there must be more to my life"
Great song. Great metaphor. In case you don't get it (which I wouldn't be surprised: it took me a few glances to get it), Boiled Frogs is a play on humanity. You wanna boil a frog, then you do it gradually and slowly let it die, and only if you put them in water that is already boiling hot will they try to escape. Sorta like...instead of burying yourself slowly, make an effort to get out of the situation before it becomes a necessity.
I've got a new song in the works, and I am really excited about it. I might post it. Not sure. It's called Capone Doesn't Have Anything On Me, and it's pretty cool. Mob references. They work very well in the situation.
This is actually going to be a short post. I am watching a movie of a book I'm reading called The Boy In Striped Pajamas. I'll do a review of it tomorrow.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
"I hope you had the time
of your life"
I'm not putting the song up here. You know it. I know it. Only more sad smiles of acceptance will come of it.
I was driving back home from Jamba Juice when it happened. We have satellite radio in the car, so there are hundreds of channels of specific genres of music. The station I always listen to is grunge and 90's rock. I was just a street or so away from home when Good Riddance came on, and I felt like dropping my mom and sister off and going to an empty space to just cry. I haven't listened to that song all the way through since I sang it at our 8th grade promotion ceremony. That moment suddenly was all that my mind was focused on.
It really got me thinking. Where would I be without what I learned in 8th grade? I looked down at my seat and said in my head, "You could very well not be where you are at this second without it". It was huge. All of my Mr. Reed moments came to mind and the moments when my squad finally had realized we aren't all that different. It was literally overwhelming. I realized that I have impacted so many peoples lives. There are of course my peers who have never let me forget how I affected them, but then I remembered I was a counselor. All the kids in my squads really wanted to learn from me. They all wanted to hear what I had to say and how I wasn't much different from them. Although only one of the two squads I watched over really got the lesson, both really grew. The first time I went up (the weekend of my birthday), we had done the diversity walk, where everyone stands in a large circle and someone reads off a list, and if you identify with what the speaker said, you walk to the middle of the circle, face the people beside you, then face the outside, then walk back. I remember at the beginning when all of the kids were laughing and kidding around and doing what they normally would...but by the end of it...there wasn't any of that. I remember one of the kids in my squad specifically. He seemed like the kids that was in school to make the others smile, as if he never had a wrong to frown about. He was extremely short and an overall good kid. When his squad mates saw him crying, they knew that there was something more serious to worry about. All of those kids looked up to me to show them that lesson-the brutally honest lesson that we are not to be segregated and put down. All of the kids seemed to look up to me. They felt so comfortable with me that when they found out it was my birthday, all of them started to crowd around me in the dining hall singing happy birthday, then all tackled me. I mean everyone. Kids I didn't get the chance to talk to were taking their time to show me that they cared.
The second time I went, the squad got it. I know they did. Our first discussion was so intricate that we were late to dinner because of our sharing. Those kids were great. They were all so eager to hear my stories and for me to listen to theirs and know that I was listening seemed like a god send for them. They all welcomed me and the other counselor like a part of their squad. We even had two teachers come by to our discussions because they heard that ours got so deep and intimate that they wanted to see and share with us. That is how well we led our discussions: teachers and adults wanted to see how we handled it and how we connected with the kids. Wait...we had a total of three adults I think. The new L.A. teacher, the T.A., and the new science teacher.
To be completely honest, this is it for my blogging tonight. Too much to comprehend for one night.
I'm not putting the song up here. You know it. I know it. Only more sad smiles of acceptance will come of it.
I was driving back home from Jamba Juice when it happened. We have satellite radio in the car, so there are hundreds of channels of specific genres of music. The station I always listen to is grunge and 90's rock. I was just a street or so away from home when Good Riddance came on, and I felt like dropping my mom and sister off and going to an empty space to just cry. I haven't listened to that song all the way through since I sang it at our 8th grade promotion ceremony. That moment suddenly was all that my mind was focused on.
