Down with Combat Ants!

There's really no information in this post that couldn't be obtained through the title.

Just sayin'.

EVERYONE WHO USES LIVEJOURNAL IS A PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE.

ESPECIALLY THE FERRETT.

No one uses lj anymore, and it sucks. I'm done with this journal.

To devote myself to my...myspace. FUCK.

I'm having fun. I am enjoying myself. Later suckas.

"Rather than delving further into experimentation or exploring their strengths, the world's most well-loved prog-metal band has made an...A Perfect Circle record."

Pitchfork Review: Tool - "10,000 Days" (5.9)

A highlight:
"I find myself in the awkward position of trying to sell you on the merits of a deeply uncool band by telling you to go buy their last album instead. But hey, the next time you're sneering at someone in a Tool shirt, just remember how retarded you look walking down the street with the words "The Boy Least Likely To" or "Clap Your Hands Say Yeah" across your chest."

I feel happy today.

Yay!

That is all.

So right. I get it. I got recognized for something I wrote. I won $100. Cool.

Why, then, do I feel like someone shit in my Cheerios?

Go fall in a well and die, you stupid bastard.

Last night my father decided to be a sneering, arrogant prick and ask me if I was going to waste his money by going to Eastern next year.

I want to tell him yes.

I'm back from Florida. We got home around 7:30 last night. We left Atlanta at around 5:30, though. It was a long drive, understandably.

The trip there was a mess. We get about five minutes past Bowling Green and the transmission cuts out. Not just a little bit. I mean it is completely and totally fried, or whatever the hell it is transmissions do when they decide to stop working forever. I pull out my ipod and try to ignore the pending meltdown from my father, but a funny thing happened. We rolled the car to a shitty motel that was nearby, my father grabbed a phone book and called up the first car dealership he found. He leased a brand new minivan. For two years. Over the phone. There are not many times I have felt true, genuine admiration for my father, but that was one of them. We threw all our stuff in this van and headed off as soon as we could, but by then it was like 8 and we lost a lot of time. We drove past midnight and got all the way to Lexington, so it wasn't all that bad. The car is still abandoned at some autoshop in Toledo. I think my father will go to pick it up soon.

The condo was pretty cool. It was warm. And sunny. Every day. So it was Florida, basically. Not much else to say about that. I swam in the ocean. Twice. It tastes bad, but I could float around in those waves every day of my life, it was so relaxing.

The whole thing was pretty relaxing, I guess. I started a story, but stopped as it wasn't very good. The story is awesome, and it's all in my head, it was just pretty poor execution. I'll start it again when I can get my mind around it.

Besides that, it was more or less uneventful. I did a lot of thinking, and I feel a lot better about being here. I started to miss this place by the end, and that's what a vacation is supposed to do, I think.

Oh, I got accepted to Eastern. Joy.

So yeah...Florida. Whoo.

I'll see everybody in a week and a half.

Uh...yeah.

I'm bringing a few dozen things to read, but eventually my ipod will run out of battery and I'll be forced to listen to my brother drone on and on and on, not to mention prevent my cousin from beating him to a pulp. I'm bringing a notebook to write some things down if I feel inspired. It's not often I feel inspired, really, but I figure the change in scenery might trigger something.

Besides that, there's the portable DVD player to watch old Family Guy episodes on. For 18 hours.

:-/

I'm suddenly not too goddamn excited about going to Florida. It feels like I'm missing something here, which is fucking hilarious because I never do anything anyway.

Story of my life. Seriously. I wrote it and everything.

My worst days now are way better than the mediocre moments of the best days I ever had before. But my slightly more than mediocre moments of before are probably worth more than the best days I have now. What I mean is it is not that I don't feel any better. It is that in general I just feel a whole lot less.

School is really easy. Sometimes it gets so easy I forget to try. Then school acts like it is hard, but it really isn't. When school acts like that, it's usually just getting too full of itself. If school gets too full of itself, it's usually best to talk things through. Ignoring it only makes the problem worse.

I have noticed a disturbing return of the slightly paranoid and self-concious me. I hadn't exactly beat him up and stuffed him into a closet, it was more a friendly agreement that he get the fuck out for a little while. I guess he got hungry, or something. Maybe we could find a way to work this out. Give and take. I'm fine with being a paranoid son of a bitch every once in a while, just not all the time man. Not when it counts. That isn't really the worst of it though. At least he means well. I am not exactly sure where this monstrous doppleganger came from, exactly, but it's safe to say that neither I nor the paranoid me like him very much. Sure he can have his moments, but he's always crossing that goddamn line, man. We all need to sit down and talk. Get things straight.

