08 December 2006
Please lower your voice 7:52 PM
I just added a Shoutbox to this website, you'll find it in the sidebar. Feel free to fill it with nonsensical ramblings. Or decent messages directed to me, those are nice too.
06 December 2006
Twiddle, Diddle, and Piddle (with a fiddle in the middle) 10:04 PM
All that to say that I'm losing my inspiration to keep this blog up. I feel my writing has become rather cliche, what with all these angsty feelings that I need to get off my chest and out to the world through my writing so that others can read my blog and label me emo so that I can write a rebuttal and verbally kick their butts through my convincing and witty discourses.
Breathe in, breathe out.
All seriousness aside, I'm not saying that I'm going to go on an indefinite hiatus, neither am I saying that I'm shutting this site down or giving up on writing. I'll never give up on writing, just like I'll never give up tabasco sauce. But I need to regain my motivation and inspiration, and I need to finish my blog's new and simplistic look.
But I have been having a harder time coming up with things to write about, and what little great ideas pop into my head (POP!) are usually lost to the big chaotic void that is my mind.
I need my caffeine fix. I know it's Liquid Satan, but sometimes sin is very tempting.
So I'll just here and play with my three new little best friends, Twiddle, Diddle, and Piddle. We'll brainstorm hot new posts and waste a lot of time that way.
On a lighter note, caramel popcorn is a travesty. Avoid like I avoid Marianne. Which basically means you should hide whenever you see it.
Breathe in, breathe out.
All seriousness aside, I'm not saying that I'm going to go on an indefinite hiatus, neither am I saying that I'm shutting this site down or giving up on writing. I'll never give up on writing, just like I'll never give up tabasco sauce. But I need to regain my motivation and inspiration, and I need to finish my blog's new and simplistic look.
But I have been having a harder time coming up with things to write about, and what little great ideas pop into my head (POP!) are usually lost to the big chaotic void that is my mind.
I need my caffeine fix. I know it's Liquid Satan, but sometimes sin is very tempting.
So I'll just here and play with my three new little best friends, Twiddle, Diddle, and Piddle. We'll brainstorm hot new posts and waste a lot of time that way.
On a lighter note, caramel popcorn is a travesty. Avoid like I avoid Marianne. Which basically means you should hide whenever you see it.
03 December 2006
One Step Further 3:28 PM
"I tried."
I don't think I could utter a more bitter sentence. When you come face to face with yourself, admitting that you're a failure is never easy. I stared long and hard at the glaring eyes in the mirror, but they only betrayed what I knew to be true. "You're a masterpiece, a beautiful farce", they stated. I squinted and shook my head violently. Never! Perish the thought. I tried to tell them who I really was, but I had no answer.
Who am I?
I ask this question from the depths of my familiar insanity. In all eccentricity, who am I deep inside? I wish I could laugh it off, I wish I could make it go away. I created a little world for me, I blurred the lines between reality and fiction. Reality is so painful, I escaped it but now I can't understand it. Reality, my old enemy, only allows me enough time to rise to my feet before it knocks me down with a cackle.
But I am so goddamn stubborn. I can never give in, I can never let it win. I'll flail my arms wildly and grasp at any lifeline, I'll throw punches at the largest of all monsters; though my energy is sapped, though I breathed my last breath ages ago.
See me through the eyes of this world and it's people. I am a stranger here. I cannot fit in, not even with professed eccentrics. I laugh and they smile. I open my mouth and they listen. But all their interest is pretentious, all their love is fake, their masks make me afraid, and their plastic smiles haunt me.
I believed in you. You never failed to let me down. I continued to hope, I continued to put my trust in you. You must know this, you must enjoy watching me fall, you must enjoy watching me suffer and bleed. You take advantage of my simple faith, innocence and naiveness. You profess to love me, you say "Come, we will care for you." But now I'm disgusted with you. I don't know if I'll ever break free from your cruel grasp. You have me chained to you through simple hope, through the dream that one day you will change. But all I've ever known you to be is abusive. You've wounded me beyond belief, you've tortured me with glee, and you hardly realize, you could hardly care. I love you and I don't know why; you, humanity.
I thirst for true love, and while I know the location of the source, I have failed to open the floodgates. I beat these gates, I screamed at them to open; I held lonely vigils next to them, hoping that they will have mercy on me. It was then that I realized that I was the one who held the key, and yet I refused to open the gates; for I feared I would drown. I did not tend to my wounds, for I was afraid of the initial sting. But now, I clench that key; I grit my teeth as I let that healing balm sear my skin and close my wounds.
There's a beautiful place not too far from here, one can reach it two ways: honorably, or dishonorably. The easiest way out is dishonorable, and it holds it's temptation. But when looked at in perspective, I'd rather live in pain and die a hero than die a coward and live in shame.