It really got me thinking. Where would I be without what I learned in 8th grade? I looked down at my seat and said in my head, "You could very well not be where you are at this second without it". It was huge. All of my Mr. Reed moments came to mind and the moments when my squad finally had realized we aren't all that different. It was literally overwhelming. I realized that I have impacted so many peoples lives. There are of course my peers who have never let me forget how I affected them, but then I remembered I was a counselor. All the kids in my squads really wanted to learn from me. They all wanted to hear what I had to say and how I wasn't much different from them. Although only one of the two squads I watched over really got the lesson, both really grew. The first time I went up (the weekend of my birthday), we had done the diversity walk, where everyone stands in a large circle and someone reads off a list, and if you identify with what the speaker said, you walk to the middle of the circle, face the people beside you, then face the outside, then walk back. I remember at the beginning when all of the kids were laughing and kidding around and doing what they normally would...but by the end of it...there wasn't any of that. I remember one of the kids in my squad specifically. He seemed like the kids that was in school to make the others smile, as if he never had a wrong to frown about. He was extremely short and an overall good kid. When his squad mates saw him crying, they knew that there was something more serious to worry about. All of those kids looked up to me to show them that lesson-the brutally honest lesson that we are not to be segregated and put down. All of the kids seemed to look up to me. They felt so comfortable with me that when they found out it was my birthday, all of them started to crowd around me in the dining hall singing happy birthday, then all tackled me. I mean everyone. Kids I didn't get the chance to talk to were taking their time to show me that they cared.
The second time I went, the squad got it. I know they did. Our first discussion was so intricate that we were late to dinner because of our sharing. Those kids were great. They were all so eager to hear my stories and for me to listen to theirs and know that I was listening seemed like a god send for them. They all welcomed me and the other counselor like a part of their squad. We even had two teachers come by to our discussions because they heard that ours got so deep and intimate that they wanted to see and share with us. That is how well we led our discussions: teachers and adults wanted to see how we handled it and how we connected with the kids. Wait...we had a total of three adults I think. The new L.A. teacher, the T.A., and the new science teacher.
To be completely honest, this is it for my blogging tonight. Too much to comprehend for one night.
Monday, March 16, 2009
"What are you
on about?"
Ughhh...I will never forget how I won tickets to the last MCR tour before they went into their break from these guys over myspace-and not being able to accept them do to not telling my mom my movie ran late.
C'est La Vie as Alia would say.
I am really glad MCR is out again. They did a Dylan cover for the movie adaptation of Watchmen which I am hoping to see sometime soon. I like most of Zack Snyder's films. He did both 300 and a remake of Dawn of the Dead.
Oh! I haven't talked about that yet!
I was very pleased to remember that the original creator and setting of the Dead films are Pennsylvania packed. George Romero is obviously inspired by his 'burgh heritage. He was born in New York, but went to Carnegie Mellon (same college as my parents). He set all of his films in PA, and it just kinda makes my heart warm. Having Pittsburgh and Monroeville and other rural places in PA be the setting of the film industries most well known zombie franchise just makes me full of home state pride.
So, part two of my hometown memories:
This guy is just hysterical to listen to. He reminds me of my grandfather and his phone. Does little bits of video to send to his buddies.
This is in a store called Kraynaks, which is basically your store you would shop at if you were ages 60-80 and a woman. It is seriously a screaming sale for old cat ladies. I can't lie. But I used to love it for two reasons. First, which I am most fond of, was their set up of Thomas the Tank Engine train set. It was my favorite place to go to play. I would call it Trainaks when I was little. Then around Christmas, that tunnel in the video was a family must visit. It just kinda seems like that is a part of Disneyland that was moved to middle of no where PA.
I have found a new addiction. Trader Joes Chicken Fried Rice. It is great. A microwavable stir fry.
Oh! I haven't said this either. I have short hair now. I got it cut a few weeks ago, and it is the shortest it has been in almost 4 years. It's nice though. I think I am actually going to keep it this way, along with not dying it black anymore. It's pretty nice. My face is visible.
Also, today was my first day back from break. Besides bombing a quiz, I think it went pretty well. I feel great due to after school though. I came home and hopped in the shower (it is pushing the summer heat digits). Then I took my after school Ritalin and did something that made me feel great: did my homework. It doesn't seem like that big of a deal to most people. To most, it is something that comes naturally. Not for me, and it has been that way for years. But today I sat down and just did it all. I honestly felt like crying because it was like a huge load was lifted from my shoulders. It seriously felt like I accomplished the highest degree of medical school after I put everything back into my backpack. I felt extremely proud of myself. I also had the time to take out the recyclables without being asked, write a little more of reflect (first day of writers block though, so not much was accomplished there), and read a little further in Les Miserables for English. This all sounds pretty childish, really. All of these things are usually discovered when you are in Middle School and you are actually managing your time and all of that, but Middle School was a little rough for me. Considering at the very beginning of it I had a certain experience I wish to never encounter again kinda set me off track, the rest of the duration was very minimal. It sorta hurts to say that the most I ever tried in Middle School was in 8th grade when my writing would reflect my appreciation and adaptation to the humanities of the English course. I think that was when I decided that I want to do my own thing. I still have every paper Mr. Reed (my 8th grade English teacher) graded. Every paper he left me notes saying how he loved my way with words in the essays, and how he just loved watching as my poetic abilities flourished with each turn. I don't think that I have felt this good about school work since that point.