Today, while enjoying myself in Mr. Porter's SRT, I had an image of myself in the backyard of some old country house. The house wasn't mine, but it was filled with all of my things. Not to say they were things of mine, but they were lots of things I guess you could assosciate with me. Pictures of people I know, songs I had written, things like that. Anyway, I walked through this old country house into the backyard, where there was a giant bon-fire waiting for me. I took everything in the house and threw it in the fire. All the pictures, the journals, the notes, everything. I went back into the house, up to my room (which was mine for no other reason than there was no one else around) and took the bed, managing to throw it out the window and into the fire. Then I stood there, watching all these things of mine burn, and I smiled. I never said anything, I just stood there for a very long time smiling until the fire began to sting my eyes and they started to tear up. Even then, I didn't quit. I just kept smiling at that fire, that Old Red Flame.

It was an image that left me rather quickly. Then I read from my Government book.

My day was rather uninteresting, truth be told. I'd much rather keep it to myself.

*Dog Paddles*

God, Elder Scrolls IV is looking pretty damn hot. I've been checking out some screens and reviews for it, and it looks to be just about as good as everyone thought it would be.

Shit, I might have to load up Morrowind again to get my fix.

I need to do my AP Government paper but I have no idea what it's supposed to be about. I've been waiting for hours for someone to get on who could tell me, but so far it's no go. I am posting this in the hope that someone will see it tonight or something and can help me so I can write it quickly tomorrow morning during MEAPs. If not...shrug, I guess I can ask for an extension.

This is me rolling my eyes, by the way.

I think I'm going to go to bed, because I want to sleep through the night.

The whole thing.

bluewave0862: round 5....
bluewave0862: (and if i win, i make top 8)
bluewave0862: ...
bluewave0862: zoo.
bluewave0862: lol, i don't get a chance to blink.
bluewave0862: gets the mana he needs like a pro.
Keldae88: maybe he was cheating
bluewave0862: probz.
bluewave0862: he was like, 11.
Keldae88: I suspect all zoo players of cheating when they hit their mana

[edit]
bluewave0862: i just hate kokusho.
bluewave0862: in general.
bluewave0862: if i met him in real life
bluewave0862: i'd be really rude to him.
bluewave0862: and like
bluewave0862: tell him to give my fucking 5 life back.
[/edit]

My brother and I, we often eat dinner together in our cramped kitchen, while my sister and father are off at work and my mother is watching television in the next room. Most of the time we try to stab each other with forks, throw food at each other, or any other abusive act that is so common among brothers. Sometimes, though, we just sit and have a decent conversation. Like this one.

"Man, I don't know what to do." He tells me, looking sullenly at his spaghetti, twirling the noodles around his fork.

I look up from my plate, a little perplexed at this uncommon sign of general concern from my normally energetic and happy-go-lucky brother.

"Do about what Rob? What's the matter?"

He drops his fork and gives a little sigh, letting his shoulders hang.

"Well, this girl at my school I know broke up with my friend. But she's best friends with my girlfriend and now she's making my girlfriend sad all the time and she never wants to do anything with me anymore. I don't know what I'm going to do."

I laugh when I think about the social situations my brother gets into in the sixth grade. It all seems a little preposterous to me, to be honest.

"How exactly can you get so sad about a girlfriend in the sixth grade?" I ask him, about to make fun of him relentlessly for it.

At this he stiffens and picks up his fork. He says only one thing before going back to his food.

"You just wouldn't know because you've never had one."

I'm sitting here in the computer lab, trying to find the committee assignments for these dumb fucking senators and representatives from Michigan. The problem is, they'll give me tons of information on whatever shitty school they went to, and how each and every one of them was in law before becoming a congressman (frankly I don't think Debbie Stabenow is a woman, so whatever), but they can't tell me what their motherfucking committee assignment is. So I'm giving up.

Stupid Congress.

On a slightly kinder note...nope, nevermind. I don't feel like being kind. I do, however, feel like getting the hell out of this computer lab.

Those crazy bastards over at essentialmagic.com decided to make me a mod. I guess they think that I am friendly and responsible. Whatever gave them that idea? :)

Because I was born to be an artist.

Life is nothing but experience. Experience of ideas. Words. Pictures. Places.

But I live to express them. I need to express them.

I want to be a musician.

And a writer.

A painter.

A sculptor.

A photographer.

A lover.

Because I think love is the greatest expression we could ever come across. Above all it is the art that eludes me. It is the expression that commands my thoughts, and drives my being. It is why I wake up in the morning. Why I wait to fall asleep at night.