Without Further Adieu...

New Blog! Because this one just isn't me anymore. Let's all wave goodbye.

Alright, I'm taking a vote...

Which is probably a silly thing to do now because for a whole month the top post has said that I'm not posting anymore and it's probable that no one comes here anymore. But, I'm gonna do it anyway.

I've been thinking about this blogging thing. I've decided it's not the case that I don't want to do it anymore. But it is still the case that I don't like blogging for the reasons specified in the previous post. So, if I were to begin blogging again, the blog would consist (as much as I can help it) only of the things under the Good heading. It probably won't be limited to that list of things but it would definitely NOT include anything under the Bad heading.

So, here's the deal: if you happen to be one of the tenacious internet travelers who still drop by here every once in a while to see if anything's changed and you want to vote yay or nay for me to start a new blog, please do so. Also, oh weary traveler, you may tell others to come by and do the same, if you see fit. Thank you all for your time. That is all.

A Failed Experiment

I regret to inform all of you that I am closing this blog. I have come to this decision after having reviewed the archived posts from beginning to end and comparing them to what my goals for this blog were. The two don’t really match up well. My original intentions, in a nut shell, were (a) for it to help foster my motivation to write- it didn’t do that at all, and (b) to be a sort of diary for me. It both succeeded and failed at that in different ways in which I’ll explain. In a diary, a true diary, a person is supposed to write down all the contents of their mind without worry of judgment. With a blog sometimes that’s possible and sometimes it’s not. It’s easy enough to write your daily or weekly routine or goings on, but I’ve realized that I enjoy writing down that stuff as much as I enjoy reading it, which is part of the reason a lot of time passes between some of my posts. But there’s another aspect of the diary that one must account for; when you're writing down your deepest feelings about a person, your mother, your lover, someone you secretly admire, or your hated enemy, you don't really have to worry about someone coming across your words. In a blog, however, you have to pick and choose whom you talk about and how depending upon the status of their access to your blog. So, to that end, I guess I've found that I’m not really a diary person. Not an online one anyway.

If you can stomach to look through the archives of this blog, you will see that it roughly breaks down like thus:

BAD
~31% Self-loathing and inane cynicism- This just looks like attention begging and pity groveling. I don’t really believe I’m an attention begger but nevertheless, it looks like it and smells like it.
~15% Boring personal updates and news about routine

OKAY
~10% Random silliness

GOOD
~14% Occasional interesting musings about news and tibits
~13% Philosophical musings/discussions/ramblings
~10% My writings

That other seven percent doesn’t exist, I guess. I’ll just let you figure that out on your own. Or you can adjust the figures above to fit better. Whichever floats your boat. The point is there’s a lot of stuff in there I’m not particularly fond of. On very few occasions posts have caused such problems that I removed them completely. One of those occasions happened very recently. With them I fear I may have irreparably altered two, possibly three friendships. Some see what I write purely as an attempt to hurt them. It’s not true. I only write the things I do in an attempt to express how I feel and possibly affect some kind of positive change. No matter how I intend it, the outcome is nearly always the same; it doesn’t work and people end up with hurt feelings. So, I’m through trying to make things better- via blogging anyway.

A condition that sometimes coincides with events like that; If I’m drunk and with people, I’m happy and jovial. But when I’m drunk and by myself- luckily, 98% of the time that’s NOT the case-, I’m morose and profound and that’s when I get on the internet and write things. Bad things have not always come from that, but good things never have. So, a goal from now on is to stay away from the key board after I’ve been drinking. It’ll probably keep everybody happy, especially those who like proper grammar, spelling, and syntax.

In closing, I’m calling this blog a failed experiment in that it didn’t achieve the goals I had set for it and it has served to make some people unhappy. Sorry, folks. I don’t know what else to say.

Neglect of the Craft

Sorry kids, for a wannabe writer, I sure don't have much to say lately. So, here's a story about a puppy.

