Basically, this is me going off about whatever I fancy. I originally started typing in an attempt to write a story, but it all came out as follows. And actually, it's subject to change as I plan to continue working on it.
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I’ve got this insane urge to write. It’d be friggin’ amazing if, for once, when I felt like this, if I knew what to write. I hate feeling like this. All I want to do is put pen to paper and let the ink flow. But can it ever be that easy? Of course not! God forbid anything be simple! I suppose it makes sense, though, because life in general isn’t exactly simple. But still. Why can’t it be? Maybe I can write a story line for my little green army men. I bought a fifty-pack at Target the last time I was home. They were only a dollar, so why not? I think they’ll be arranged on my shelf, the one above my dresser. It’s reasonably empty now. Well, it’s only empty because I thought about putting them there. But actually arranging them is proving to be a pain in the ass! There’s about ten guys shooting bazookas, and that’s eight too many. There’s an overabundance of guys talking to each other on walkie talkies, and only one guy hailing another with binoculars. One guy is lunging, some are shooting, two or three are chucking grenades. Now let’s be honest. If our military operated like that, it would fail. Oh wait. It does. Never mind. Ever wanted to live in a movie? I have. In just about every movie I’ve ever seen. But as of right now, mostly Back to the Future, any part. I think it’d be fun to be like “kid sidekick” to any of the characters in any movie. I mean, how different would Back to the Future (the original) have turned out if Marty had had a sidekick his age from his time? What would have occurred? Perhaps I should think on this some more and write it. Or in part three, how would it change? Add to the mix that the sidekick would have been a tomboy. In all the parts this would have been interesting. She’d be expected to wear a dress or skirt in the fifties, and a long dress in 1885. That would kill me! I’d rather run around in jeans and a leather jacket, or a suit and hat. Women have always been gyped out of cool outfits in history. Even now I wonder about them. I also wonder why guys who dress as girls are called transvestites, but girls who dress like guys are just normal? Why can’t guys dress like girls if they want? Is it that whole macho thing? If so, that’s pretty lame. Guys need to get the hell over themselves and be who they are, never mind what other guys think. Guys are always going on about how they don’t understand why girls can be such bitches, but in reality they’re the same way! They’re such hypocrites. Speaking of guys and girls, what is love? No, really. What is it? Why do we feel the way we do? How can we feel such an attraction to people we’ve never seen before? Even people we don’t think we have anything in common with, how do we grow to love them? I genuinely want to know. I know that physically it’s to do with hormones, but what about mentally, emotionally? Is it true that if we become attached to someone sexually, we somehow build up in our minds that they’re the only one for us and no one else will do? How can we be that restrictive? I truly don’t understand. Going back to the movie thing, how fun would it be to live in a video game? Maybe not “fun” for such games as Halo or the arcade games of James Bond, but how thoroughly amusing would that be? Run around shooting people and grappling…or what about Zelda? That would be incredible, especially Twilight Princess, run around, then change into a wolf, use your cohort’s hair to dispatch an enemy, or ride a horse through the fields of Hyrule and take enemies out even as you run away. How cool would that be? Speaking of video games though, it is such a pain in the ass to watch someone who’s playing for the first time. They look around randomly, and someone who’s seasoned in the game watches, completely bewildered. Or they just stand there, don’t zoom in or anything, and you want to yell “Move already! Standing there does no good! What the hell are you waiting for!?” It’s rather annoying. I drew a superhero a few weeks ago. I think I drew a variant of him back when I first started drawing these guys. All I know for sure is that I called a lot of them “Spike.” I need some new names I reckon. And I wish I could remember how we drew the hands, because those hands are very sorry looking. I think maybe we just drew simple boxes as fists. I don’t remember. As for the boots, I know I drew boots like that before. I also wish I could remember how we did the mouths. Maybe they were just straight lines? I might have to ask Jeff, because I simply can’t remember. Maybe I should get my memory checked, because it’s pretty bad. Considering how bad my memory is, it’s amazing that I have déjà vu so much. I love Japan. It’s that simple. I love learning the language and learning about the culture. I want to go to Japan for at least a semester, if not more. I’m studying it with Mary, she’s in my class. But I get the distinct feeling that she’ll end up doing better on tests, she’ll get the hang of it sooner, she’ll remember all the hiragana and katakana no matter what, she’ll correct me on grammar and vocabulary, she’ll somehow get the money to go before me. I’ve got this giant passion about it but I feel like I’ll never get to do anything with it while she goes off and manages to make a career of it or something. It seems to me that if it hadn’t been for me, she wouldn’t have gotten into manga or Japanese culture or anything, and yet here she is probably getting ahead of me. It’s like that with My Chemical Romance too. She’d heard them before I got her obsessed, sure. But then I came along and she basically can’t get them out of her mind. I told her that Gerard was married and she almost burst out crying. Good Lord woman, you really expected to meet him and he’d fall madly in love with you? Are you insane? Because I think you are! Besides, I saw him first! I’m very possessive. And if anyone – anyone, even my best friend – gets in the way of that…it’s not especially pretty. I hate myself for it, but still…it all pisses me off. Why can’t I get any of this shit for once? I always feel like I’m being gyped out of everything I want to do. I hate that feeling, it’ll really make a person bitter. As childish as it likely sounds, it makes me want to just give up and cry. I don’t know what else to do about it except blog and write. It basically sucks. I need to stop before I really do start crying. I thought about it again last night. We were talking about South Dakota, and Mary really wanted to go out there if she ever got the chance. And immediately I didn’t want her to go. I mean, I thought it’d be great if we all went, but can’t I, for once, go somewhere or do something that only I have done in my circle of friends? Why does everything have to be a shared experience? I want something to just be mine, I want my South Dakota vacation to just be mine and mine alone. I know it’s selfish, but if we all do the same thing we won’t have anything to talk about, and I won’t have any reason to feel special. I’ve never really felt “special,” like different. I want that for once. I don’t want to simply be different. I want to actually feel that. Urgh. Life is so frustrating. Well this sucks. I’m importing CDs into my comp, and one of them is a volume of Beach Boys hits. Well, me being me, I started playing “God Only Knows” because it makes me think of loveactually. Apparently it makes me think of something else too, because for the first time through the song, I felt like I was having a panic attack. How lame is that? I don’t know why, just that Brandon, came to mind, and then the panic attackness came on. What could that possibly mean…? Hopefully nothing bad. Perhaps that I ‘m just excited (more than is necessary) to see him in a bit, when he comes to get me for Frisbee? I don’t know. But why would “God Only Knows” bring him to mind? Man I piss me off. On an unrelated topic, this, when posted, will probably be the most ADD blog I’ll have posted ever in life. And I’ve posted some ADD shit in my time. Ah well. ‘Tis the beauty of me. Ok, perhaps it’s not beauty, but you get my drift.