There is a light that shines through the darkness, and I follow. I have nothing else. If my existence is worth anything, if I can rise above the mockery that I am, it will have been because I've followed that light.
I've been stripped bare. Any coverings I throw over myself are seared by that light. Anything I hold on too tightly to becomes ashes before me. The light is jealous, it will have no other cheap imitations before me. I mourn these things, but I must continue. The light will not wait.
You may ask, why do I follow that light, seeing as it costs me everything? Because that light is everything. Anything else is worthless. They're all trinkets, fit only for the fire. That light is my comfort, it is my strength, it is my refuge, it is clarity in a world of insanity.
Every step I take leads me further into pain; every new path is rife with yet more obstacles. I hold not in high regard what I am, but what I shall become when this life is over. If I can endure yet another step, then maybe, just maybe, I have become that man.
Complete the work you have started, Lord. Forgive my reluctance. Forgive my hesitation. I tried, but I tried on my own, in my weak and failing flesh. I can see that you love me, for you've poured so much into me, and put love and patience into my breakings. Now, as I watch you work, I can only anticipate the results.
I don't think I could utter a more bitter sentence. When you come face to face with yourself, admitting that you're a failure is never easy. I stared long and hard at the glaring eyes in the mirror, but they only betrayed what I knew to be true. "You're a masterpiece, a beautiful farce", they stated. I squinted and shook my head violently. Never! Perish the thought. I tried to tell them who I really was, but I had no answer.
Who am I?
I ask this question from the depths of my familiar insanity. In all eccentricity, who am I deep inside? I wish I could laugh it off, I wish I could make it go away. I created a little world for me, I blurred the lines between reality and fiction. Reality is so painful, I escaped it but now I can't understand it. Reality, my old enemy, only allows me enough time to rise to my feet before it knocks me down with a cackle.
But I am so goddamn stubborn. I can never give in, I can never let it win. I'll flail my arms wildly and grasp at any lifeline, I'll throw punches at the largest of all monsters; though my energy is sapped, though I breathed my last breath ages ago.
See me through the eyes of this world and it's people. I am a stranger here. I cannot fit in, not even with professed eccentrics. I laugh and they smile. I open my mouth and they listen. But all their interest is pretentious, all their love is fake, their masks make me afraid, and their plastic smiles haunt me.
I believed in you. You never failed to let me down. I continued to hope, I continued to put my trust in you. You must know this, you must enjoy watching me fall, you must enjoy watching me suffer and bleed. You take advantage of my simple faith, innocence and naiveness. You profess to love me, you say "Come, we will care for you." But now I'm disgusted with you. I don't know if I'll ever break free from your cruel grasp. You have me chained to you through simple hope, through the dream that one day you will change. But all I've ever known you to be is abusive. You've wounded me beyond belief, you've tortured me with glee, and you hardly realize, you could hardly care. I love you and I don't know why; you, humanity.
I thirst for true love, and while I know the location of the source, I have failed to open the floodgates. I beat these gates, I screamed at them to open; I held lonely vigils next to them, hoping that they will have mercy on me. It was then that I realized that I was the one who held the key, and yet I refused to open the gates; for I feared I would drown. I did not tend to my wounds, for I was afraid of the initial sting. But now, I clench that key; I grit my teeth as I let that healing balm sear my skin and close my wounds.
There's a beautiful place not too far from here, one can reach it two ways: honorably, or dishonorably. The easiest way out is dishonorable, and it holds it's temptation. But when looked at in perspective, I'd rather live in pain and die a hero than die a coward and live in shame.
There is a light that shines through the darkness, and I follow. I have nothing else. If my existence is worth anything, if I can rise above the mockery that I am, it will have been because I've followed that light.
I've been stripped bare. Any coverings I throw over myself are seared by that light. Anything I hold on too tightly to becomes ashes before me. The light is jealous, it will have no other cheap imitations before me. I mourn these things, but I must continue. The light will not wait.
You may ask, why do I follow that light, seeing as it costs me everything? Because that light is everything. Anything else is worthless. They're all trinkets, fit only for the fire. That light is my comfort, it is my strength, it is my refuge, it is clarity in a world of insanity.
Every step I take leads me further into pain; every new path is rife with yet more obstacles. I hold not in high regard what I am, but what I shall become when this life is over. If I can endure yet another step, then maybe, just maybe, I have become that man.
Complete the work you have started, Lord. Forgive my reluctance. Forgive my hesitation. I tried, but I tried on my own, in my weak and failing flesh. I can see that you love me, for you've poured so much into me, and put love and patience into my breakings. Now, as I watch you work, I can only anticipate the results.
