Lordy, it's been eons since I've had the time to update this thing. Between homework, miscellaneous choral activities, and spending every free moment with Larkin (who is, today, 18!), I've just had no free time to jot down what I do in my free time. Or something.
Region auditions were held last weekend at Nimitz HS in Aldine. Annoying and dissonant musical arrangement of some Walt Whitman poem in hand, I waltzed into the audition room with the unfriendly hall monitors with an uncharacteristic aura of confidence about me. I did allright. 22nd place, it turns out. I didn't advance to go do pre-area auditions, but I did make the mixed choir. Some people would shoot poisoned darts at me for this position.
HA! And considering I just opened the practice cd's PACKAGE the night before, I think I kicked some ass. Region weekend will be epic.
Choirboy junk aside, my life's been going well enough. There's all that stress that comes with staying up until pretty much forever to finish those damned physics labs, and trying to remember characters in Uncle Tom's Cabin besides Uncle Fucking Tom, and trying to remember what period it is.
School's a bitch. So is trying to sleep when the neighbors are always getting arrested, making the dead end street next to your house a very unpleasant place to be.
But it's not really bad. I lean towards the negative side of things when I say my life's been going well enough. Realistically, it's grand. I've got this little blue-haired duckling who has been following me around for the past seven and a half months, and I absolutely revel in taking care of her. To have someone to cook miso soup for, someone to buy coffee for, a cute little head to scratch, silken skin to touch, and all those other things I can never comfortably do for people because they are so unlike me -- is a beautiful thing. Larkin Dennis has changed my life, but more importantly, changed me. I am a better person for her love and friendship. I will never forget it. As the French novellist Marcel Proust once said, “Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” And I am grateful eternally.
Friday, October 31, 2003
Sunday, October 19, 2003
The worker raised his razor-sharp weapon to the sky, a tiny clod of dirt plummeting towards the driveway, but not before being deflected by the worker's desperado-style, wide-brimmed hat. For a heroic instant, the twin blades he displayed seemed ready to harness a bolt of lightning from the sky. The worker's victim trembled at the cool, everpresent gusts of wind. Its skin was a pale, shimmering green. The electric tension in the air stopped time, and only the defiant warrior's next move could start it again.
John then stopped fucking around, and continued trimming the hedges.
-----
So today, I took the PSAT. Easier than the practice test even, which I took at 10:00 without knowing how to do it, and got a 200. I think I'll do well.
After sitting around on Rob's EverQuest account (despite my quitting, it's still a decent way to pass time), I finally got a call from Sterling, whose father once again requested my incredible power of labor for his lawnmowing business. I guess I'm just that awesome. He even said I'm good at trimming hedges - after all, I do take an aggressive stance towards the leafy bastards.
So once I cut up all those things, I tied all the long sticks together in several bundles, which took just about forever, and left me with a cut in my thumb and a BITCH of a poke in the eye. I'd forgotten my badass amber sunglasses today, and was jabbed in my already dysfunctional ocular organ by an obnoxious stick. It still hurts.
Two lawns after that made me 25 bucks today. No fortune as the 90 dollar day of death I experienced a few weeks ago, but not bad at all for cutting shit up and pushing self-propelled machines around. Besides, I like my hat.
After I got off from work, ate a bowl of chili and took a shower, I got to hang out with Larkin at Starbucks. Stressed out beyond what most humans find physically and mentally unbearable, these days, she not only has to deal with doing well in her senior year (Durio's physics class and Mrs.Schnell's mysterious grading system included), but the never-ending torment of her tyrannical father, the general hostility of her household, and the completion of applications and essays for more than 15 colleges. I admire the poor girl. My back would've broken a long time ago in her situation, yet my brilliant, spritely author goes on.
Observing these afflictions and injustices which really plague my chick, I immediately treated her to Starbucks so she could tell me of all that troubles her. I like listening to her tell me of her troubles; even the saddest stories make me happy to have her close to me. The confessions we exchange give me a sense of trust I've never felt so strongly in my life. What would we do without each other? I'd be playing Rob's EverQuest account all the time, probably.