I was reading this book called Fallen Angels, and it is about an African American soldier in Vietnam. I remembered reading a part where his squad was to do an emergency sweep of the Vietcong attacking a village and all of the horrors they encountered there. It was then when it hit me: Mr. Reed was in Vietnam. I knew he was. I never had the guts to ask him about it. I wouldn't want to resurface any memories that he might have suppressed, but at the same time I wanted to know what he had gone through. He shared stories about what he experienced in everyday life and how we should take them and cherish them all. Something just told me that he had seen more than he shared, and I don't blame him at all for not sharing. I just really wish I could sit down and talk to him about it.
In Rockland, there was this shop for sort of Eastern artifacts and merchandise. I walked in and simply browsed and ended up buying a Tibetan Buddhist incense holster. The woman working there was interested to see me there and gave me this white cloth that is given out of respect in the culture. She said it was because she respected my youth, but also the respect and interest I took in her culture. When I heard many of Mr.Reed's stories, I slowly began to admire him more and more. Then I remembered the cloth. I remember wrapping it up and placing it in my backpack, then going to his class. I waited for everyone to leave, then took it out and explained it to him. I then gave him the cloth. It was a very deep moment. We had a few tears and one of those hugs where it is one armed, but extended. He still has it to this day, and it has almost been three years.
I have a piece of artwork I would like to give to my dad, but I'm not sure yet. I still might add some stuff or at least give it a nice support. I have no use for it though. Might as well give it away. I'm not sure what he would do with it, but it just sorta seems like I should send him it because it is a piece of work that he can actually relate to.
I just talked indirectly to my father when he is one of the few people who actually reads this.
I feel so cool.
Ughhh...I will never forget how I won tickets to the last MCR tour before they went into their break from these guys over myspace-and not being able to accept them do to not telling my mom my movie ran late.
C'est La Vie as Alia would say.
I am really glad MCR is out again. They did a Dylan cover for the movie adaptation of Watchmen which I am hoping to see sometime soon. I like most of Zack Snyder's films. He did both 300 and a remake of Dawn of the Dead.
Oh! I haven't talked about that yet!
I was very pleased to remember that the original creator and setting of the Dead films are Pennsylvania packed. George Romero is obviously inspired by his 'burgh heritage. He was born in New York, but went to Carnegie Mellon (same college as my parents). He set all of his films in PA, and it just kinda makes my heart warm. Having Pittsburgh and Monroeville and other rural places in PA be the setting of the film industries most well known zombie franchise just makes me full of home state pride.
So, part two of my hometown memories:
This guy is just hysterical to listen to. He reminds me of my grandfather and his phone. Does little bits of video to send to his buddies.
This is in a store called Kraynaks, which is basically your store you would shop at if you were ages 60-80 and a woman. It is seriously a screaming sale for old cat ladies. I can't lie. But I used to love it for two reasons. First, which I am most fond of, was their set up of Thomas the Tank Engine train set. It was my favorite place to go to play. I would call it Trainaks when I was little. Then around Christmas, that tunnel in the video was a family must visit. It just kinda seems like that is a part of Disneyland that was moved to middle of no where PA.
I have found a new addiction. Trader Joes Chicken Fried Rice. It is great. A microwavable stir fry.
Oh! I haven't said this either. I have short hair now. I got it cut a few weeks ago, and it is the shortest it has been in almost 4 years. It's nice though. I think I am actually going to keep it this way, along with not dying it black anymore. It's pretty nice. My face is visible.
Also, today was my first day back from break. Besides bombing a quiz, I think it went pretty well. I feel great due to after school though. I came home and hopped in the shower (it is pushing the summer heat digits). Then I took my after school Ritalin and did something that made me feel great: did my homework. It doesn't seem like that big of a deal to most people. To most, it is something that comes naturally. Not for me, and it has been that way for years. But today I sat down and just did it all. I honestly felt like crying because it was like a huge load was lifted from my shoulders. It seriously felt like I accomplished the highest degree of medical school after I put everything back into my backpack. I felt extremely proud of myself. I also had the time to take out the recyclables without being asked, write a little more of reflect (first day of writers block though, so not much was accomplished there), and read a little further in Les Miserables for English. This all sounds pretty childish, really. All of these things are usually discovered when you are in Middle School and you are actually managing your time and all of that, but Middle School was a little rough for me. Considering at the very beginning of it I had a certain experience I wish to never encounter again kinda set me off track, the rest of the duration was very minimal. It sorta hurts to say that the most I ever tried in Middle School was in 8th grade when my writing would reflect my appreciation and adaptation to the humanities of the English course. I think that was when I decided that I want to do my own thing. I still have every paper Mr. Reed (my 8th grade English teacher) graded. Every paper he left me notes saying how he loved my way with words in the essays, and how he just loved watching as my poetic abilities flourished with each turn. I don't think that I have felt this good about school work since that point.
