Nobody asked for the time

When I was younger, I regretted nothing and lived for the present. As I grow older (I’m not saying I’ve finished maturing), I’m starting to blend the young me into the old me. I still dwell in the present. But I look back to the past with nostalgia in my eyes. I glimpse at the future and know what I have to do.

But I don’t do it.

That goes back to the “living in the present” thing. I know I have to prepare and work towards the future, but I don’t. I’ll be damned if that ever changes.

Anyone else starting to realize they’re maturing? I know of one person. Sleeping at the odd hour (It’s probably not you. Yeah, you.) and waking up when most people go to sleep. Their body is loosing their youth, and now, it seems, their sleep pattern is almost the same as mine. Stay awake for 12 hours, then sleep for the  remaining 12.

Write a comment about yourself. Growing old, or staying young, anything at all. We love comments.

A siren goes

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So recently I’ve been thinking(a dangerous past time) that you just don’t know someone ever. Even if you feel like you do. Because a person always has secrets. Right? Unless you’re one of those people who just says everything. But even those people have secrets. Secret jealousies or loves or fetishes (I regret typing that).

So questions are a great way to learn more about a person. Well, more about a person that they want you to know about. But…. That seems really… How do I put it..? Stalkerish? Sort of like that. Just asking someone everything about them constantly. What they did, what they ate, what they liked about their day etc. That’s…not giving a person a lot of space. And we all need our space. So in the end, even if you do try to learn more about a person via questions… there’s that little voice in your head saying, ” You’re being a creep, stop it.” Or worse, it says, ” This person doesn’t want you to know about them.”

And with this, I’ve been thinking even more. Those people I mentioned earlier who just blurt things out or tell their friends everything. There’s a secret for that too. There’s a reason that they’re not telling their friends, even if they say it’s one thing. It makes you wonder… why? I guess? but not like why do they do that. Why are they like that. Makes me wonder, anyway.

Humm…but in the end you accept it. Because life’s a bitch without friends. Or at least acquaintances, in some people’s cases.But (I’ve used that a lot) when it comes down to it, I guess, you can always count on someone…. right?

Even this kid. He’s got that nice judge who was on Qualifications of a Man. And all of his fans. This video was at 3 million views yesterday. Now look at it. Granted, not as popular as Friday but.. You know. Pretty good feat. (I also like the Qualifications of a Man version of Nella Fantasia, so you should check that out too)

The kid… he told the judges about him because he was asked. He wouldn’t have said it otherwise. right? Maybe.. You should skip through the video to where he sings, then go back and read the interview (or in one person’s case, listen).

 

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DEFIBRILATE

So hey guys. I am disappoint. Seriously. A blog isn’t a blog until people comment and become interactive and social and stuff with bloggers. Because right now it feels like I’m talking to myself. Which I am.

Unless you guys would like to help? SERIOUSLY. Most disappointing audience ever. You all should be ashamed of yourself. As should the other three authors. Those…. Anyway. This year’s coming to an end. We’re slowly becoming not freshman. Which is an improvement. But only eight weeks of Summer Vacation.. Gahhh it seems so short!!! TTATT;””

But whatever guys. Because we all know what ends up happening. We plan wonderous adventures and end up not pulling them off until the last minute. Which sucks. And then there’s the school rush at Targets or Wal-Marts or K-Marts, where you run into other students going in for last minute shopping. And then there’s the fact that we have so many F-ing books to read… Gahhh.

Anyway, Yeah.

Being Human

I still can’t quiet grasp the idea of being human. And by that I mean my ideals of being a human, not some stupid teen in a shanty-school who doesn’t even know how to bathe himself correctly. My theories of becoming a human. That’s what people should talk about. Not about being, ” Normal” (which doesn’t exist apparently) or being bullied or fitting in or all of that shat. Just being human.

I mean, there are so many different varying opinions on it. Some people say that being human is the ability to walk up-right or opposable thumbs. Which, by the way, is utter bull-crap. I don’t mind evolution and it’s various theories, but being human isn’t something that all of us are. After all, what about that guy with no arms? Or those people who can’t walk? So that’s not really being human

So I think that being human is having the ability to feel and think more than one thing at a time. I might have mentioned this earlier, but I have difficulty with this. I can never be happy about one thing while being indifferent about another thing. Call it mood swings, or multiple personality disorder, or whatever. But when I am happy, I’m happy. That’s it. I only think happy thoughts, and I only think of posative things.

And when I’m angry, I only thing angry, stupid thoughts. Thoughts that I frown upon when I’m depressed or sad about something or another. It seems that I can not, no matter how hard I try, be my definition of, ” Human.”

On the bright side though, I might be a human to some of you. Post in the comments this time people. I can’t defibrillate this blog forever.

Rules

Always check your pant pockets before you wash them.

Which is dissapointing. I was shoving something in my pockets today and, to my surprise, found something already preocupying my tiny little hide-away. A scrap of paper with some times and information jotted down.

But a surprise nontheless. I can’t really describe it, but when you find something in your pocket from an earlier time, it’s like… a key. You’ve completley forgotten about the event, and placed it back in your past next to shadow-puppets in social studies and chocolates in biology. But then that random scrap of paper, or ticket stub, or figurine makes you remember.

” Hell yeah, I was there and it was awesome. How could I forget it?”

I hate my memory. It’s very unreliable. It can’t even do its job too well. So these little keys I have left in my pocket are great. Well, they’re great until I leave money in my pocket. Then that’s just annoying.

Double Whammy

So you know that thing I do with my face when I’m trying not to smile but my face ends up smiling anyway? Yeah, I need to fix that. It scrunches up my face and I get these weird rolls that sort of look like double chins.

I hope everyone has something like that. (I’m assuming it’s a normal thing to have) A face or a reaction to something that’s spontaneous. You can’t change it no matter how many surgeries you pay for, or how many pills you pop. But knowing people, there’s going to be something that will come along to get rid of it. Some sort of miraculous therapy treatment or what-not.

Bit of a tangent here, but I really like odds and ends. Like, Jack Sparrow’s outfit in Pirates of the Caribbean. Or that fortune-tellers shop in Eragon.(Again, if memory serves me correctly) Just random things hanging from the walls, like beads on a string, or cards just laying around.

Back to the point. So leave a comment if you have one of the things mentioned. And I’m not talking about that thing you picked up randomly because you’re some sort of hipster or whatever. Something that’s stuck with you for forever. Literally. Something that’s been you since you remember being you.

Millenium

I stepped outside onto the cracked pavement, glowing neon lights behind me. The gust of cool, metropolitan air blew past me before I smelled the acrid odor of cigarette smoke. I displayed no reaction when I looked around and locked eyes with a complacent teenager–no older than 17 or 18–lounging on the curb with a smoldering joint in hand. He looked like he was trying very hard to hide the impression of a deliberate air. A noble attempt to look nonchalant.

I went back inside. Waited. Counted seconds. After a short while of final contemplation, I strode out and approached him.

“Hey, can I have a cig’?” I asked him. It felt good to have a steady voice.

The teenager looked surprised for a second before recovering himself and examining me. After a few seconds of consideration, he finally replied, “Sure,” and proceeded to pull out a pack of Marlboro’s from the back pocket of his jeans. He flicked out a cigarette and handed it to me while sucking on the butt of his, clenched between his teeth. They weren’t yellow, yet.

I nodded thanks as he made to pull out a lighter. Before he could press his thumb to the flint wheel, I took the cigarette in both hands and ripped it in two clean halves.
Tossing them aside, I said, “Quit smoking. Get a life, kid.”

I walked away without looking back.