John then stopped fucking around, and continued trimming the hedges.
-----
So today, I took the PSAT. Easier than the practice test even, which I took at 10:00 without knowing how to do it, and got a 200. I think I'll do well.
After sitting around on Rob's EverQuest account (despite my quitting, it's still a decent way to pass time), I finally got a call from Sterling, whose father once again requested my incredible power of labor for his lawnmowing business. I guess I'm just that awesome. He even said I'm good at trimming hedges - after all, I do take an aggressive stance towards the leafy bastards.
So once I cut up all those things, I tied all the long sticks together in several bundles, which took just about forever, and left me with a cut in my thumb and a BITCH of a poke in the eye. I'd forgotten my badass amber sunglasses today, and was jabbed in my already dysfunctional ocular organ by an obnoxious stick. It still hurts.
Two lawns after that made me 25 bucks today. No fortune as the 90 dollar day of death I experienced a few weeks ago, but not bad at all for cutting shit up and pushing self-propelled machines around. Besides, I like my hat.
After I got off from work, ate a bowl of chili and took a shower, I got to hang out with Larkin at Starbucks. Stressed out beyond what most humans find physically and mentally unbearable, these days, she not only has to deal with doing well in her senior year (Durio's physics class and Mrs.Schnell's mysterious grading system included), but the never-ending torment of her tyrannical father, the general hostility of her household, and the completion of applications and essays for more than 15 colleges. I admire the poor girl. My back would've broken a long time ago in her situation, yet my brilliant, spritely author goes on.
Observing these afflictions and injustices which really plague my chick, I immediately treated her to Starbucks so she could tell me of all that troubles her. I like listening to her tell me of her troubles; even the saddest stories make me happy to have her close to me. The confessions we exchange give me a sense of trust I've never felt so strongly in my life. What would we do without each other? I'd be playing Rob's EverQuest account all the time, probably.
I am Spaceman Spiff!
Zounds! You are the intrepid Spaceman Spiff, the engaging explorer ensconsed in an unending universe of exotic and evil extraterrestrials! You're brave, but you should give that dictionary a rest.
Which Calvin are YOU?
Zounds! You are the intrepid Spaceman Spiff, the engaging explorer ensconsed in an unending universe of exotic and evil extraterrestrials! You're brave, but you should give that dictionary a rest.
Which Calvin are YOU?
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
Monday, October 13, 2003
Just this past weekend, as I lay pondering not the creation of the universe, nor the physical laws of nature (for I'm pretty sure I've got the both of those figured out), I struck an epiphany regarding an even more interesting and infinitely more subjective concept. This thing I discovered revolves around one human idea: identity.
How, exactly, do we determine who we are? Do we really grow up being intimately familiar with all our characteristics, our personality traits, our social tendencies? Our reactions to pain, pleasure, or any stimulus, for that matter?
I don't think that's the case at all. If anything, our knowledge of our individuality is formed over a long period of time through interactions with not only our environment, but other people. Aren't our opinions of ourselves really just opinions? Based on what other people have told us in the past, or how they've responded to our actions? Perhaps we test people to see their initial reaction, and choose which style of interaction we like best, over the course of our entire lives. Ever changed your conversational habits (ex. stop quoting those damn Austin Powers movies, or quit being so sarcastic) to appeal to a stunning member of the opposite sex? Change your way of life to belong to a certain subculture? There you have it. It's almost like the person doesn't determine his or her way of interacting, but the surrounding environment does. And not by any of this peer pressure stuff either- a guy can grow up choosing to belong to whatever group he wants, provided he starts off showing the right personality traits. Look at Eminem.
How, exactly, do we determine who we are? Do we really grow up being intimately familiar with all our characteristics, our personality traits, our social tendencies? Our reactions to pain, pleasure, or any stimulus, for that matter?