One Step Further 3:28 PM
"I tried."
I don't think I could utter a more bitter sentence. When you come face to face with yourself, admitting that you're a failure is never easy. I stared long and hard at the glaring eyes in the mirror, but they only betrayed what I knew to be true. "You're a masterpiece, a beautiful farce", they stated. I squinted and shook my head violently. Never! Perish the thought. I tried to tell them who I really was, but I had no answer.
Who am I?
I ask this question from the depths of my familiar insanity. In all eccentricity, who am I deep inside? I wish I could laugh it off, I wish I could make it go away. I created a little world for me, I blurred the lines between reality and fiction. Reality is so painful, I escaped it but now I can't understand it. Reality, my old enemy, only allows me enough time to rise to my feet before it knocks me down with a cackle.
But I am so goddamn stubborn. I can never give in, I can never let it win. I'll flail my arms wildly and grasp at any lifeline, I'll throw punches at the largest of all monsters; though my energy is sapped, though I breathed my last breath ages ago.
See me through the eyes of this world and it's people. I am a stranger here. I cannot fit in, not even with professed eccentrics. I laugh and they smile. I open my mouth and they listen. But all their interest is pretentious, all their love is fake, their masks make me afraid, and their plastic smiles haunt me.
I believed in you. You never failed to let me down. I continued to hope, I continued to put my trust in you. You must know this, you must enjoy watching me fall, you must enjoy watching me suffer and bleed. You take advantage of my simple faith, innocence and naiveness. You profess to love me, you say "Come, we will care for you." But now I'm disgusted with you. I don't know if I'll ever break free from your cruel grasp. You have me chained to you through simple hope, through the dream that one day you will change. But all I've ever known you to be is abusive. You've wounded me beyond belief, you've tortured me with glee, and you hardly realize, you could hardly care. I love you and I don't know why; you, humanity.
I thirst for true love, and while I know the location of the source, I have failed to open the floodgates. I beat these gates, I screamed at them to open; I held lonely vigils next to them, hoping that they will have mercy on me. It was then that I realized that I was the one who held the key, and yet I refused to open the gates; for I feared I would drown. I did not tend to my wounds, for I was afraid of the initial sting. But now, I clench that key; I grit my teeth as I let that healing balm sear my skin and close my wounds.
There's a beautiful place not too far from here, one can reach it two ways: honorably, or dishonorably. The easiest way out is dishonorable, and it holds it's temptation. But when looked at in perspective, I'd rather live in pain and die a hero than die a coward and live in shame.
There is a light that shines through the darkness, and I follow. I have nothing else. If my existence is worth anything, if I can rise above the mockery that I am, it will have been because I've followed that light.
I've been stripped bare. Any coverings I throw over myself are seared by that light. Anything I hold on too tightly to becomes ashes before me. The light is jealous, it will have no other cheap imitations before me. I mourn these things, but I must continue. The light will not wait.
You may ask, why do I follow that light, seeing as it costs me everything? Because that light is everything. Anything else is worthless. They're all trinkets, fit only for the fire. That light is my comfort, it is my strength, it is my refuge, it is clarity in a world of insanity.
Every step I take leads me further into pain; every new path is rife with yet more obstacles. I hold not in high regard what I am, but what I shall become when this life is over. If I can endure yet another step, then maybe, just maybe, I have become that man.
Complete the work you have started, Lord. Forgive my reluctance. Forgive my hesitation. I tried, but I tried on my own, in my weak and failing flesh. I can see that you love me, for you've poured so much into me, and put love and patience into my breakings. Now, as I watch you work, I can only anticipate the results.
I don't think I could utter a more bitter sentence. When you come face to face with yourself, admitting that you're a failure is never easy. I stared long and hard at the glaring eyes in the mirror, but they only betrayed what I knew to be true. "You're a masterpiece, a beautiful farce", they stated. I squinted and shook my head violently. Never! Perish the thought. I tried to tell them who I really was, but I had no answer.
Who am I?
I ask this question from the depths of my familiar insanity. In all eccentricity, who am I deep inside? I wish I could laugh it off, I wish I could make it go away. I created a little world for me, I blurred the lines between reality and fiction. Reality is so painful, I escaped it but now I can't understand it. Reality, my old enemy, only allows me enough time to rise to my feet before it knocks me down with a cackle.
But I am so goddamn stubborn. I can never give in, I can never let it win. I'll flail my arms wildly and grasp at any lifeline, I'll throw punches at the largest of all monsters; though my energy is sapped, though I breathed my last breath ages ago.