I was reading this book called Fallen Angels, and it is about an African American soldier in Vietnam. I remembered reading a part where his squad was to do an emergency sweep of the Vietcong attacking a village and all of the horrors they encountered there. It was then when it hit me: Mr. Reed was in Vietnam. I knew he was. I never had the guts to ask him about it. I wouldn't want to resurface any memories that he might have suppressed, but at the same time I wanted to know what he had gone through. He shared stories about what he experienced in everyday life and how we should take them and cherish them all. Something just told me that he had seen more than he shared, and I don't blame him at all for not sharing. I just really wish I could sit down and talk to him about it.
In Rockland, there was this shop for sort of Eastern artifacts and merchandise. I walked in and simply browsed and ended up buying a Tibetan Buddhist incense holster. The woman working there was interested to see me there and gave me this white cloth that is given out of respect in the culture. She said it was because she respected my youth, but also the respect and interest I took in her culture. When I heard many of Mr.Reed's stories, I slowly began to admire him more and more. Then I remembered the cloth. I remember wrapping it up and placing it in my backpack, then going to his class. I waited for everyone to leave, then took it out and explained it to him. I then gave him the cloth. It was a very deep moment. We had a few tears and one of those hugs where it is one armed, but extended. He still has it to this day, and it has almost been three years.
I have a piece of artwork I would like to give to my dad, but I'm not sure yet. I still might add some stuff or at least give it a nice support. I have no use for it though. Might as well give it away. I'm not sure what he would do with it, but it just sorta seems like I should send him it because it is a piece of work that he can actually relate to.
I just talked indirectly to my father when he is one of the few people who actually reads this.
I feel so cool.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
"You've got the right of way!"
I got a huge chuckle out of this. Same guy from the Lube video. Another something I can relate to. Camden is hell getting around in for this exact reason. He's absolutely right though. We go down to Darimascotta, and its true.
Fun Fact:
Darimascotta is obviously not in the dictionary. I know that I spelled it wrong, but I clicked for suggestions on spelling, and Scottsdale came up. Not even close...there aren't any losers with frosted tips and Sugar Ray haircuts in Maine...
"I'll never let them hurt you
I promise"
I didn't finish the first half of reflect. I said I was going to push to, but to be honest, I didn't let myself. I actually got positively distracted. I did a bit of art and collected ideas for the book. Honestly, all the brainstorming I did satisfies me. I've pretty much got the entire first half of the book planned out, along the majority of planning done for the second half. I've also written a couple of pages from it, but not in the order I need. From what I have done though, I'm confident in the rest of it.
Updating is going to be much slower now that 1.) I am back in school, and 2.) I broke my laptop. Yes, I finally pushed it too far. I knew there was something wrong with it, and decided that I know how to fix computers and took it apart, only to find out later that a part of the laptop that wont come off when disassembled is the monitor cord, which I somehow damaged. The actual laptop isn't broken, but the screen has 2/3s of it in blank white, and the small portion at the top is still visible. I am now connecting my laptop to an external monitor and lucky for me, I'm missing the AC cable. So I borrowed my sister's cable from her computer for the night.
Break is now over, and it is the final quarter of this year. I always used to look at it as a football game in elementary school. I guess it isn't as easy as that anymore. With the next few AIMS sessions, cramming for finals, and every damned reading quiz in between, the last thing I need is to leave for a week and a half right before finals. I know that Disneyworld and the cruise and all of that will be great and fun and every other adjective describing joyous. But in reality, that week is just another week that I'll be missing essential crap in school. And the time couldn't be worse. End of April to beginning of May. Right when most of my classes will begin a year's review. I'm going to get all the work early and do it before I leave, but at the same time, as I am running around the deck of the ship with whatever other teens happen to be there, school is going to be haunting my mind.