I don't think that's the case at all. If anything, our knowledge of our individuality is formed over a long period of time through interactions with not only our environment, but other people. Aren't our opinions of ourselves really just opinions? Based on what other people have told us in the past, or how they've responded to our actions? Perhaps we test people to see their initial reaction, and choose which style of interaction we like best, over the course of our entire lives. Ever changed your conversational habits (ex. stop quoting those damn Austin Powers movies, or quit being so sarcastic) to appeal to a stunning member of the opposite sex? Change your way of life to belong to a certain subculture? There you have it. It's almost like the person doesn't determine his or her way of interacting, but the surrounding environment does. And not by any of this peer pressure stuff either- a guy can grow up choosing to belong to whatever group he wants, provided he starts off showing the right personality traits. Look at Eminem.
Friday, October 10, 2003
I am lonely, and bored. I need to get out of here. Someone come over here and get me. I'll buy ya a latte or something.
Meh. It's not that bad. Todd'll be around. Right now imma post this unorganized piece of stuff I'd been scribbling in school today:
A SATIRE ON EXISTENCE
I'd like to say that up until now, I've had a very easy life. I'm one of the luckiest people in the world -- I live in a country with a GNP of more than 300 pesos, I was born into a relatively wealthy and stable family, and, sadly, adding to the ease at which I can gain status in the world, I'm a white male.
Because you see, I may complain that I don't have a car, that high school is stressful beyond what I know, or that I think our country's reputation (and level of power) in the world is slowly descending into the seventh circle of hell (I'll get to that later, but it has a lot to do with the incompetence of my fellow white males), but what's it matter?
I could just as easily be a starving little Ethiopian wraith, eating clay to make my stomach pains subside. Or a 16 year-old heroin addict, sleeping in the least mildewed cardboard boxes I can find. Or my parents could be raging drunks, physically abusing me every day after school. Considering my alternatives, I think my current situation is extremely positive.
So you'll understand that if I'm ever feeling a little depressed, I might feel silly, or even guilty, when looking at the big picture -- because no matter how bad things get, they can always get a lot worse. Instead of doing my difficult physics homework, I could be taking an acid bath in Saddam Hussein's lakehouse.
Now, on humans.
I find humans hilarious. We rise up from single-celled globs of carbon to little spiny lobsters to monkeys to apes to tribes of smarter apes, and before you know it, we've conquered it all. We've made up these incredibly elaborate theologies and philosophies that say we're definitely too good for all of that; that it must've been an old, omnipotent man in the sky that started this whole shindig rather than the simple arrangement of particles. After all, we're too special to be protons and neutrons, right? We've got souls!
Not.
We're chemical reactions, and nothing more. There's nothing holy or spiritual or divine about us, or the way we came into existance. Nothing special -- just material driven around by energy. We're as alive and insignificant as a dandelion; and made out of the same stuff. Our eternally pure "souls" are nothing more than electromagnetic fields created by all those little neurons we've got between our ears.
And I don't find that hard to understand, or even accept. The fact that I'm just an insignificant result of a collection of physical laws is actually much more comforting to me than any deity. One can choose to live a happy life on this ball of cosmic dirt, die, and decompose, releasing everything you are back into the environment you drew it from...
...or would you rather live on faith? Shadowed all the time by an invisible dictator who wants you to meet some divine quota - just so he won't have to sear your flesh off your bones for all eternity. I'll take my carbon molecules and electromagnetic fields, thank you very much.
Common sense, right?
Apparently not, according to most of the world's biased populace. I did say I find humanity hilarious.
Not only are we just chemical reactions, we're the most volatile ones on the planet! Nothing is more acidic to nature than acid rain. It's a terrible predicament the Earth has gotten herself into these past hundred thousand years.
She feeds us food and water, grows us our crops, lets us drill holes in her very bosom and extract her blood, and what do we give in return? Nuclear waste! Landfills! Oil spills! Veritable mountains of indispensible toxic goo to pollute the atmosphere, kill the wildlife (and occasionally ourselves; was Chernobyl a bad thing?), and gradually heat up the whole place like an oven, which may, in the end, cleanse the poor planet by bringing about our destruction.
