me, and I went into the place that I want to go one day. I had been there before, it was no big deal, but circumstance is a factor. With them, I was reunited with the personal effects of my group. This was a point where I would not say a word. Lost, and revolving around me, this was my self. There was the mother and father, the insecure, the introverted, the skeptic, and the subconscious. I'm just as ashamed as their ability to decide, but they were a working body. My body walked through the area, just as I do when I wander. We detached again. This time, minus the introverted and the skeptic. We were among the casual.

Toward the end of it all, I realize that I am who I am in others. Out-of-body, I could practically be nothing more than a fake profile. I could be the main character of everyone's favorite story wrapped into one protagonist. Just as an imaginary person can be remembered in legends, folklore, and handed down stories- I can be remembered in casual conversation. Physically, I am represented in the actions of a group of any given number of friends. Quite literally, I'd be a desperate attempt of a child's imagination to create bs.

Feeling doesn't matter much to me, I guess. I can empathize, sympathize, and even synthesize (maybe even "peepathize")- but feeling is not a reaction I will ever aim for. I guess that swaps one letter. What I realized, through this visual journey, was just a couple of hints for what I can do. I think. This time, I hope not to disappoint.

I am myself, and I might as well be my fake self. Your self.

Speak

"Forget looking good! I am in pain!" - Just written down, here. Reminds me, "when I hear the word 'freedom,' I think of a sandwich." Has to be.

Ok, well, I've been getting word that there's possibilities of a good weekend. It kind of presents itself as either a climax or a reward. Like a way to point out that things don't happen according to the written record of weeks, months, and hot dates. Ouch.

Yeah, though. Whoa, I accidentally, heh, "good" weekend. I mean. Hell, it's positive. Anyway, mine and their days off. Experimentals. Then, just every day I try to tickle the thought of happen-to-be. Just, the entire time, my chest hurts worse than a lot of things. Might need a bigger boat, though.

If I don't get anxious, then I have a treasure chest. I have a bruised treasure chest. An embarrassing chest that has gained me a green bruise of a golden chest. If it spreads, then I can't do much for treasure. Hard to keep my posture.

Who is letting me do these things? Flawless. I will pack my opening statement, my review, my resume, and my pitch. Some head-shots. Just to prove that I am able to get away with hopping the fence. My poor eyebrows. They've had it the worst.

Trouble, too. Not here, but in old words from today. Old worlds from today. All the same hour- I dare you to travel. I hope you do not enjoy your trip- that's mine. Not mine, though.

Almost as if my fingers are just too good for this. Wow, I walked around in those places, and I hope you will too. I've been planting the scenery as well because I can't remember these places not looking familiar. He's some non-exist. I hope there's a shooting. That megaphone. Thank goodness, nah go for God. More relevant.

Allowed to. Tips of these things. Nah, it's ok. I'm in pain, with no response. Familiarity, all over again. Ouch. Why don't people who claim to be in pain repeat the word "ouch" just in case some one hears? "Wow, you must hurt pretty bad, lol. What's going on?"

No, ouch, though.

Allowed To

No, see, I woke up fine today. It was just waking up that was the problem. For the first few hours, folks noticed how unawake I must've been. Bags under my eyes until about 2 or 3? I woke up right at the edge of having to leave. Like I used to when I went to school. Except this is 11-12.

I got out of it, fine. Just noticing folks aware of the fact that I was already completely gone and I still had 8 hours ahead. I also tried to hide in my imagination today. Literally, for good reason. I was trying to get a head start on writing Dait-A-Base. Actual symptoms of worry. Disciplined against worry, so this is something else.

Going to sleep was weird last night, though. It was a mix of "oh crap, I should delete that before anyone else sees it" mixed with "oh my god no, that's complete impossible" kind of. I think today was one of those days where everyone feels the exact same as everyone else. I didn't understand why I was involved. Hate to admit how "zombie" appeared in multiple unlikely situations. Also a period of time, where I feel almost "nerdy" I guess, for the things I'm saying. I honestly can't help the fact that science fiction ideals of my life are constantly in my head. Except, what I'm thinking has to be legit. I just mean the whole coincidentals, and intangibility.