This past week has been great, though. A lot has been realized and said in the current situation, and I'm pretty sure that this time the decision was made honestly. We both came to realize that what happened ultimately happened, but in the midst of it brought us back together. With it happening, it gave me the gall and the commitment to find the problem, make a plan to solve it, and go through with it. I've done all of that. On the emotional side of it, it has shown us the opposite side of the spectrum, and we don't like it. It showed us how much both of us actually care about each other and how we wouldn't feel this way if it wasn't something important. This all sounds like complete bullshit to the bottomfeeders who might still (but really shouldn't if they do) care. Oh well. They don't know. Bottom line is right there before their eyes.
I got a present from my dad for Valentine's Day (family thing. I tend to get little bitsy gifts for the bitsy holidays i.e.Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Thanksgiving, Halloween, and Easter)
Side Note:
I find it kinda funny how I actually get legitimate gifts for Easter. A few years back, I got a digital camera on a holiday that I couldn't care less about/beleive in. With Christmas, fine. I see it as much more of a family up-bringing than Easter. But damn! Really? Also, money too. If I recall, fifty to a hundred dollars for Jesus Zombie Day. But then again, the suppliers of the gifts are Catholic, so that day just means a lot to them. Not enough for me to go to church, that is for cereal.
Anyway, the book is called "Wooden" and to my dismay have not started reading it yet, All the time in the world and reading really didn't captivate me. But the book is coming with me to school now until I finish it. I often have little periods of time in a few classes that I find myself daydreaming in, so I can actually have something to do. That is what I did with "Fight Club" for a while.
I've watched That 70's Show for quite a while now (asking backup from my dad: How many times would you either come home to me watching it or me attempting to kick the boys from Cyberchase to watch it?) and have noticed something very important. TV is really not a way to model a situation. For people who state that they are becoming Ross and Rachael or an Eliot and J.D. (God, I hate Scrubs. Shoot me now, I know. I am basically the only person who doesn't find it funny, but I don't) is not healthy. I really hope that people don't do it, but I know that there are people who do. Really...people who go through the things that they do in That 70's Show don't continue to meet in the same basement everyday.
I've gotten a good amount of crap out for a solid post. I've decided that by the end of the school year, reflect will be finished, I'm going to have more art, and actually record. That last one is a biggie. I've been saying that for almost a year now, and I really need to. Oh well. It'll happen. At least one song.
OHMAN!
Forget about finishing there!
WHABAM!
Some guy who could afford a video camera in the speck of PA that I call my hometown decided to videotape random crap around the Sharon area.
Stop the video at 0:08.
There are two place mats. The one at the top of the screen is my official spot. Mine. Reserved. That place is my seat. Ask my father, my grandfather, anyone else in my family, and hell, even the bartender Lou (shes great).
The place is called the Quaker Steak and Lube as a parody of an auto shop, and has been a part of my life since I was a mere child.
That place has so many of my most heartfelt memories, and I am going to type as many as I can remember now.
My spot came to be when I attended a Bike Nite at the establishment. The whole place would sponsor a night where all the local bikers (As in motorcycle) would gather and park and have an overall good time. It was customary, however, to look the part. So many many people wearing their leather vests and gloves and bandannas. My grandfather happened to had recently purchased a Harley and wanted to attend (not our first time, but first Bike Nite). I was wearing a bandanna that my grandfather had bought me, and when it came time to eat we headed to the bar. Pennsylvania law states that kids can sit at the bar accompanied by an adult, so I was allowed to sit with them. That was when I met Lou. She became my friend after a devastating mistake on my behalf.
The Lube (as I call it) is famous and most widely known for their wings. If I can remember, something along the lines of 22 or something close to 30 types of sauce and all were aligned on a hotness scale. I usually ordered Arizona Ranch, which became a bit of irony for me. At the top of the scale was the Atomic sauce, which isn't even a sauce. To make it, the people in the kitchen have to leave and there is this huge process into making this damned sauce to go on a few lousy wings. The sauce is so hot that above the entrance to the bar, there are packets of paper that are labeled Atomic Survivors, meaning they ate the wing. Back to Lou.
My grandfather decided it would be funny to order an Atomic wing. A few if I recall. I was enjoying my wings and reached in for another. I took a bite, and I suddenly felt as if I poured some combination of battery acid and lighter fluid on my tongue. So my grandfather starts laughing and I am on the verge of tears when Lou gives me a shot glass of chocolate sauce. After about three more, the hurt went away.
The next time we came, I sat in my spot again, and she looked at me in this odd way. She recognized me, but wanted to poke fun at it, asking, "Where the hell is your bandanna?" Ever since then, that has been my spot.