See me through the eyes of this world and it's people. I am a stranger here. I cannot fit in, not even with professed eccentrics. I laugh and they smile. I open my mouth and they listen. But all their interest is pretentious, all their love is fake, their masks make me afraid, and their plastic smiles haunt me.
I believed in you. You never failed to let me down. I continued to hope, I continued to put my trust in you. You must know this, you must enjoy watching me fall, you must enjoy watching me suffer and bleed. You take advantage of my simple faith, innocence and naiveness. You profess to love me, you say "Come, we will care for you." But now I'm disgusted with you. I don't know if I'll ever break free from your cruel grasp. You have me chained to you through simple hope, through the dream that one day you will change. But all I've ever known you to be is abusive. You've wounded me beyond belief, you've tortured me with glee, and you hardly realize, you could hardly care. I love you and I don't know why; you, humanity.
I thirst for true love, and while I know the location of the source, I have failed to open the floodgates. I beat these gates, I screamed at them to open; I held lonely vigils next to them, hoping that they will have mercy on me. It was then that I realized that I was the one who held the key, and yet I refused to open the gates; for I feared I would drown. I did not tend to my wounds, for I was afraid of the initial sting. But now, I clench that key; I grit my teeth as I let that healing balm sear my skin and close my wounds.
There's a beautiful place not too far from here, one can reach it two ways: honorably, or dishonorably. The easiest way out is dishonorable, and it holds it's temptation. But when looked at in perspective, I'd rather live in pain and die a hero than die a coward and live in shame.
There is a light that shines through the darkness, and I follow. I have nothing else. If my existence is worth anything, if I can rise above the mockery that I am, it will have been because I've followed that light.
I've been stripped bare. Any coverings I throw over myself are seared by that light. Anything I hold on too tightly to becomes ashes before me. The light is jealous, it will have no other cheap imitations before me. I mourn these things, but I must continue. The light will not wait.
You may ask, why do I follow that light, seeing as it costs me everything? Because that light is everything. Anything else is worthless. They're all trinkets, fit only for the fire. That light is my comfort, it is my strength, it is my refuge, it is clarity in a world of insanity.
Every step I take leads me further into pain; every new path is rife with yet more obstacles. I hold not in high regard what I am, but what I shall become when this life is over. If I can endure yet another step, then maybe, just maybe, I have become that man.
Complete the work you have started, Lord. Forgive my reluctance. Forgive my hesitation. I tried, but I tried on my own, in my weak and failing flesh. I can see that you love me, for you've poured so much into me, and put love and patience into my breakings. Now, as I watch you work, I can only anticipate the results.
17 November 2006
Forsaken 8:41 PM
"Glassy eyes staring up at an unfeeling ceiling, a limp body under a heavy blanket, the pain of a reluctant return to a world he can't escape etched on his face; a picture he'd never want anyone to see."
I gazed nostalgically at pictures of her today. I don't know why the hell I do that to myself. I remember waking up one night feverishly whispering her name. I almost wish she would break down my door, kick me to the ground and scream "It's over, it's over, it's over, you stubborn fool!" I might get it then.
I'm glad for anything that takes my mind off her; coming here has done me good. There's so much I can do for others, for myself, for the Lord, for the world, when I'm not wasting time thinking of her.
Everything around me seems to beckon me to tear it up, throw it around; every beautiful thing reminds me of her and makes me want to scream. If there's anything I cannot afford to lose, it's my self-control. Thank God for bringing me here, thank God there are only occasional memories to deal with.
But I wonder, will she ever leave? Why did it turn out this way, Lord? I know you know best, but why her? Why did you give her to me and then take her away? Why Lord, are there lonely days and nights, no tears, only hidden pain; why can't I feel you the way I did before?
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani; why hast thou forsaken me?"
I gazed nostalgically at pictures of her today. I don't know why the hell I do that to myself. I remember waking up one night feverishly whispering her name. I almost wish she would break down my door, kick me to the ground and scream "It's over, it's over, it's over, you stubborn fool!" I might get it then.
I'm glad for anything that takes my mind off her; coming here has done me good. There's so much I can do for others, for myself, for the Lord, for the world, when I'm not wasting time thinking of her.
Everything around me seems to beckon me to tear it up, throw it around; every beautiful thing reminds me of her and makes me want to scream. If there's anything I cannot afford to lose, it's my self-control. Thank God for bringing me here, thank God there are only occasional memories to deal with.
But I wonder, will she ever leave? Why did it turn out this way, Lord? I know you know best, but why her? Why did you give her to me and then take her away? Why Lord, are there lonely days and nights, no tears, only hidden pain; why can't I feel you the way I did before?
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani; why hast thou forsaken me?"
15 November 2006
Oi! 11:33 PM
Look at that post title. Let's face it. I'm friking tired.
