No offense but how can you not believe in things that exist?
Saying you don't believe in love or monogamy or marriage is ridiculous. It's like saying you don't believe in the sun. Sorry but it's there and it's real. Maybe you don't believe in the sun because you've lived in Seattle all your life and never seen it or you had a bad experience and got a sunburn but the sun is still there. It still exists.
So I'm pretty sure I've got the same depression thing my mom has. Which is awesome. Not. I'm happy for two or two and a half weeks out of every month. Yay. I don't know. I'll go to the doctor and check it out.
Also, I am having a very had time getting back into the whole school thing. And the whole work thing. Not awesome.
In other news, speech on Thursday, two papers due on Tuesday (one I can turn in on Thurs but...speech), NaNo meetup on Wednesday (if I end up going), then NaNoWriMo starts. Big week coming up. Not excited anymore. The timing is bad and I CHOSE the day of my speech. Good job, me. Not.
Also, feeling alienated and like an outsider again. So, that's funny.
They are surprisingly good singers and with a little effort they could have made this a good video. Creepy and fucked up, but still good. I really liked the "Jesus is a Cunt" t-shirt.
I am getting more and more excited about NaNoWriMo. My 1667 words a day ends up being two and a half pages, single-spaced, in a 12 pt font. Which is less than a paper so I can do it.
i am way more stupidly excited than I probably should be.
in other news, I went to the doctor again to figure out why I want to sleep all the time... found out that my iron is extremely low, WITH iron supplements. so we are upping the dose and hopefully one of these days I can make it into work before 8.
So I'm watching Dirty Sexy Money right now. There was a reference to “The Italian Banker,” so I decided to look this up and to see what it entailed. In my not so successful searches I ended up on Wikipedia.
::
2007 9 October :: 12.34pm
:: Mood: nostalgic
:: Music: Radiohead - Let Down
So they are doing construction on campus, which is a major pain in the arse because it's right along the path I walk every day. Anyway, I was on my way to the Science Bldg. and I passed a construction worker sitting in the shade, relaxing and enjoying his lunch. I was immediately brought back to the summer of '01 working at Arrow Door, sitting outside with Chris, Fras, and Co. I remember jumping in line with everyone at the food cart outside, and the day Stashia and Christa brought us lunch. I hated that job, but sitting outside in the shade, cooling off from the stagnating heat in and outside the building, all the while savoring every last moment of freedom before returning to the floor, that's a fond memory.
No, that’s not enough. More, more. It’s important that you help me reinforce the stereotype of the sex-obsessed gay man who fucks compulsively and indiscriminately, thereby living an empty and hollow existence in which he is unable to love.
Any orifice will do. Oh, you have genital warts? That’s okay, I do too. And AIDS and every other STD imaginable, which are, of course, punishment for my immoral lifestyle.
You, over there. Yeah, you. You’ll do.
Are you straight? Yes? Shit, that’s great. The fact that you’re having sex with me permits me to brand you as a homosexual, a ‘closet case’ as it were. And everybody knows that the scientifically observed fact of sexuality being fluid and permitting a plethora of activity outside the bounds of standard heterosexuality is bullshit, so come out of the closet already, you fucking faggot.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your cock. As you ram it down my throat, it’s apparent to me that it’s not the act itself that turns me on, so much as the high I get from symbolically possessing aspects of a masculinity that I have denied in myself. For this we can surely blame my father, who never taught me to play baseball.
So now that you’re having sex with me and I’ve brought you down to my level, I can feel, if only for a moment, like being gay isn’t all that bad. As if it isn’t a behavior that I know deep in my soul to be unnatural and against the will of God.
That’s it, come in my mouth. Mmmm.
Okay, next! How about you? Oh, you’re gay? Whatever.
Hey, maybe we can devise some semblance of a mutual relationship, and pretend that we are in love? Perhaps this will provide a brief respite for the crushing knowledge that we are in fact uber-narcissistic man-children, forever slaves to a thumb-sucking mommy complex, and destined to die in loneliness and despair because we can never love anyone as much as we love ourselves?
Anyway, fuck me in the ass.
What—you’re putting on a condom? Jesus, you gotta be kidding me. Do you really think I respect my body and myself enough to want to protect myself from an STD that--heavens forefend--I don’t already possess?
Please. I would consider it an honor to receive your diseased meat and/or the toxic seed contained within. It would only hasten my departure from a world in which I attempt to normalize behaviors that are quite obviously unnatural, exhibiting a denial bordering on psychosis in which I do not see that men were given a penis and women a vagina for a reason, and that homosexual behavior violates the very fabric of human existence and the universe.
Harder, please. Also, keep calling me your cock-hungry fuck puppet. Your continued thrusting and hurling of insults only turns me on more. Oh, it may seem that we’re only role-playing, and the slaps you apply so generously to my face and ass are a fetishistic device used to enhance the sexual relations we are currently enjoying.
