Holy Heaven.

I am so busy. SO BUSY.

I'm taking real-estate classes... in less than a month, I'll be a lisensed agent. Financially, this is a very wise decision, as my original school plans are now all foiled--- before I can even send my transcript, I owe the damn school 8,000 dollars. So, for now, it seems I'm going to just stay home for a while, selling houses, working off the debt whose blame I give to love...

Which brings me to some answers. JIN: You're just awesome, let me say. But what I really mean to say, is that #1, 'Sheetz' is a large, red convenience store/gas station, popular for having the cheapest gas prices, (I'm speaking very relatively with 'cheaper', btw). Also, #2, that particular resturaunt carries a lot of...history... for me. I'm not sure if I ever mentioned it's owned by the mother of Adelia. For info on her, see the dark bundle of posts from my blog's get-go. #3... not a question. So, no answer. :-p.

Anyway, when not at class or bussing at the restaurant (yeah, haven't pulled out totally), I'm at the Williams. The other night, they got me from work, we chased away some make-outers on the end of their eternal driveway by getting a car each and slowly approaching, abreast, with our high beams blaring. Had to scare the poop out of them... which would be very embarressing when in their postition, so to speak. We go to Waffle House, get some...yeah, waffles.... and then go home. It's like, 1:30 now, they all go to bed, while I stay up all night, editting the footage I mentioned in the last post (the all dark, arsty, pool-table ones) and make a segment of which I am rather pleased.

Wish I could show it to you.

It gave me an idea for another film, which I'm currently drafting into a screenplay, playing off the idea of an all dark world. In fact, the piece I pulled together that night is actually going to serve as the teaser trailer. Besides that, I'm trying to pen a draft of the topper of our summer project ideas--- A version of Pride and Prejudice that the male world can actually watch. It's gotta be a comedy, and it's gotta moch the hell out of the original, and will most certainly take referrences from an ocean of films, most notably, Monte Python's.

Anyway, I only got three hours of sleep the next morning, before we got up at 10, and went golfing, before meeting a few others for Pizza. It is my personal opinion that T's girlfriend is gorgeous. She's so...energetic. It's refreshing. Anyway, afterwards, I rod with J in his one-of-a-kind orange and blue Mini Cooper convertable to our next stop: the 'ministry.' They all kept referring to it, I had no idea what they meant. As it turns out, it's a community for mentally disabled and elderly--- like not, 'insane,' just... one egg short of an easter basket. Anyway, I got with Mrs. Norman, to help a great guy named Guy. So, he's very nice, but he's having severe pains... he asks us to call his chiropractor... he recommends we call his doctor.... who recommends we call 911. So, my first day on the job, my patient is wisked away in an ambulance.

He was nice though.

Anyway, I'll be doing that more consistently, every thursday afternoon or so. So, afterwards, we play more golf (by the way, I suck severely). Also, this golf was the tame mini-golf and driving range golf.

I also have alot of very wealthy friends. Actually, to be honest, in rhetrospect, I don't think I've ever made a friend with anyone who wasn't wealthy. This isn't on purpose, I'd like to make clear. Not at all. I mean, they're not the type that 'seem' rich... like, those rude Abercrombie preppy-types. I mean, not to sterotype, as I actually like Abercrombie clothes sometimes, but yeah.... you know who I mean.

Issues I meant to address in the last post but didn't:

So, I've discovered I'm sunchild. I think that's the term. You know, the sort that's onyly happy when the sun's out, and it's a beautiful day, and all but hybernates in the winter. I'm sure most of us are that way.... but it makes me wonder... why the hell am I living here, where I only feel my best 1/4th of the year...?

I should move.

Also, weed. Yes, weed. 'Recreatonal hippie stuff.' It is my opinion that it is a plant, and thus, couldn't possibly be considered a 'drug,' on any level with real inhibitors like crack, heroine, the like.

Yeah, I have pot-loads to say on the subject, but that's the next time.

Now, it's late, and I CANNOT go a third night on....

zzz...

....
only .....four.....

zzz

...four hours...

of...

of...

of zzzz's....

zzzzzz...
zzzz...
....
...

Lest we bare time we lost

It's a rainy day.


I don't have to work till 4, so I have few moments to catch up.
...
The Aftermath Elegy

So, last week, I cut off saying J and I were to fight---fight club, friendly competition style. But it never went down, exactly. I mean, that's cool. The remainder of that week was essentially dull: the very next night, I got a bottle of red wine, and a bottle of rum, intending to drink it with W and J, you know, to help convince us to follow through with the fight... or.... I dunno... whatever reasons people drink for.