The Hopeless Endeavor
Buddy awoke with a start. His ears perked up and he turned his head back and forth like the mighty fuzzy radar dome that it was. There it was again. A creak. A squeak. It came from the bed up stairs. He was sure of it.
Buddy leaped to his tiny brown and white feet and scampered to the foot of the stairs and looked up. The distance to the top was as daunting as ever.
“Arf,” he said. It was a very tiny and high pitched sound because Buddy was just a little puppy. He was only ten weeks old which really isn’t a very long time to take in the world.
“It’s going to be fine,” said Felix, the cat perched very daintily up on the banister. His face was sly and his tail ticked back and forth like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. He looked down on the young puppy with an eyebrow raised so that he appeared very wise.
“Arf arf,” said Buddy. His tongue was falling out of his mouth in an inquisitive manner.
“Just like yesterday, and the day before, he’s going to get up and go to work,” said Felix. “It’ll be the same routine forever, kid. You might as well get use to it.” But he could see that the puppy just didn’t get it. Buddy began mounting the stairs one by one. They were tall enough that he had to stand as high as he could and kick and kick to climb each one. It’s been the same thing every morning since Buddy came to stay here.
Buddy reached the top of the stairs and bounded full speed into the bedroom, little yip-yips coming from his tiny snout. He took a flying leap onto the pile of clothes, jumped from there to the large chest at the end of the bed and on up to the covers. Before his owner’s eyes were even open he was licking his face and nibbling on his ears. The man shook his face around and made the sounds people make when they are awakened by slobbery little tongues.
“Huh, heh, quit it, dog.”
Dogs think of all things as indefinite. If you start to scratch a dog on the belly, he has no reason to believe that you’ll ever stop. Which is why he acts so aghast if you do. It’s also why they act like they do when you leave. They don’t believe that you’ll ever return. No matter how long you’re gone, even if you forget your keys and have to come back inside, they go nuts upon seeing you again.
This time Bubby was determined. He wasn’t going to let his owner leave. The man pushed the little ball of fur over onto his back, but buddy was up just as quickly and back at it. Felix sat just outside the doorway and watch, amused, as the owner picked up the puppy and put him on the floor. There, Buddy proceeded to run around and around in a little circle yipping until he lost footing and fell over. The man got out of bed, stepped over the puppy and walked passed the cat and into the hallway. Buddy ran after and was just barely too late to get his head into the bathroom door before it closed. He stood on the dark wood floor boards and growled at the crack in the door. The cat slinked up behind and sat down.
“Why must you do this every morning?” he meowed moodily. A few minutes later the tall human came out of the bathroom and strolled back into his bedroom. Buddy ran in and grabbed a sock before his owner got the other on his foot and ran under the bed.
“Buddy…” he groaned. He reached under the bed and pulled the sock out, puppy and all. “Felix, can’t you mind him for just a few minutes?”
“Meow,” said the cat.
“Arf,” said the puppy.
After a few more minutes Buddy’s owner was dressed and ready to go. “It’s all right, Buddy. I’ll be back this afternoon.” The puppy defiantly grabbed the edge of a towel between his tiny jaws and in one final attempt to thwart his owner’s leaving, gave it a mighty shake.
“Okay, Buddy, I’ll see you later,” his owner said. And before Buddy even knew what happened, the man was down the stairs and out the door.