But we both know that your hatred is real, and what may seem like an innocent game is actually a serious expression of the hatred you feel for yourself, and my acceptance of this hatred hinges upon my sublimated desire to be punished for the sinful lifestyle that I have chosen, yes chosen, for myself.
Yeah, pump your load into my ass.
Isn’t it depressing to think of all that is wasted in the act we have just completed? Instead of taking part in the beautiful creation of life, we have instead resigned ourselves to a state of suspended adolescence in which we espouse the futile and vile notion that the gay lifestyle is somehow “normal” and “acceptable.”
Your precious seed of life has become little more than excrement, to be eventually shat out of my bowels and cast into the sewer, the sewer where our kind most assuredly belongs.
My brother called me earlier to tell me one of their new cats had died. The little cute one that would just chill on your shoulder.
I thought I was okay after I cried it out once but apparently I'm not. She was not gaining weight and Mom thinks she died of respiratory failure because she had a cold. My sister was at a friend's house and it was homecoming so they didn't tell her. And they haven't told her yet. Mom said she buried the cat, Hero, and will tell her on Sunday when she gets home.
Hannah had a rough time when we had to put McHenry to sleep and she loved this cat so I'll be up in Rockford tomorrow.
Pushing Daisies is a show you should watch if:
you have ovaries
you like Gilmore Girls
you like laughing
you like style
you need something to watch on Wednesdays because every other day is booked
you are worried about watching a new show too late (you can watch episodes you missed on abc.com)
you like Big Fish, Amelie, Edward Scissorhands, Wonderfalls or Wes Anderson
you are awesome
you are lame
I really like to show Dirty Sexy Money. Last night Kari and I have an AMAZING time out on the town. So many fun things, makes the hangover worth it. And I enjoy having a kitty.
For those of you who want to join my NaNoWriMo quest, go to the website (nanowrimo.org), sign up and add me (Angel_Bob). You'll get an adorable email and then we can make a party and start this thing.
I've decided I'm going to write my romance novel because it does not need to be very good.
I'm planning already. 50,000 words in 30 days is 1,666.66667 words a day. I've decided to plan it out the first two days so 50,000 words in 28 days is 1,785.71429 words a day. So if I start in on it the first day, I'll need about 1667 words a day but if I wait, I'll need 1786 words a day. For comparison, MLK's I have a dream speech has 1,601 words. And that's not that long at all.
I have decided to try NaNoWriMo this year. We shall see how it goes.. I don't get on the computer much but I guess I could hand write it like the olden days.
I am sadly excited to do it. It's like motivation.
Oh, in case you don't know, November is National Novel Writing Month. A bunch of people all sign up and pledge to write a novel from November 1-30. A novel being a 175-page/50,000-word piece of work.
It's always sounded fun but I've never been inspired to do it until now. Or wanted to. This semester is easy and I can always get rid of a few hours at work if need be.
This is exciting. I am stoked.
P.S. If anyone else wants to do it (Katti, Jessa) that would be awesome. Then we can all motivate each other.
Andy, I noticed a change in the saying. It is not cool. I loved you first. That bitch don't know shit.
In other news, I will not be able to go to Red Flannel for the first time in two years. Nick has to work which means Nick has the car. It wouldn't be the same without him anyway. This makes me sad. Red Flannel is the start of fall and I'd get to see Nick's parents.
Guys! Calm down, there’s enough back door access for everyone.
Jason would be proud of my coupon skills today. I spent $95.98 and my total savings was $49.
I ended up having to drive to Green Bay yesterday. My mom didn’t want to drive back, so I had to do a one way rental car and pick her up. She didn’t like the route that I was coming back, so I had to turn around and go her way. Needless to say, we got lost. And then she blames it on me. Grr.
Haven’t made an entry in a while so this might be a bit scattered.
Had my birthday thingie at grandparent’s place on Wednesday. Had some really good food and got some presents. Got a new monitor, card reader, MB club membership, and a Better Than Ezra CD.
Thoughts on the MTV music awards: The sound quality was shit, it kept cutting out. Britney has become an awful performer. She was in a sequined bikini and her gut was hanging out. She was dancing like she was drunk, the backup dancers were better. Sara Silverman is an awful comedian. There’s going to be a new Indiana Jones movie?
Went to Hay Days with the family. Lots of interesting people. Some neat snowmobiles too.
Had dad’s 50th birthday at Action City. Had a lot of fun with the whole family out on the go cart track. I’m surprised at how low the turnout was. More people showed up from my mom’s side of the family than my dad’s.
Linda is still in the hospital. They had to put her in a halo last week; I’ll be going down to visit next weekend.