However, that night, we made grilled cheese and tomatoe soup, which was good at first. I also introduced them to butter-and-scallion sandwichs. Also good at first. So, I continuously down glass after glass of wine--- alone, as it would turn out. I finish off half the bottle (which, I might add, is about twice the normal size of a stardard bottle), which I top off with about two shots of rum. I guess I didn't notice I was the only one. ANYWAY, at somepoint, B puts on Narnia (he's the nerdy Christian lego-liking musical-star that enjoys D&D and Star Wars and plays soccer--- a stereotype mut, so to speak), while J and I do some 'hippie stuff,' which is where I begin to feel rather... weird. The movie (which I've seen before and will state my opinion of in a moment,) ceased to make sense. Then my stomach ceased to make sense, if you can understand what sort of sensation that is. More, it seemed to not understand its contents, and began agressively demanding an evacuation--- so, I'm high and drunk and soooo dizzy, I rush to bathroom, wondering what there was to do in the bathroom when I wasn't throwing up.

Anyway, I spent the rest of the night there, spewing out my insides for all the world to see. Luckily, the world would have to look in the sink, since I at least made it that far. My hang-over the next day was horrible, and I suddenly remembered why I left that horrible town--- that sort of stuff is all I ever seemed to end up doing.

The rest of the week was much tamer, as far as my stomach was concerned. I never drank again, though I made a tiny bit more further use of the "hippie stuff" recreational herb. As I had nothing much to do, T paid me to write some dull 14-page paper, which was no sweat for me. Otherwise, nothing. I went home on the train after my four-day visit to a place I am never, never, never going back to again. That's way out of my system now.

Next time, they visit me.

...
From the Land of Spare Oom.

So, as for The Chronicals of Narnia, as a film, I found it rather good, very true to the books, which are my all-time favorite thing to read ever. C.S. Lewis is my favorite author. Now, I'm a rathe avid reader, and have gone through quite a plethora of literary content in my day, but somehow the Chronicals charm me every time. They're just so good.

The film, as I said, was well done, albeit, it certainly borrowed from its contempories---LOTR, and Harry Potter. The battles, then, gave the film a feel of cross-breed; it really was Harry Potter meets Lord of the Rings. I found it slighly... uninteresting... no, 'unfresh,' as a series of BBC films followed the books with virtually idential devotion to content. Thus, it felt redundant, if not shinier, bigger, more expensive.

...
Business, Usually.

So, I came home, went to work for six days in a row, finishing off that week and beginning this one, which is, I might add, my final week.

In fact, tonight is my final night in the kitchen. I may pick up a few front house shifts, but for the most part, I'm done working at that restuarant.

What now? Besides my ever aspiring writing career that just hasn't found some legs yet, I'm going to become a real-estate agent. Yup, that's right. Real estate. Now, in order to do it, I need to take two classes, a test, memorize a whole lot of info, and then I get a lisense. THEN... well, I dunno exactly, but as fate would have it, I think there's an answer:

The last two days I was hanging out at the William's. That is, three brothers who I've been very, very good friends with since fifth grade. Anyway, first day, we just kind of hang out, play with their incredible variety of video game/gadgets, watch Lost, (they lent me season one to catch up, as I've never really watched the show before), and over all have a relaxing time. It was a beautiful day(Which reminds me, I have something to note about that in a minute,)---earlier, I went to Kung Fu, and then bought a new phone (!!! --- the LG VX-9800, because it's just so awesome. I also got a bluetooth headset to go with it, but it's not working... I need to return the headset. But the phone is frickin' hardcore awesome.)

So, I go home the next day, for a Kung Fu lesson, and then my Mom offers a ride back to the William's, as both her work and their house is in the same direction. So, she takes me, but then decides, right where she would turn to take me to their place that she can't make it to work on time, (even though she called in, saying she'd be a few moments late due to the bad traffic that day, anyway), and says I've got to go with her, or something. At that point, the suggestion was absurd, so I ask her to just stop, and let me walk. So, I begin walking, and immedaitely, someone beeps, and pulls around, and stops by me. It's Tonya, a waitress I work with, on her way to tan. So, she gives me a ride most of the way from there, I thank her, and walk the rest of the way, till I get to the Williams eternal driveway, when Tom arrives, and is like, "Hi?" I don't really explain to indepth, I hate explainations; instead I climb on the roof, and ride the rest of the way there.

SO, before I go on, as this tangent is getting long, the Williams have a friend, Jerry, whose mother just happens to be the top-grossing real-estate-agent in the state. She's in the Real Estate Hall-Of-Fame. Seriously. So, I, through the Willaims, have gotten to be good friends with Jerry, and have met his mother several times... SO, this is an extremely valuable contact, as she is the best.