School tomorrow. I want to share more, but I know that Calo's quiz is going to bite me in the ass if I don't get any sleep. Sometime this week I'll get around to it.
I didn't finish the first half of reflect. I said I was going to push to, but to be honest, I didn't let myself. I actually got positively distracted. I did a bit of art and collected ideas for the book. Honestly, all the brainstorming I did satisfies me. I've pretty much got the entire first half of the book planned out, along the majority of planning done for the second half. I've also written a couple of pages from it, but not in the order I need. From what I have done though, I'm confident in the rest of it.
Updating is going to be much slower now that 1.) I am back in school, and 2.) I broke my laptop. Yes, I finally pushed it too far. I knew there was something wrong with it, and decided that I know how to fix computers and took it apart, only to find out later that a part of the laptop that wont come off when disassembled is the monitor cord, which I somehow damaged. The actual laptop isn't broken, but the screen has 2/3s of it in blank white, and the small portion at the top is still visible. I am now connecting my laptop to an external monitor and lucky for me, I'm missing the AC cable. So I borrowed my sister's cable from her computer for the night.
Break is now over, and it is the final quarter of this year. I always used to look at it as a football game in elementary school. I guess it isn't as easy as that anymore. With the next few AIMS sessions, cramming for finals, and every damned reading quiz in between, the last thing I need is to leave for a week and a half right before finals. I know that Disneyworld and the cruise and all of that will be great and fun and every other adjective describing joyous. But in reality, that week is just another week that I'll be missing essential crap in school. And the time couldn't be worse. End of April to beginning of May. Right when most of my classes will begin a year's review. I'm going to get all the work early and do it before I leave, but at the same time, as I am running around the deck of the ship with whatever other teens happen to be there, school is going to be haunting my mind.
This past week has been great, though. A lot has been realized and said in the current situation, and I'm pretty sure that this time the decision was made honestly. We both came to realize that what happened ultimately happened, but in the midst of it brought us back together. With it happening, it gave me the gall and the commitment to find the problem, make a plan to solve it, and go through with it. I've done all of that. On the emotional side of it, it has shown us the opposite side of the spectrum, and we don't like it. It showed us how much both of us actually care about each other and how we wouldn't feel this way if it wasn't something important. This all sounds like complete bullshit to the bottomfeeders who might still (but really shouldn't if they do) care. Oh well. They don't know. Bottom line is right there before their eyes.
I got a present from my dad for Valentine's Day (family thing. I tend to get little bitsy gifts for the bitsy holidays i.e.Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Thanksgiving, Halloween, and Easter)
Side Note:
I find it kinda funny how I actually get legitimate gifts for Easter. A few years back, I got a digital camera on a holiday that I couldn't care less about/beleive in. With Christmas, fine. I see it as much more of a family up-bringing than Easter. But damn! Really? Also, money too. If I recall, fifty to a hundred dollars for Jesus Zombie Day. But then again, the suppliers of the gifts are Catholic, so that day just means a lot to them. Not enough for me to go to church, that is for cereal.
Anyway, the book is called "Wooden" and to my dismay have not started reading it yet, All the time in the world and reading really didn't captivate me. But the book is coming with me to school now until I finish it. I often have little periods of time in a few classes that I find myself daydreaming in, so I can actually have something to do. That is what I did with "Fight Club" for a while.
I've watched That 70's Show for quite a while now (asking backup from my dad: How many times would you either come home to me watching it or me attempting to kick the boys from Cyberchase to watch it?) and have noticed something very important. TV is really not a way to model a situation. For people who state that they are becoming Ross and Rachael or an Eliot and J.D. (God, I hate Scrubs. Shoot me now, I know. I am basically the only person who doesn't find it funny, but I don't) is not healthy. I really hope that people don't do it, but I know that there are people who do. Really...people who go through the things that they do in That 70's Show don't continue to meet in the same basement everyday.
I've gotten a good amount of crap out for a solid post. I've decided that by the end of the school year, reflect will be finished, I'm going to have more art, and actually record. That last one is a biggie. I've been saying that for almost a year now, and I really need to. Oh well. It'll happen. At least one song.
OHMAN!
Forget about finishing there!
WHABAM!
Some guy who could afford a video camera in the speck of PA that I call my hometown decided to videotape random crap around the Sharon area.
Stop the video at 0:08.
There are two place mats. The one at the top of the screen is my official spot. Mine. Reserved. That place is my seat. Ask my father, my grandfather, anyone else in my family, and hell, even the bartender Lou (shes great).