But guess what? I love this area! People here are really chill. Yes indeed.
OK, bye-bye short and pointless sentences. I just felt obligated to put up a little something-something so you'll all know that I'm still alive and care about this lonely little corner of cyberspace. Except that I don't write as well when I feel obligated to write. Or when I'm tired. Which I always am, so please go ahead and excuse me for all the posts in this blog. Or excuse me for the entire blog. That would be nice.
You see, I wake up early here, 7:30 a.m. Back home I wake up at ten. Notice the difference? But it's all good, 'cause I'm breaking the bad habit of waking up late. But that's not the only bad habit I'm breaking.
I like it here because I'm learning, because if I slip out of line I get loving correction, and because that means I'll grow and change for the better.
It's all good, really.
But guess what? I love this area! People here are really chill. Yes indeed.
OK, bye-bye short and pointless sentences. I just felt obligated to put up a little something-something so you'll all know that I'm still alive and care about this lonely little corner of cyberspace. Except that I don't write as well when I feel obligated to write. Or when I'm tired. Which I always am, so please go ahead and excuse me for all the posts in this blog. Or excuse me for the entire blog. That would be nice.
You see, I wake up early here, 7:30 a.m. Back home I wake up at ten. Notice the difference? But it's all good, 'cause I'm breaking the bad habit of waking up late. But that's not the only bad habit I'm breaking.
I like it here because I'm learning, because if I slip out of line I get loving correction, and because that means I'll grow and change for the better.
It's all good, really.
31 October 2006
Wait and See 5:58 PM
I'm moving to Toronto. Allow me to expound further.
I've been invited to join an FD home on the outskirts of Toronto. I say outskirts because almost every time I insinuate that they are ("they" being the Torontinians...Oops. Excuse me.) living in Toronto they kindly remind me that they are not living in Toronto per se, but that they are living in the outskirts, urban area, name-of-the-municipality-that-I-can't-remember. Oh, for God's sake.
Anyway, I'm writing this to explain my absence and the lack of verbiage here. I don't know how I'll manage to keep this site updated, much less finalize the template I'm working on. That all depends on how I manage my time when I get there. I know many people in my position might excuse themselves by saying that they won't have enough time, but I don't buy it. We all have a way of making time for the things we love doing; I simply love writing. I'd even venture to say that I've been born with a passion for words and the vivid pictures they paint, the vicarious stories they tell, the thoughts and emotions they express, the way they stir us up, change us, and change the world.
So what will become of this, my creative writing outlet? I suppose we'll have to wait and see.
I've been invited to join an FD home on the outskirts of Toronto. I say outskirts because almost every time I insinuate that they are ("they" being the Torontinians...Oops. Excuse me.) living in Toronto they kindly remind me that they are not living in Toronto per se, but that they are living in the outskirts, urban area, name-of-the-municipality-that-I-can't-remember. Oh, for God's sake.
Anyway, I'm writing this to explain my absence and the lack of verbiage here. I don't know how I'll manage to keep this site updated, much less finalize the template I'm working on. That all depends on how I manage my time when I get there. I know many people in my position might excuse themselves by saying that they won't have enough time, but I don't buy it. We all have a way of making time for the things we love doing; I simply love writing. I'd even venture to say that I've been born with a passion for words and the vivid pictures they paint, the vicarious stories they tell, the thoughts and emotions they express, the way they stir us up, change us, and change the world.
So what will become of this, my creative writing outlet? I suppose we'll have to wait and see.
25 October 2006
Uncharacteristic Secrecy From a Soul Who Told Everything 6:32 PM
I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. I don't want to hurt you. You see, I like you.
I really like you.
I really like you.
20 October 2006
Delirium 12:49 PM
It's amazing what conclusions one can draw, it's amazing what things we see, it's amazing what sudden clarity bursts through like sunlight; all under the influence of deliruim.
But I'm rambling.
You see, I hate being sick. It makes me feel...incompetent. Plus, laying down and sleeping the day away is for weaklings. (It's strange how when I am healthy, I shun work, and when I am sick, I seek it.)
In between convulsive shivering and the clenching of my teeth and blanket, came dreams, and these dreams came true. Revelation in delirium.
It's nothing like the feeling I get when I'm intoxicated, everything is so hi-goddamn-larious then. No, everything is blurry, but in a much more serious sense. Like taking morphine.
I can remember back then. I was a little eight-year-old with dilated pupils. Lambchop and Barney held such fascination for me; but that plastic lion that dangled from the hospital bed never wanted to come down and play. I stared for hours at the pin that pierced through my leg, wondering why it wouldn't hurt me.