Anyway, back to the day. So, at Williams we decide to have an old school Halo LAN party, have a few other assortied who'sits over, and proceed to kill each other virtually. So, eventually, that gets old, and the decision is made to make a film. Well... more, PJ wanted to, and I happen to be really into that sort of thing. So, we eventually get some stuff set up, I get some AWESOME, very artsy shots of a billiard balls breaking, and then somehow we get sidetracked, (Alan made the suggestion) to go Sheetz, dressed up in a rediculious barrage of costumes, which we'd film. So, we do this. We all pile in a van, the filming turns out pretty awesome. I dress like a contractor or something, and have a carpenters belt, in which I hide the camera (apparently, you're not allowed to film in Sheetz or banks), do a bunch of nothing stuff that looked hilarious, then decide to go to another sheetz.

So, then we go home, pleasantly happy with the crazy idea and the strange stares (though we got less of a reaction than I would have hoped... I guess this happens all the time at Sheetz?).

So, we go, back the rest of them collapse and sleep, while PJ, Jerry, Zed and I finish the movie we tried to make ealier. We do so, until 4 in the morning. It turns out nicely, some nice effects avaiable when it's pitch black, and all you can see is what you shine light on... I got some very arsty stuff. I love directing. Editing, too. Filming, camera work. All that, I love it. I'm going to do it someday. I really am.


...
ENDTHOUGHT.


Anyway, that's that. Today's the next day, I go to work soon, now.

I have several other thigns to so, I think, but not now. Another post.... whnever that'll be.

OH, one more thing. For the TO-DO, I've managed to choose an insurance building. Also, the costumes gave me an idea... I'll go with Bond idea... more to come on that.

Later tonight, I intend read some other poeple's blogs.

ADIOS.

Hmm.

Whelp.

Clearly, I'm not good at keeping up with this blog stuff. I get so busy, it's tough to find time to write anything, let alone my blog. And when I sit down to write, I like to do it for hours, deep into the uncanny morning.

As for my last entry, there was no fight, and (Jin,) I'm not from the UK----though, I commonly wonder if perhaps I was meant to be, but the stork got lost. That'd explain why things often feel so 'off.'

Anyway, that's another entry, when I have less than five minutes before I need to run off to work. Yeah. Work's another story.

This is my last week there.

*sighs* Now I'm late. Later!

Burgers.

So, I'm in Greensburg.

I took the train last Monday, which left at 1:40 and arrived at 7:00. Long. Train travel is not fast. It is, however, very relaxing. Before catching the train I barely made, I stopped in the bookstore to pick up a copy of "Catcher in the Rye," since I've never read it. It was on my to-do list. Anyway, I got about 75 percent through it.

The trip was grey and cold; it began pouring freezing rain. Something profound about a cup of coffee, a book, and a half-empty train, while the heavens cry. It rained worse when we passed through Johnstown, which is the most depressing city I've ever been to in my life. A year ago, my ex and I found ourselves exporling the city during a similarily rainy, cold day. We had just escaped a cop who caught us speeding on the turnpike---we took a quick exit, and disappeared into the crowds of cars exiting the road, and decided to continue that way, until we found ourselves at Johnstown. Boring, cold, dying, wet, the town was a corpse, buried at the absolute bottom of a valley. I have never seen the city when it wasn't raining. Never. Even when I was very young, homeschooled, when we took a four-day vacation/field trip to Johnstown. It rained every day we were there.

I was thoroughly depressed by this point, when the sun snuck in for just a moment. I noticed that only the very nicest of places look good in the rain; everything else becomes miserable. But when the sun shines like it does in the deepest point of the afternoon of a blue-skied day, then everything, no matter how desolate or decayed it is, looks... good. Not good... comfortable.

I mention decay because countless homes I passed on our way to the city were the tiny-town, middle-of-no-where hillbilly homes with like, ten cars in the parking lot, none of which look to have ever actually worked. The houses have backyards filled with random piles of mutated merry-go-rounds, rocking horses, and giant undefinable pieces of plywood and metal. All of these houses look like they might have looked nice, once, a long time ago. But instead, it's all decaying and dead. I simply cannot imagine what sort of people live in them, why they live there, or what they do inside when no one's looking.

The sun lasted just five minutes. Greensburg is almost as depressing as Johnstown. I returned to reading.

On the train, is an always interesting variety of passangers. In my car was a loud black woman that announced at the top of her lungs to everyone when she was going to the bathroom, and, when there, for 'none o' ya'lls open this door while I'm here!" In the cafe-car, there was an artist, drawing some very complicated pieces with a ruler. I wanted to talk to him, but he was absorbed in his work, and his iPod.

Speaking of which, everyone on the train has the nicest technology imaginable. Like, the absolute best laptops ever. I mean, everyone had them. I was the only one without one. Even the loud black woman had one. Hmm. To-do: Get a laptop.

So, I arrive in Greensburg, where T. is waiting to pick me up with his "ruby in the rough"; that is, a Geo Prism. Apparently, three dudes came out, and surrounded his car while he waiting for my train to show up. Then they left. I dunno. They came, and surrounded his car, and left. I have no idea what to say about that.