But enough about that. It's a terrible tragedy, this destruction of our only air, water, and living quarters, but I find it to be hopeless. I agree with most environmentalists completely -- sure there's need for change -- but it's not going to happen.
We're way too concerned with our petty diplomatic affairs, our wars, our businesses, our money, and our lives in general to really do much about it. So I still eat my meat, drive my SUVs (thought I do want my hydrogen-powered cars, because gas costs an arm and a leg ever since we started shooting up the Middle East), and tune into CNN every night, in my unnecessarily gigantic two-story suburban home with the big backyard, to watch for more signs of that utterly inevitable and apocolyptic nuclear war.
So what? Just the incineration of some more carbon molecules -- it's been happening forever.
Meh. It's not that bad. Todd'll be around. Right now imma post this unorganized piece of stuff I'd been scribbling in school today:
A SATIRE ON EXISTENCE
I'd like to say that up until now, I've had a very easy life. I'm one of the luckiest people in the world -- I live in a country with a GNP of more than 300 pesos, I was born into a relatively wealthy and stable family, and, sadly, adding to the ease at which I can gain status in the world, I'm a white male.
Because you see, I may complain that I don't have a car, that high school is stressful beyond what I know, or that I think our country's reputation (and level of power) in the world is slowly descending into the seventh circle of hell (I'll get to that later, but it has a lot to do with the incompetence of my fellow white males), but what's it matter?
I could just as easily be a starving little Ethiopian wraith, eating clay to make my stomach pains subside. Or a 16 year-old heroin addict, sleeping in the least mildewed cardboard boxes I can find. Or my parents could be raging drunks, physically abusing me every day after school. Considering my alternatives, I think my current situation is extremely positive.
So you'll understand that if I'm ever feeling a little depressed, I might feel silly, or even guilty, when looking at the big picture -- because no matter how bad things get, they can always get a lot worse. Instead of doing my difficult physics homework, I could be taking an acid bath in Saddam Hussein's lakehouse.
Now, on humans.
I find humans hilarious. We rise up from single-celled globs of carbon to little spiny lobsters to monkeys to apes to tribes of smarter apes, and before you know it, we've conquered it all. We've made up these incredibly elaborate theologies and philosophies that say we're definitely too good for all of that; that it must've been an old, omnipotent man in the sky that started this whole shindig rather than the simple arrangement of particles. After all, we're too special to be protons and neutrons, right? We've got souls!
Not.
We're chemical reactions, and nothing more. There's nothing holy or spiritual or divine about us, or the way we came into existance. Nothing special -- just material driven around by energy. We're as alive and insignificant as a dandelion; and made out of the same stuff. Our eternally pure "souls" are nothing more than electromagnetic fields created by all those little neurons we've got between our ears.
And I don't find that hard to understand, or even accept. The fact that I'm just an insignificant result of a collection of physical laws is actually much more comforting to me than any deity. One can choose to live a happy life on this ball of cosmic dirt, die, and decompose, releasing everything you are back into the environment you drew it from...
...or would you rather live on faith? Shadowed all the time by an invisible dictator who wants you to meet some divine quota - just so he won't have to sear your flesh off your bones for all eternity. I'll take my carbon molecules and electromagnetic fields, thank you very much.
Common sense, right?
Apparently not, according to most of the world's biased populace. I did say I find humanity hilarious.
Not only are we just chemical reactions, we're the most volatile ones on the planet! Nothing is more acidic to nature than acid rain. It's a terrible predicament the Earth has gotten herself into these past hundred thousand years.
She feeds us food and water, grows us our crops, lets us drill holes in her very bosom and extract her blood, and what do we give in return? Nuclear waste! Landfills! Oil spills! Veritable mountains of indispensible toxic goo to pollute the atmosphere, kill the wildlife (and occasionally ourselves; was Chernobyl a bad thing?), and gradually heat up the whole place like an oven, which may, in the end, cleanse the poor planet by bringing about our destruction.
But enough about that. It's a terrible tragedy, this destruction of our only air, water, and living quarters, but I find it to be hopeless. I agree with most environmentalists completely -- sure there's need for change -- but it's not going to happen.