I could sit in this corner all day, not moving; my eyes fixed on something, and yet nothing, my body cold and my mind numb. And in the far reccesses of my mind, I'll be working, fast and furiously, on thoughts that I have dismissed as the product of a sad, cold, and lonely state of mind. I am my greatest critic.
Something has creeped up behind me. It's a heavy and warm feeling. It bids me to close my eyes. It bids me to go to sleep.
I cannot give in.
But I'm rambling.
You see, I hate being sick. It makes me feel...incompetent. Plus, laying down and sleeping the day away is for weaklings. (It's strange how when I am healthy, I shun work, and when I am sick, I seek it.)
In between convulsive shivering and the clenching of my teeth and blanket, came dreams, and these dreams came true. Revelation in delirium.
It's nothing like the feeling I get when I'm intoxicated, everything is so hi-goddamn-larious then. No, everything is blurry, but in a much more serious sense. Like taking morphine.
I can remember back then. I was a little eight-year-old with dilated pupils. Lambchop and Barney held such fascination for me; but that plastic lion that dangled from the hospital bed never wanted to come down and play. I stared for hours at the pin that pierced through my leg, wondering why it wouldn't hurt me.
I could sit in this corner all day, not moving; my eyes fixed on something, and yet nothing, my body cold and my mind numb. And in the far reccesses of my mind, I'll be working, fast and furiously, on thoughts that I have dismissed as the product of a sad, cold, and lonely state of mind. I am my greatest critic.
Something has creeped up behind me. It's a heavy and warm feeling. It bids me to close my eyes. It bids me to go to sleep.
I cannot give in.
17 October 2006
HI! (I'm 18!) 1:40 PM
I found this at a friend's blog; she took this clip after Gid and I had run around in a storm. Call it a birthday present, or whatever.
Yeah, that's me.
As a sidenote, I turn 18 today, and I'm feeling good about being an "adult".
Look out, world, 'cause I'm a big kid now.
12 October 2006
Two Twelvemonths of Total Timewasting 9:24 PM
The 11th of this month marked the second anniversary of this website, a feat that probably only 30% of current Family bloggers can testify to have obtained.
Well yay for me.
I know most bloggers would say, "Well, to celebrate this blogging milestone, here's a present for you.", and they'll give you some nifty link to some nifty something. However, I don't have the time to go search for a nifty something for nifty you, so I'll just continue to try to make this site a better place for you, the dear reader. Civil comments and suggestions are always welcome (unless I'm in a dark mood), and so to avoid having random and yet helpful comments posted in irrelevant places in this site, I will set up a shoutbox as a means for you to quickly and effectively communicate with me.
I'll have you know, though, that change is in the air, and there is a major possibility that I'll be moving homes soon, so I don't know how much time I'll have to attend this site.
And once again, yay for me.
Well yay for me.
I know most bloggers would say, "Well, to celebrate this blogging milestone, here's a present for you.", and they'll give you some nifty link to some nifty something. However, I don't have the time to go search for a nifty something for nifty you, so I'll just continue to try to make this site a better place for you, the dear reader. Civil comments and suggestions are always welcome (unless I'm in a dark mood), and so to avoid having random and yet helpful comments posted in irrelevant places in this site, I will set up a shoutbox as a means for you to quickly and effectively communicate with me.
I'll have you know, though, that change is in the air, and there is a major possibility that I'll be moving homes soon, so I don't know how much time I'll have to attend this site.
And once again, yay for me.
09 October 2006
Erg 8:06 PM
Sometimes I frustrate myself.
I've had quite a few ideas for a new design for this site. But every time I attempt one, it's either hard to code or looks like crap.
I'm just gonna make some minor changes. To hell with all the rest, I'm not willing to devote too much of my precious time to redesign this site.
I've had quite a few ideas for a new design for this site. But every time I attempt one, it's either hard to code or looks like crap.
I'm just gonna make some minor changes. To hell with all the rest, I'm not willing to devote too much of my precious time to redesign this site.
05 October 2006
I don't like titles. Because I'm uncreative. Because I'm tired. Because I stayed up late. Because I was masturbating. Because I was horny. 10:13 PM
I dont't like titles.
29 September 2006
Crikey! 10:07 PM
Rest in peace, Steve Irwin. You and your crazy ways will be missed.
(As a sidenote, the look on my face is meant to show struggle, not rough intercourse. I don't want to see any "ha ha, your SHAGGING the croc!!11LOL" sort of comments. Keep your sick thoughts to yourself.)
09 September 2006
The Whys and Wherefores of The Lack of Word on Wordstock 3 6:54 PM
Some keen readers might obverse that I still haven't written anything about Wordstock 3 up until this date. Why? Well, there's a good reason why, in fact, there are several.