All the King's Horses and All the King's Men

Well, folks are bugging...er...urging me to post, so I suppose I will. It's been a pretty exciting year so far and it's only the what-ever-the-hell-day-it-is of January. I'm gonna guess it's somewhere between the 17th (the first day of school) and the 31st because nobody has said anything about it being February yet. Although who would? February is a crap month anyway. I can't think of one significant thing that goes on in that month other than a few friends' birthdays. Nobody respects that first "r" either. Screw you Febuary. Two "r"s my ass. You don't deserve two "r"s.
Anyway, back to exciting things. Road trip was fun only because it was fraught with anarchy and chaos tossed in at every available moment. Also, I left my beanie at Mount Rushmore. But the most exciting thing of all; I realize that this is just the run of the mill thing for all you other kids with you being the crazy school savvy, homework doing, class attending fools that you are, but I it made it onto the honor roll this last semester! If any of you even think that you know me, you know that's the craziest shit on Earth! Who the hell would put me on the honor roll? I've done that one other time in my entire school career and that was some random quarter in middle school like eight years ago. That's spitting distance from a decade. So I've advice for any of you crazy book monkeys who are worrying and stressing because you're just now getting your first B's and C's of your whole life and think that maybe you're slipping, just let your shiny little asses get kicked out of school for a semester for "academic misconduct". That'll turn your shit around lickity-split. I'm not talking about Richard "I flick boogers in my Honors colloquium" Greene here. Deals with the Devil just aren't fair. Just to be entirely clear, I most definitely AM suggesting that you make wagers with the Dark Prince of the Underworld for your sparkly grades.
So, anyway, here in a few days time, I'm going to apply to the University of Oklahoma for, I'm not sure, I think it's the fourth time. Maybe they'll accept me this time...again, you know, for the second time. I'll be taking my second tour in 'Nam, only this time I won't get shot in the face and sent home early. This time I'll stay until either we win the war or we get "pulled out". I'm not saying I was shot in the face on OU campus. It was just an analogy you jerk. You don't take analogies literally. Unless, of course, you are comparing one thing to another for emphasis of some moral trait or something, like if I said that you getting an abortion is kinda like what Hitler did to the Jews during the Holocaust. No, I'm not implying that that is my actual opinion. That was yet another analogy. You see, an analogy about an analogy. More specifically, an analogy about a simile, whereas the first one about 'Nam was more like an allegory. Jeez, you people take me entirely too seriously. You must realize that my life is an analogy, which, perhaps ironic to some, is a metaphor. This, although a bit digressive, clearly illustrates the point that I'm going back to OU with the intention of staying until I graduate.
Picture Time

The old me:















New me:




If this is new to you, then you haven't been spending enough time with me lately. If this surprises you, then you haven't known me for more than a few years.

Eleven States Down, Thirty-nine to Go.

I am, myself, discovered.

It's sleepy time now.

Shiny Times Ahead

Well folks, in case it hasn't gotten around yet, I put in my two week notice a couple of days ago. That's right, at the very end of this very year I will nolonger be a Wal*mart associate, which really is a good thing because none of my word processors, IM chat clients, or even blogger think it's a real word, and I'm tired of hitting the "ignore once" button every time I run a spell check. I never trusted words with asterisks in them anyway.

As for the question of what I'm going to do instead; I'm not entirely sure. But, I kinda like it that way. I've been growing extremely bored with this whole rigid "I know exactly what comes next" life structure I've had going for the last six months or so. Screw that, I welcome the spontaneity. Just like I welcome homogeneity...in my milk. I just think that's a cool word. The point is, I want more random fun in my life. Just to throw me for a loop and show me that life still has its surprises, the day I turned in my two week warning, my rear top left molar decided to break. It's got a nice hole on the inside wall now. How about them apples?
Yeah, yeah, I've got enough money to pay rent for a few months. I'll get a job if a fun one presents itself, but I will probably stay unemployed until summer time comes around. Believe it or not, the decision to quit was mostly scholastically motivated. I did well this semester, but I could have done better.

Anyway, in the next few days after I quit, I'm going to disappear for a while. Go find myself or some sappy shit like that. Whatever, I just gotta get away. It's absolutely nothing personal against anybody else, only to myself. I'm turning off my cell phone for the duration. Although, I shall check my messages every once in a while and will respond to emergencies. Well, enough about that.

I'm not sure if Richard really understands how lucky he really is to have a roommate with my particular condition. He gets to experience wonderful things like finding my xbox live headset laying all by its lonesome on the bathroom counter, or the TV remote on the kitchen counter. The remote in the kitchen is relatively easy to explain, but there's not a soul in the world whom I could make understand exactly why I had the headset in the bathroom. It makes perfect sense to me, but all reason is lost on others.