We're way too concerned with our petty diplomatic affairs, our wars, our businesses, our money, and our lives in general to really do much about it. So I still eat my meat, drive my SUVs (thought I do want my hydrogen-powered cars, because gas costs an arm and a leg ever since we started shooting up the Middle East), and tune into CNN every night, in my unnecessarily gigantic two-story suburban home with the big backyard, to watch for more signs of that utterly inevitable and apocolyptic nuclear war.
So what? Just the incineration of some more carbon molecules -- it's been happening forever.
Thursday, October 09, 2003
So, I just got done bitching at this guy on KleinForums. Am I hopeless, or what?
Then again, shouldn't it be expected of me to turn into an absolutely searing son of a bitch when someone denounces that which I love (namely Larkin)? And I do, too. I mean, talk to me when walking from History to Physics, two shitty classes in which I socially interact about as much as a blind and deaf Zen monk, and I'll be the most tender, loving guy you'll ever meet. Real self-conscious and embarrassed about little minor things, like tripping on something or dropping a book. I will be as docile as a damn kitten.
But take me at any moment, and tell me that Larkin's writing is an awkward combination of huge and useless archaic words, and I will instill the fear of God into you, no matter WHAT your mother fucking religionists have to say about it. I will do everything in my power to humiliate you in the most vulgar and crude way, while maintaining a constant witty and sarcastic demeanor that is SO caustic, it will, in the case of the KleinForums ass, dissolve your RETINAS and sear the eyelashes off your worthless, white trash face when you read it- and in person, I'm not going to beat you up (though don't fuck with me anyway, especially after denoting my love), but I will do far more than type a paragraph in your general direction - oh, be assured, my rage will lose none of its potency in the transition from the digital to the more humiliating physical reality. I wish to show no mercy whatsoever to the utterly tactless asshats of this world.
Heh. And said asshats will weep when they announce who the homecoming queen is.
Then again, shouldn't it be expected of me to turn into an absolutely searing son of a bitch when someone denounces that which I love (namely Larkin)? And I do, too. I mean, talk to me when walking from History to Physics, two shitty classes in which I socially interact about as much as a blind and deaf Zen monk, and I'll be the most tender, loving guy you'll ever meet. Real self-conscious and embarrassed about little minor things, like tripping on something or dropping a book. I will be as docile as a damn kitten.
But take me at any moment, and tell me that Larkin's writing is an awkward combination of huge and useless archaic words, and I will instill the fear of God into you, no matter WHAT your mother fucking religionists have to say about it. I will do everything in my power to humiliate you in the most vulgar and crude way, while maintaining a constant witty and sarcastic demeanor that is SO caustic, it will, in the case of the KleinForums ass, dissolve your RETINAS and sear the eyelashes off your worthless, white trash face when you read it- and in person, I'm not going to beat you up (though don't fuck with me anyway, especially after denoting my love), but I will do far more than type a paragraph in your general direction - oh, be assured, my rage will lose none of its potency in the transition from the digital to the more humiliating physical reality. I wish to show no mercy whatsoever to the utterly tactless asshats of this world.
Heh. And said asshats will weep when they announce who the homecoming queen is.
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
And now, a few things I've scribbled in my little notebook over the past few days.
So this mosquito- he bit my eyelid.
Ha. Mrs.Jenkins is cool. Cool in that she finds ways to retort to her students that don't make her seem like an old woman. I think she longs to be extremely caustic and verbally abusive with her students as I often am with, well, pretty much everyone. I bet she has a very profane blog.
I guess I'm sick, or something. I hope it's not too hot outside when I mow. Heat exhaustion right before chamber rehearsal is no good. But hey! That'll cheer me up! Jazz and Starbucks! Sick and deliriously giddy, maybe. Stressed out and tense, even a little neurotic and unpleasant to other people, sure. But all of that becomes a silly annoyance - a mere mosquito on the prize elephant - when I realize I'm in love with the future homecoming queen.
...which I wrote the other day. Speaking of which, tomorrow is the voting for that. VOTE FOR HER!