First off, a good synopsis of Wordstock 3 can be found here. Retelling these events is trite in my opinion, plus I'm too lazy to even outline a six day camp.
Secondly, my recollections of Wordstock are pretty hazy. I know that I moshed wildly, saw a lot of people, lost at every sport I played, and acted in a stage play. Actually, I do remember the toilet stalls pretty well, which brings me to my third point.
Lastly, I was sick for the entire duration of Wordstock 3. I could keep very little food down, therefore I was undernourished, therefore I lacked strength and energy, therefore I wasn't my usual happy self, therefore I didn't socialize as much, therefore I did not enjoy Wordstock 3 to the full. All for a damn virus.
On the bright side, the concerts rocked, the nurse was nice, people liked my acting in the stage play, and the attention I got because of my condition was pleasant. See, there's good in everything.
First off, a good synopsis of Wordstock 3 can be found here. Retelling these events is trite in my opinion, plus I'm too lazy to even outline a six day camp.
Secondly, my recollections of Wordstock are pretty hazy. I know that I moshed wildly, saw a lot of people, lost at every sport I played, and acted in a stage play. Actually, I do remember the toilet stalls pretty well, which brings me to my third point.
Lastly, I was sick for the entire duration of Wordstock 3. I could keep very little food down, therefore I was undernourished, therefore I lacked strength and energy, therefore I wasn't my usual happy self, therefore I didn't socialize as much, therefore I did not enjoy Wordstock 3 to the full. All for a damn virus.
On the bright side, the concerts rocked, the nurse was nice, people liked my acting in the stage play, and the attention I got because of my condition was pleasant. See, there's good in everything.
02 September 2006
H.O.T. Camp 7:51 PM
Firstly, I'll explain the title. H.O.T. stands for Hold On To Your Crown, however, evidently, the last two letters were omitted so that the camp acronym could conform to the three letter tradition of our area's summer JT camps.
Now the facilities were, in my opinion, the best we've had so far. The chalet we stayed in resembled a giant chicken coop, the interior of which maintained the same theme. The lake out front provided us with kayaking, sailboating, and the occasional teeth-chattering swim.
Our camp guide, Hugo, was an amiable and humorous man with many talents, including acrobatic style dancing and sailboat piloting (for a time I was convinced that his purpose in bringing us sailboating was so he could tip us into the water or knock us over the head with he called "the BOOM". The gleam in his eye wasn't reassuring either).
The classes were convicting, as always, and the skits added a comical touch (except for the two skits I acted in, those were just embarrassing). As for the inspiration, it inspired, and the contributions of two new musicians, Amy and Laila, was a refreshing change (except for the few songs I played, that was just embarrassing).
The dance night went pleasantly well, and yes, I did go streaking after that. My original idea was to run through the dance floor butt naked while the strobe light was on, but a few minutes after my genius had concocted this idea, the strobe light was shut and the room was lit. Running nude through a forest path in the dark was thrilling, however, the sharp pebbles, lack of light and shoes, and the fact that I couldn't shout for fear of discovery, did dampen it slightly. I'm just glad I didn't trip.
Pictures should be posted soon, sadly, I'll have to leech off my friends photos since I took none of my own. My mom did bring a digital camera, and for a moment I was elated, until I discovered the memory card more-than-half full and the batteries more-than-half dead.
Now the facilities were, in my opinion, the best we've had so far. The chalet we stayed in resembled a giant chicken coop, the interior of which maintained the same theme. The lake out front provided us with kayaking, sailboating, and the occasional teeth-chattering swim.
Our camp guide, Hugo, was an amiable and humorous man with many talents, including acrobatic style dancing and sailboat piloting (for a time I was convinced that his purpose in bringing us sailboating was so he could tip us into the water or knock us over the head with he called "the BOOM". The gleam in his eye wasn't reassuring either).
The classes were convicting, as always, and the skits added a comical touch (except for the two skits I acted in, those were just embarrassing). As for the inspiration, it inspired, and the contributions of two new musicians, Amy and Laila, was a refreshing change (except for the few songs I played, that was just embarrassing).
The dance night went pleasantly well, and yes, I did go streaking after that. My original idea was to run through the dance floor butt naked while the strobe light was on, but a few minutes after my genius had concocted this idea, the strobe light was shut and the room was lit. Running nude through a forest path in the dark was thrilling, however, the sharp pebbles, lack of light and shoes, and the fact that I couldn't shout for fear of discovery, did dampen it slightly. I'm just glad I didn't trip.
Pictures should be posted soon, sadly, I'll have to leech off my friends photos since I took none of my own. My mom did bring a digital camera, and for a moment I was elated, until I discovered the memory card more-than-half full and the batteries more-than-half dead.