The place is called the Quaker Steak and Lube as a parody of an auto shop, and has been a part of my life since I was a mere child.
That place has so many of my most heartfelt memories, and I am going to type as many as I can remember now.
My spot came to be when I attended a Bike Nite at the establishment. The whole place would sponsor a night where all the local bikers (As in motorcycle) would gather and park and have an overall good time. It was customary, however, to look the part. So many many people wearing their leather vests and gloves and bandannas. My grandfather happened to had recently purchased a Harley and wanted to attend (not our first time, but first Bike Nite). I was wearing a bandanna that my grandfather had bought me, and when it came time to eat we headed to the bar. Pennsylvania law states that kids can sit at the bar accompanied by an adult, so I was allowed to sit with them. That was when I met Lou. She became my friend after a devastating mistake on my behalf.
The Lube (as I call it) is famous and most widely known for their wings. If I can remember, something along the lines of 22 or something close to 30 types of sauce and all were aligned on a hotness scale. I usually ordered Arizona Ranch, which became a bit of irony for me. At the top of the scale was the Atomic sauce, which isn't even a sauce. To make it, the people in the kitchen have to leave and there is this huge process into making this damned sauce to go on a few lousy wings. The sauce is so hot that above the entrance to the bar, there are packets of paper that are labeled Atomic Survivors, meaning they ate the wing. Back to Lou.
My grandfather decided it would be funny to order an Atomic wing. A few if I recall. I was enjoying my wings and reached in for another. I took a bite, and I suddenly felt as if I poured some combination of battery acid and lighter fluid on my tongue. So my grandfather starts laughing and I am on the verge of tears when Lou gives me a shot glass of chocolate sauce. After about three more, the hurt went away.
The next time we came, I sat in my spot again, and she looked at me in this odd way. She recognized me, but wanted to poke fun at it, asking, "Where the hell is your bandanna?" Ever since then, that has been my spot.
School tomorrow. I want to share more, but I know that Calo's quiz is going to bite me in the ass if I don't get any sleep. Sometime this week I'll get around to it.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
"And I get a little shaken
because I live my life like this"
FACT:
This song was off of MCR's first album I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, but the video was made during their Three Cheers era. It was right before the original drummer and founding member Matt Pellisier left the band. He is in the video as he recorded with them for the first two records. It might explain the sudden dramatic change in edgeyness from the first two into Black Parade (Which was amazing, but each record has it's own strong and weak points). The video is also a tribute in a way to a Japanese horror film called The Audition. It is about a guy who holds auditions to meet potential girlfriends. All are either too peppy or too upfront or flat or something like that, but this one girl (who looks like every evil thing in a Jap Horror film i.e.black hair, almost white skin, long hair, has the sense she might end up doing unnecessary murderous acupuncture to you...etc)captures his interest and he wants more. The movie is actually quite boring, excluding a few splices you see of a bag moving around in the girls apartment. I won't spoil it. The ending is ridiculously amazing though. A...what? Hour and a half build up to reveal the final 45 minutes that leave you speechless.
The first two albums have been a great influence on the writing process. Last night I couldn't go to sleep because of it. I had all of these great ideas come to mind that I had to write down, and I think I've got it all planned out. I just need to write it out and organize it. I wrote some pages last night. They're pretty good. I also couldn't sleep out of fear of the rabbit. It is still unnamed, and am almost considering calling it the rabbit in the book. But the way I made it, it is creepy. It even scares me to think about. Imagine seeing this face in the corners of your room while you are trying to sleep:
It took a lot for me to go with the rabbit. It has been used before indefinitely. Donnie Darko has Frank, the menacing rabid rabbit mascot that haunts Donnie. Alice has the White Rabbit. The idea sparked from LeATHERMOUTH, which is Frank Iero's (MCR's Rhythm Guitarist) side project, in which all the members except Frank wear rabbit masks. Oh well. It all works too well. Heroin was first tested on rabbits to market as aspirin. It all makes much more sense in my head. I could say it all, but that would ruin the whole point of the book, so I won't. Just trust me, it makes sense.
The original idea of the story has definitely evolved, going from a mirror pointing out the wrongs in the character's life and how they need to take responsibility for it has slowly morphed into a heroin (back to this later) addict that has the constant images of a rabbit haunting him to continue using, while every time he looks in the mirror, the mirror tries to show him what is becoming of him by distorting his face and pushing him into taking action. I am very excited to put all of this into action, especially with the terminology I created for the book.