Anyway, we go pick up a pizza. 6.99 for a large one-topping Mondays at the Pizza Hut right next to the apartment. Eat that. Drink liquid ambrosia, (which is also called Mountain Dew).

So, J.'s already at the apartment. W. comes over: Now there's four of us. We don't do much right away, just shoot the air, and terrorists on J.'s PS2, in 'Black.' There is a case of Lager in the fridge, which we wisely decide is not enough. So, we're thinking liquer, and I suggest a place across the street--it's closed at 7, we're 20 minutes late. So, we decide to get some '40's, and do so, then go back to apartment, down them.

So, T. basically hates J., which is a sourse of tension. W. doesn't normally, but he's Irish. By that, I mean he likes to fight when angry, and gets angry when drunk. Well, not always, but this time he did. So, we're sitting there, finishing our 40's, and I happen to enjoy a cigarette while I drink---they just go together. I mean, I'm a very light smoker, (a pack a month, at most) but at that moment, I just really wanted a cigarette. They're game, so we try to figure out who should drive, but we're all drunk. So, T., who hadn't had anything to drink, says he'll do it. So, he drives us.

I buy Newports, which pisses W. off for some reason. So, he's angry, walking ahead of us. Anyway, J. says to me, kinda quietly, "Why's he so pissed over cigarette's?"

W. whirls around, takes off his coat, and says, "Say something about me one more time." Again, louder. "Say something about me one more time!"

They get close, W. pushes J.. J. returns with a left hook. They begin to brawl. I instantly think, damn it, we're drunk, this is bad. Trouble. T, watching from a bit away, is told that someone called the cops. Anyway, I try to break them up, until the fight naturally ends. T. drives W back, while I walk back with J. We smoke.

So, in like five minutes they make up, no hard feelings, nothing personal, just an excuse to fight. Everyone's loose, no more tension, and the decision is made to do it again.

Tonight, I fight J. (Details to follow.)

Also, I've said nothing about today. It's in my next post.

The Elementary Syndrome.

The Elementary Syndrome.
Intro.

So, I was thinking last night, as I lulled to sleep on a tiny love-seat, my buzz slowly exchanging itself for nightly oblivion, I was wondering about cigarettes. I was imagining returning to my old campus for a day, where I'd probably hang out with everyone outside of Powers Hall, where everyone smokes. I mean it. EVERYONE.

This got me to wondering, how many of those kids smoked before going to school? Certainly not in high school. I mean, a few, but only the stoners, with girls that wore pants so huge and long and dirty, and guys that wore girl's pants with a purple mohawk. The point is, the minority.

And then, I got to thinking of it in reverse. High schoolers smoke the least, college students the most, and then adults the.... huh... Some adults smoke alot. Some don't. Some quit, some are quitting, some are addicted... it's tough to say. Now, in retrospect, I realize it's tough to generalize everyone into one big 'adults' category. But, at the time, it led to another idea:

Once you get out of school, get into the mundane repetition of work-work-work everyday, at the same place, for a 9-5 job, years can go by without anything really changing.

Like, you can say, 'most adults do not smoke' or whatever, but when speak about kids, it's often times done in many, very short stages. When you're seven to when you're eight, is vastly different, whereas twenty seven to twenty eight is less so vast. I mean, for the twenty seven year old, major things can happen, but it's generally just basic modifications to the normal. But when you turn eight, or nine, or whatever, up until somewhere around middle school, (fading more and more every year, it seems) your whole world, like, completely changes every single different year. You change grades, you out grow nearly all of your clothes, you learn completely different things, you gain access to a completely different portion of your world---it's like you're living a completely different life than the year before. It's exciting!

This is where I considered the Elementary Sydrome. That is, keeping this incredible, vibrant, active and eventful lifestyle is a good thing, that should not be traded for the mundane, however comfortable it may be. Before we're born, we culminate in warm comfort, and then spend a great deal of the rest of our life seeking comfort---but nothing good comes from it! I mean, yes, it's nice, and alright, but were you comfortable the first time you tried to ride a bike? Or right before your first kiss? Or right before you did anything major, important, life-improving? It's not usually 'comfortable' to write papers, go to school, make phone calls, get a job, actually work at that job, fall in love, do anyting really.

THUS, what I call the Elementary Syndrome is keeping that lifestyle in elementary school.

Yeah. It's why I came up with the to-do list, I've decided. Part of the reason, at least.

I've thought of other things, too... I'll write those later today. But this is good for one post, I think.

In case you wondered...

You scored as Hot. You are Hot, you scream and are wild, people love doing anything sexual with you. Hot 75% Soft 56% Exciting 56% Sweet 50% Shy 44% Wet 44% Awkward 25% Violent 25% What is your sexual style? created with QuizFarm.com