Oh hey, I wrote this in the same notebook today to put on here:
Why the hell do people want kids? WHY? Not only do we have an exceedingly large population of little toddlers EVERYWHERE in the world, they're more annoyance than anything else! They use up all your income, get into trouble, and fuck up your social life. What money you don't spend on the happy little family you'll create will be spent on a babysitter, so you and the other person you've gotten ridiculously involved with this human breeding instinct, can get away from your own private hell for a night! You and your lover will no longer have fun when you're too busy cleaning up your infant's vomit. You'll become as many parents do - overstressed, overworked middle class American drones, supporting the nuclear family you'vealways wanted and taking all your troubles out on your spouse by bickering over dirty dishes and other trivial tasks.
So this mosquito- he bit my eyelid.
Ha. Mrs.Jenkins is cool. Cool in that she finds ways to retort to her students that don't make her seem like an old woman. I think she longs to be extremely caustic and verbally abusive with her students as I often am with, well, pretty much everyone. I bet she has a very profane blog.
I guess I'm sick, or something. I hope it's not too hot outside when I mow. Heat exhaustion right before chamber rehearsal is no good. But hey! That'll cheer me up! Jazz and Starbucks! Sick and deliriously giddy, maybe. Stressed out and tense, even a little neurotic and unpleasant to other people, sure. But all of that becomes a silly annoyance - a mere mosquito on the prize elephant - when I realize I'm in love with the future homecoming queen.
...which I wrote the other day. Speaking of which, tomorrow is the voting for that. VOTE FOR HER!
Oh hey, I wrote this in the same notebook today to put on here:
Why the hell do people want kids? WHY? Not only do we have an exceedingly large population of little toddlers EVERYWHERE in the world, they're more annoyance than anything else! They use up all your income, get into trouble, and fuck up your social life. What money you don't spend on the happy little family you'll create will be spent on a babysitter, so you and the other person you've gotten ridiculously involved with this human breeding instinct, can get away from your own private hell for a night! You and your lover will no longer have fun when you're too busy cleaning up your infant's vomit. You'll become as many parents do - overstressed, overworked middle class American drones, supporting the nuclear family you'vealways wanted and taking all your troubles out on your spouse by bickering over dirty dishes and other trivial tasks.
Monday, October 06, 2003
Sunday, October 05, 2003
This, my dear friends, is what I think about bitches.
JohnH778: JohnH778: stupid GOD DAMN people have to scream everywhere! it pisses me off
Givlmrak: seriously
JohnH778: I hate that so much
Givlmrak: annoys me a lot that they do it at a play
JohnH778: JohnH778: you'll be walking around in that brick hallway that has those bitch echo acoustics in it
JohnH778: and of course, right behind the fuckers, because they walk at about a foot per hour
Givlmrak: seriously
JohnH778: and one of the guys will, like, poke some girl
JohnH778: JohnH778: and one of the guys will, like, poke some girl
JohnH778: and she'll be like AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MOTHER FUCKER and scream and run around and flail her arms and hit you in the face, because you're right fucking behind her wanting to kick her in the knees for walking so slow
JohnH778: Givlmrak: you should do it someday
JohnH778: yes
JohnH778: just be like
JohnH778: WALK BITCHES BAM
JohnH778: right in the back of the knees
JohnH778: JohnH778: and when she falls down, I'll step on her
JohnH778: I'll step on the back of her fucking neck, and break it!
Givlmrak: hahaha
JohnH778: and that's what I think about bitches
JohnH778: you agree todd?
TBartkowiak: yes
TBartkowiak: grind her skull into the ground
JohnH778: yes]
I am physically fucked up, but emotionally, I'm more content than Sterling with a can of gasoline. Today, I mowed a couple lawns with Sterling and his dad, and made about 35 bucks. I would've done more, but they had some church shindig to be on time for, and I wasn't feeling too hot. Despite the huge amount of sleep I got last night, I was damn well near exhaustion, and not up for any more activities involving grass, huge dust clouds, and blowing one's nose with big leaves. I conclude that I may very well have had (and still do have) some stomach virus, because my intestines have been most disagreeable with me tonight. I mean, fucking ow. Perhaps it's unwise to eat two big beef tacos after eating about a pound of homemade sushi. Not that my pink dorado fishy wasn't all clean and shit.