Now, heroin. The symptoms the character shows suggest that he is on heroin, PCP, and LSD. I have to figure out a way to do this. I was thinking of somehow lacing the heroin, but I doubt that is possible. I'll think of something eventually.
I've split the book into two parts. First is his encounter and steady decline due to use, then part two is the long term effects and his choice as to what to do. I'm not going to say the ending. I'm too excited for it. It is just...oh man. I don't want to sound like a jerk, but it really is just amazing.
Tomorrow I am going over to Ashley's to watch Donnie Darko and have her read the little tidbits I have of the story. I am very confidant that this could maybe actually go somewhere. It would be great to see that rabbit staring down teens from the bookshelves as they reach for a copy of Twilight or something like that. The only problem is publishing requirements. A lot of publishers only take certain types of books, and I can't label it. It is not in a format that I can just say YA or something like that. Although I would hope teens would read it, nothing in the book has to do with a teen problem or teens at all. It sure as hell isn't fantasy or anything. I think that there should be a genre called "Brutally Honest with an Artistic and Psychological Twist".
I need my inhaler from laughing too much
FACT:
This song was off of MCR's first album I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, but the video was made during their Three Cheers era. It was right before the original drummer and founding member Matt Pellisier left the band. He is in the video as he recorded with them for the first two records. It might explain the sudden dramatic change in edgeyness from the first two into Black Parade (Which was amazing, but each record has it's own strong and weak points). The video is also a tribute in a way to a Japanese horror film called The Audition. It is about a guy who holds auditions to meet potential girlfriends. All are either too peppy or too upfront or flat or something like that, but this one girl (who looks like every evil thing in a Jap Horror film i.e.black hair, almost white skin, long hair, has the sense she might end up doing unnecessary murderous acupuncture to you...etc)captures his interest and he wants more. The movie is actually quite boring, excluding a few splices you see of a bag moving around in the girls apartment. I won't spoil it. The ending is ridiculously amazing though. A...what? Hour and a half build up to reveal the final 45 minutes that leave you speechless.
The first two albums have been a great influence on the writing process. Last night I couldn't go to sleep because of it. I had all of these great ideas come to mind that I had to write down, and I think I've got it all planned out. I just need to write it out and organize it. I wrote some pages last night. They're pretty good. I also couldn't sleep out of fear of the rabbit. It is still unnamed, and am almost considering calling it the rabbit in the book. But the way I made it, it is creepy. It even scares me to think about. Imagine seeing this face in the corners of your room while you are trying to sleep:
It took a lot for me to go with the rabbit. It has been used before indefinitely. Donnie Darko has Frank, the menacing rabid rabbit mascot that haunts Donnie. Alice has the White Rabbit. The idea sparked from LeATHERMOUTH, which is Frank Iero's (MCR's Rhythm Guitarist) side project, in which all the members except Frank wear rabbit masks. Oh well. It all works too well. Heroin was first tested on rabbits to market as aspirin. It all makes much more sense in my head. I could say it all, but that would ruin the whole point of the book, so I won't. Just trust me, it makes sense.
The original idea of the story has definitely evolved, going from a mirror pointing out the wrongs in the character's life and how they need to take responsibility for it has slowly morphed into a heroin (back to this later) addict that has the constant images of a rabbit haunting him to continue using, while every time he looks in the mirror, the mirror tries to show him what is becoming of him by distorting his face and pushing him into taking action. I am very excited to put all of this into action, especially with the terminology I created for the book.
Now, heroin. The symptoms the character shows suggest that he is on heroin, PCP, and LSD. I have to figure out a way to do this. I was thinking of somehow lacing the heroin, but I doubt that is possible. I'll think of something eventually.
I've split the book into two parts. First is his encounter and steady decline due to use, then part two is the long term effects and his choice as to what to do. I'm not going to say the ending. I'm too excited for it. It is just...oh man. I don't want to sound like a jerk, but it really is just amazing.
Tomorrow I am going over to Ashley's to watch Donnie Darko and have her read the little tidbits I have of the story. I am very confidant that this could maybe actually go somewhere. It would be great to see that rabbit staring down teens from the bookshelves as they reach for a copy of Twilight or something like that. The only problem is publishing requirements. A lot of publishers only take certain types of books, and I can't label it. It is not in a format that I can just say YA or something like that. Although I would hope teens would read it, nothing in the book has to do with a teen problem or teens at all. It sure as hell isn't fantasy or anything. I think that there should be a genre called "Brutally Honest with an Artistic and Psychological Twist".
I need my inhaler from laughing too much
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Anyone want to make me happy for life?
This would make my life complete
http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=16304891&color=05
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