What I am thinking. Legitimacy, Illegitimacy, Exactly, Mutual Friends, Coincidences, dreams, Stability, Disgust, Time, and something more than Exactly. Whether or not I am legitimately thinking those things for my own reasons. Agh, how to fit in life after high school. That's what we're all thinking. This other group. Not house-buyers anymore. Actually exactly that. The house-buyers are separate. Driven by what has to drive them. The things you think when you're 17 vs. the things you think when you're 18. Both halves of both ages too. Right, my to-do list.
How do I get to just be me, Me I mean. Not "being myself :)" but, how do I do that thing? I have a lot of personal studies to accomplish, then. I'd need to do every tiny detail. In the right order. Either that or discover that expression of one's self is wrong. If it is wrong to keep track of every single detail, just to be entertained by the past. If it is wrong to shell out these things that are actually that much more entertaining and interesting than what has ever come out. I've already disciplined myself to the point of refraining from talking about anything that might accidentally impress anyone. I mean, avoided impressing anyone. At a point, I thought impressing was wrong. So, what do I know?

The goal of us House-Buyers may just be to become an Arranger. They're all stages. Not phases. When you're confused and you want to just "that's what I'll do, I'll save us all and I'll keep us in a big house so we can do what we want." A House-Buyer. But when you're stuck in all this gross House-Buying...if you find your way out of that being your concentration, you just need to Arrange something. Pull the strings. "I'm glad about arrangements." I'm not listing any hierarchy, but oh well, who is going to read this the same why I typed it? We find each other as House-Buyers. Whichever stage is before that. Hm, the cell that reproduces. Everyone has thought the way of the before-hand stage. Thought, only. I know I did that stage. I was it. Not a thought of social anxiety, which I had to learn along the way. Not a thought of "gotta work two jobs and go back to school." No influence. What alone will do for you.

I disagree again.

Pillow Though

Actually an hour later but malfunctions. Almost throwing in the towel until I remembered last night's technique. Restarting the computer. I had never trusted that logic before. Bare feet too, actually. This bandage won't stay on my hand. That's for me to remember. Ok, and today I've been dealing with my eyesight. There's just no way to prove how well my eyesight was until now. I really hope it's just the cold weather, like it was last year.

Ok, so work first thing. I was kind of on edge. For the first half of the day, yesterday wasn't over. Everything I heard, I expected to be trouble. It wasn't the trouble I expected, so it didn't matter. All I ended up hearing was chuffer talk, to keep me worrying. Then, I actually heard "I see you did a lot yesterday," and it actually meant that all the work I did actually showed. I didn't see it when I was done, yesterday, but at least it crept in somehow. After that, i really did not want anything else to be told to me. I actually planned on saying that, too. So, I was ready for it to be done.

Mom came to pick me up, and I was expecting the stuff she had planned to be earlier. When I saw her, she was debating whether or not to sign up for some free physical test, tomorrow. She did, and we left. Since nothing was happening until later, we deposited my check and she dropped me off at the library. Homeless man introduced himself. I got three fiction and three non-fiction. I didn't mean for that to happen, but I must've set my limit to 6 books. Just some bs.

I guess when I came back home I jsut started downloading videos. Old videos I had made, videos Nick made, one that Grant posted of mine, and various classmate videos. I did my thing, and ended up with a personal little freakout. It won't be one of the memorable ones, but it's definitely one of those to start off another one of our little renaissances. If anyone but me sees it, though,..

First thing when mom got back, was to eat at Stask and Shane. Odd, kind of. It was actually very cold. We came back home for a second, then we went bowling. Yeah, I figured I'd be tired by this time. Wasn't that bad, but we ordered quesadillas. Required fun, basically. Fide was texting and calling, thinking he was missing something but it's just a Friday for him. I have no idea when my next Friday is. For that matter, I have no idea when my next Friday is. Ok vision.

We went back to the Windy Hill house so Mom could get some sheet she forgot. Actually picked up some laundry, and I scoped for anything we may have left there. Hell if anything of mine is lying around there. I still have no idea where my box of clothes is. Probably in the worst place possible, just because it's nowhere to be found. I'm not explaining correctly. Two more 8 hour days left, that I know of. I'd better go.

end