Which draws me away from going to bed to tell about yesterday's adventures. Larkin picked me up from region rehearsal (I've got that shit every day except Monday now), and we went grocery shopping. Our goal was to buy some supplies, including a nice fresh fishy from the new seafood market on Louetta, and do what I've mused over for ages- make our own sushi.
And boy, did it kick ass. No one got botulism, and after only one failed batch of sushi rice (maybe the vent on the gas range isn't so good- you can't smell it when something's smoking), we had a beautiful collection of little nigiris, smoked salmon rolls, and veggie hand rolls, which we devoured by candelight whilst my mother ate her grilled cheese sandwich. You know it's fresh when you're picking fish scales out of your teeth.
Wow. I'm tired now. The allergy medicine will do that to you. So basically, today I mowed, inhaling thick clouds of dust making my kleenex black later on, and hung out with Larkin, having a wonderful time despite stomach pain.
JohnH778: JohnH778: stupid GOD DAMN people have to scream everywhere! it pisses me off
Givlmrak: seriously
JohnH778: I hate that so much
Givlmrak: annoys me a lot that they do it at a play
JohnH778: JohnH778: you'll be walking around in that brick hallway that has those bitch echo acoustics in it
JohnH778: and of course, right behind the fuckers, because they walk at about a foot per hour
Givlmrak: seriously
JohnH778: and one of the guys will, like, poke some girl
JohnH778: JohnH778: and one of the guys will, like, poke some girl
JohnH778: and she'll be like AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MOTHER FUCKER and scream and run around and flail her arms and hit you in the face, because you're right fucking behind her wanting to kick her in the knees for walking so slow
JohnH778: Givlmrak: you should do it someday
JohnH778: yes
JohnH778: just be like
JohnH778: WALK BITCHES BAM
JohnH778: right in the back of the knees
JohnH778: JohnH778: and when she falls down, I'll step on her
JohnH778: I'll step on the back of her fucking neck, and break it!
Givlmrak: hahaha
JohnH778: and that's what I think about bitches
JohnH778: you agree todd?
TBartkowiak: yes
TBartkowiak: grind her skull into the ground
JohnH778: yes]
I am physically fucked up, but emotionally, I'm more content than Sterling with a can of gasoline. Today, I mowed a couple lawns with Sterling and his dad, and made about 35 bucks. I would've done more, but they had some church shindig to be on time for, and I wasn't feeling too hot. Despite the huge amount of sleep I got last night, I was damn well near exhaustion, and not up for any more activities involving grass, huge dust clouds, and blowing one's nose with big leaves. I conclude that I may very well have had (and still do have) some stomach virus, because my intestines have been most disagreeable with me tonight. I mean, fucking ow. Perhaps it's unwise to eat two big beef tacos after eating about a pound of homemade sushi. Not that my pink dorado fishy wasn't all clean and shit.
Which draws me away from going to bed to tell about yesterday's adventures. Larkin picked me up from region rehearsal (I've got that shit every day except Monday now), and we went grocery shopping. Our goal was to buy some supplies, including a nice fresh fishy from the new seafood market on Louetta, and do what I've mused over for ages- make our own sushi.
And boy, did it kick ass. No one got botulism, and after only one failed batch of sushi rice (maybe the vent on the gas range isn't so good- you can't smell it when something's smoking), we had a beautiful collection of little nigiris, smoked salmon rolls, and veggie hand rolls, which we devoured by candelight whilst my mother ate her grilled cheese sandwich. You know it's fresh when you're picking fish scales out of your teeth.
Wow. I'm tired now. The allergy medicine will do that to you. So basically, today I mowed, inhaling thick clouds of dust making my kleenex black later on, and hung out with Larkin, having a wonderful time despite stomach pain.