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.

Leisure Cout

yawn oh yeah, no. Another failed attempt to try to see that movie in theaters. Can't see why it isn't meant for me to see the movie, though. I think it's a money thing. I have the money. I may have even set aside the money to see this movie. Is it not the right time? Why would this movie, of all movies, only be at one theater and have only 2 obscure showing times. Seriously. It's like one of those plot devices. It's just there to kind of, fill the list of movies currently playing. Oh my god. Now it's not even playing anymore. Well, here goes a note to self. [Make sure that one day you get a private screening of 'that movie' in a theater.]

I'm not into just seeing movies. It's just this one that I was specifically trying to go see. So. Oh well. Imagine spending all that money on making a movie, specifically for the purpose of not letting anyone watch it. What is this, a Dear Diary type of deal? Anyway. Day off and did nothing completely worth while. Learned some and got some ideas, but not a jam-packed day.

The plan was to deposit my check, today. Decided to wait. Though, I did get my debit card in the mail along with a college brochure. Just two separate things in the mail on the same day. Tomorrow, I have work in the morning but it's grocery, so it's easier when associated with having to wake up early. I mean, morning + produce = 7:30 and tedious. The fact that I already know that.

So, I've decided on the basement, I think. I haven't told my mom I want the basement, but she said it didn't matter which room I chose. My only problem is that there'd just be an extra room upstairs and even if someone did move in with us, they'd have to share that bathroom with my mom. Haha. My plan is to kind of make a bedroom-studio thing, where one half- the closest to the closets and bathroom- would be the bedroom and the other half would be this studio idea I have. I hope I don't sound ridiculous, but at the expense of whoever, I can see exactly what I'd be doing. Like, when I have a day to myself, I can: wake up, shower [YES], teeth, and get right to work. And when ideas hit in the middle of the night.. well hey. Office, too, for a place to keep those big-ass notebooks that take up space all the time. Then just kind of pull all-nightons.

Basically, the same feeling of 'too-good-to-be-hey' but that's how I felt about being able to get the house back in the first place. Still, yeah, other people in mind. Actually, now that I mention it.. Ha, I was at Nick's house today. Fide had just taken a shower when I got there. Alex didn't say anything but she took a picture of me with her phone for the sake of posting it immediately. Nick mentioned something about "everyone thinking they're number one until about the age 23." One of those things I didn't want to take his word for, but I felt like if I was just ignoring something I happened to hear then I'd be fooling myself, yet if it holds true, then it probably means it doesn't matter if I so happened to hear it. Kind of welcoming another paradox, about now. Heh, feeling comfortable around paradox.

Oh and that's why I brought that up. That one tense conversation.. concept of "which one of us is going to buy houses for the others." Er, that's what I like to call it. That's how we all found each other, I believe. It all started when we died. Basically. Just how poor guy just "one day I'm gonna make it big and do something nice for all my friends." when you can tell he's.. in short... missing something. Something. Missing a certain concept that all people who have "made it" are aware of. Or missing the point of why you feel like you should do this in the first place. Or just missing the ability to feel the same way you did when you said that. Can't just "I'm not saying that's not me" or "Not saying I'm one of those." I just kind of like how it's a floating frustration. You state how you're going to make life better for your friends. And your friends just stare. Or, if one of them's in a specific bad mood, then you get a "you say that shir all the time." type of thing. I guess it has to happen when it happens. Now is the time where the hindsight proof of the future is being made. You know, to look back and "oh yeah TreadTreadTread was always the better one when it came to CradleCrabCredit."

I wouldn't look so hypocritical if everyone else wrote this type of crap, every day.