Journal rLobster's Journal: a bludgeon of words 1
Sigh, things change, don't they? I mean, just when you start thinking someone is cool and open-source, something comes along that they try and shield you from (you know who you are, punk). It's a little jarring when someone takes a stand about something they think about passionately, and you think is irrelevant or idiotic. It's also a little disappointing to have these perfect glass ideals of kids you know shattered. Three people today, Polonius, three people! You kinda knew one, and the other to an extent, but this one is a shock! Well, right now 'tis. I look at you a little different tomorrow, but nothing really will change. It will just seem to. Life's like that, perception based. There is no universal truth, save God, who judges everything very exactly and very personally. This implies, of course, that boundaries cannot be drawn previous to any event, and all descisions before and after must be made by checking all possible outcomes against your own personal individual unchanging moral code. And I've gone off on another tangent. Did you know it's 11:24? I'm a little messed up. My bed is in the middle of the room, wanna know why? 'cause I put it there, so I'm gonna have to live with it.
Thank goodness for my girl, and for those fleeting moments of joy when music pours out of the folds of the universe...sigh, oh to unfinished products! How good I could be, so sayeth I, and look at the wonders! Many live under the impression that I accomplish...but show me what I have accomplished. Do not fool yourself, I am unfinised ideas, the bittersweet quality of life.
Tomorrow I'm going to wake up as soon as my alarm goes off because I want peope to think I'm a good, smart, neat, and still somehow unique person. My main inspiration is Rosie, who does it all without obey such strict alarm rules. I will shower, shave, apply other cleaning elements as I see fit, eat some lucky charms and possibly sleep on the bus. I might not sleep on the bus because I bought a 16 pack CVS AA batteries for $9 (don't dilute $8.99). When I get to school, I'll go to the comp lab and print some crap up and go to english. Nothing will happen in that class, 'cause nothing ever does. I swear that class is a suction for new thought. Creative will be a little uncomfortable, hiliting Rob's inner struggle between saying everything and saying nothing. Some cool stuff might happen, but most likely it will be focused on group work on our play, I have no idea what the hell we are actually going to do. I could do the entire thing myself, like all the other group projects, but we'll see. Then lunch and band, which are most often periods of blissful nuetrality: no requirements on my head except to eat and blast away at instruments. Parting for homeroom is such sweet sorrow, but harder until you finally pull that little bit further away from staying, like magnets. Then after homeroom, which is small talk about art or fiction with greg, or maybe listening to him go on about some NES game from 198234023 years ago. Then there's pre-calc, the hardest class of the day which is saying nothing, and is nothing, 'cause I'm Aceing the class. It's annoying, 'cause there's like real work and stuff, and "oh shit, I didn't do my homework", but it's mostly easy and a little boring, passing the time drawing mazes on my book cover (look in phantasm!). Then programing, which really sucks 'cause Mrs. C is the worst programming teacher ever. I'll print out the phantasm stuff from my email account ('cause I think floppy disks suck the little one (worse than the big one)), which might be kinda fun. After school I"m supposed to call about driving, and I'l end up sceduling for january or something rediculous 'cuse nothing's open, and dad'll be pissed, but then I'll be apathetic. Then there's play, which is taxing 'cause I can't sing, and annoying for that same reason. Rosie will be there, but she'll be working on singing or whatever, maybe with chris, which is like whatever but I can't chill with her. I'll probably think a lot of thursday to cheer me up. Rosie's mom is amazing. Anyways, I'll go home with something, who knows who, and eat dinner with my dad, maybe do homework or something else important like amusic or literature project. I'll try and convince myself that it'll all get done over break. I'll worry about service for a bit, then ask dad to call the people. He probably will (i won't cause I'm a pansy) and set something up for 1000 later, after they are due. I'll convince him to sign off for them even though they are done after the due date. Who cares, anyways? It's getting done. Worse comes to worse, I could fake one to sr. nancy, but I'm a pansy and might not do it anyways. Um.. then I'll chill until late at night, ya know, this insomnia vigil, dream about actually doing something with my poetic vision (never ever ever, 'cause I'm stupid and lazy and sloth), and then fall asleep reading something like the sun. Wow! Disturbingly like today!
Anyways, the point of that was, what does that tell you about me? Anything at all. I'm going to go and try to read myself to sleep. goodnight.
Thank goodness for my girl, and for those fleeting moments of joy when music pours out of the folds of the universe...sigh, oh to unfinished products! How good I could be, so sayeth I, and look at the wonders! Many live under the impression that I accomplish...but show me what I have accomplished. Do not fool yourself, I am unfinised ideas, the bittersweet quality of life.
Tomorrow I'm going to wake up as soon as my alarm goes off because I want peope to think I'm a good, smart, neat, and still somehow unique person. My main inspiration is Rosie, who does it all without obey such strict alarm rules. I will shower, shave, apply other cleaning elements as I see fit, eat some lucky charms and possibly sleep on the bus. I might not sleep on the bus because I bought a 16 pack CVS AA batteries for $9 (don't dilute $8.99). When I get to school, I'll go to the comp lab and print some crap up and go to english. Nothing will happen in that class, 'cause nothing ever does. I swear that class is a suction for new thought. Creative will be a little uncomfortable, hiliting Rob's inner struggle between saying everything and saying nothing. Some cool stuff might happen, but most likely it will be focused on group work on our play, I have no idea what the hell we are actually going to do. I could do the entire thing myself, like all the other group projects, but we'll see. Then lunch and band, which are most often periods of blissful nuetrality: no requirements on my head except to eat and blast away at instruments. Parting for homeroom is such sweet sorrow, but harder until you finally pull that little bit further away from staying, like magnets. Then after homeroom, which is small talk about art or fiction with greg, or maybe listening to him go on about some NES game from 198234023 years ago. Then there's pre-calc, the hardest class of the day which is saying nothing, and is nothing, 'cause I'm Aceing the class. It's annoying, 'cause there's like real work and stuff, and "oh shit, I didn't do my homework", but it's mostly easy and a little boring, passing the time drawing mazes on my book cover (look in phantasm!). Then programing, which really sucks 'cause Mrs. C is the worst programming teacher ever. I'll print out the phantasm stuff from my email account ('cause I think floppy disks suck the little one (worse than the big one)), which might be kinda fun. After school I"m supposed to call about driving, and I'l end up sceduling for january or something rediculous 'cuse nothing's open, and dad'll be pissed, but then I'll be apathetic. Then there's play, which is taxing 'cause I can't sing, and annoying for that same reason. Rosie will be there, but she'll be working on singing or whatever, maybe with chris, which is like whatever but I can't chill with her. I'll probably think a lot of thursday to cheer me up. Rosie's mom is amazing. Anyways, I'll go home with something, who knows who, and eat dinner with my dad, maybe do homework or something else important like amusic or literature project. I'll try and convince myself that it'll all get done over break. I'll worry about service for a bit, then ask dad to call the people. He probably will (i won't cause I'm a pansy) and set something up for 1000 later, after they are due. I'll convince him to sign off for them even though they are done after the due date. Who cares, anyways? It's getting done. Worse comes to worse, I could fake one to sr. nancy, but I'm a pansy and might not do it anyways. Um.. then I'll chill until late at night, ya know, this insomnia vigil, dream about actually doing something with my poetic vision (never ever ever, 'cause I'm stupid and lazy and sloth), and then fall asleep reading something like the sun. Wow! Disturbingly like today!
Anyways, the point of that was, what does that tell you about me? Anything at all. I'm going to go and try to read myself to sleep. goodnight.
An ode to floppys (Score:1)