01 September 2006
24 August 2006
My Sentiments Exactly 9:33 PM
We look before and after,-Percy Bysshe Shelley, To a Skylark
And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
23 August 2006
Lest I Forget 9:14 PM
When you are such a big part of someone's life, they never forget you, not even when you leave. A little part of you will always be a little part of them. A little part of you will always be a part of me.
What shall I say? There are certain things in this life I don't deserve, certain things I will never have; you were one of them. I never really blamed you, though. If I stop and ponder, I'll find that I bring all this upon myself.
Burn me, you said, but I drowned you instead. You fluttered out of my grasp as the dark depths swallowed you; alas, I have never shed a tear. Rest in peace, my love, hold my cracked heart of stone on this rocky floor, lie and gaze as diffused sunrays tickle the currents.
I deliver my eulogy in loving memory of what was, in fond appreciation for this gift you've given me, in triumph because of the better man you've made me, in quiet remembrance; lest I forget.
What shall I say? There are certain things in this life I don't deserve, certain things I will never have; you were one of them. I never really blamed you, though. If I stop and ponder, I'll find that I bring all this upon myself.
Burn me, you said, but I drowned you instead. You fluttered out of my grasp as the dark depths swallowed you; alas, I have never shed a tear. Rest in peace, my love, hold my cracked heart of stone on this rocky floor, lie and gaze as diffused sunrays tickle the currents.
I deliver my eulogy in loving memory of what was, in fond appreciation for this gift you've given me, in triumph because of the better man you've made me, in quiet remembrance; lest I forget.
Lest I Forget 9:14 PM
When you are such a big part of someone's life, they never forget you, not even when you leave. A little part of you will always be a little part of them. A little part of you will always be a part of me.
What shall I say? There are certain things in this life I don't deserve, certain things I will never have; you were one of them. I never really blamed you, though. If I stop and ponder, I'll find that I bring all this upon myself.
Burn me, you said, but I drowned you instead. You fluttered out of my grasp as the dark depths swallowed you; alas, I have never shed a tear. Rest in peace, my love, hold my cracked heart of stone on this rocky floor, lie and gaze as diffused sunrays tickle the currents.
I deliver my eulogy in loving memory of what was, in fond appreciation for this gift you've given me, in triumph because of the better man you've made me, in quiet remembrance; lest I forget.
What shall I say? There are certain things in this life I don't deserve, certain things I will never have; you were one of them. I never really blamed you, though. If I stop and ponder, I'll find that I bring all this upon myself.
Burn me, you said, but I drowned you instead. You fluttered out of my grasp as the dark depths swallowed you; alas, I have never shed a tear. Rest in peace, my love, hold my cracked heart of stone on this rocky floor, lie and gaze as diffused sunrays tickle the currents.
I deliver my eulogy in loving memory of what was, in fond appreciation for this gift you've given me, in triumph because of the better man you've made me, in quiet remembrance; lest I forget.
20 August 2006
I put the "pro" in "procrastination" 11:23 AM
I did have a little something something for you all about the HOT Camp I attended; but right now I'm entering a different camp, an MC/OC one of which I am god, class giver, inspirationalist, skit member, photographer, and team captain. Pray that the little guys won't eat me alive. Please.
Once that is over, I will be posting a post and some pictures of our JT camp, and then maybe a post and some pictures of this MC/OC one. Yes, I realize I haven't posted anything about Wordstock yet. You can spank me now.
Once that is over, I will be posting a post and some pictures of our JT camp, and then maybe a post and some pictures of this MC/OC one. Yes, I realize I haven't posted anything about Wordstock yet. You can spank me now.
11 August 2006
Of Critics and Toilets 6:36 PM
No one comments anymore. Why? Because they're either critics or toilets. But hey, it was worse when they were "anonymous cowards" or "blemishes".
Take no offense to the titles I have given you, they are meant in an affectionate way. Unless, of course, you are here to disagree with me, in which case you are a Toilet Critic.
(My current titles are actually parodies of the argumentative and better-than-you attitudes and style of many bloggers nowadays. And yes, I'm better than you. No? PROVE IT.)
Take no offense to the titles I have given you, they are meant in an affectionate way. Unless, of course, you are here to disagree with me, in which case you are a Toilet Critic.
(My current titles are actually parodies of the argumentative and better-than-you attitudes and style of many bloggers nowadays. And yes, I'm better than you. No? PROVE IT.)
My Pre-Attack Plan 4:25 PM
Only one more day and counting. Sunday the 13th marks the day of the beginning of this year's JETT/Teen camp. There's not much word on the exact location of our chalet, but so far I've heard it's a 20 minute walk from the campground parking lot, and that the chalet is powered by generators.
It sounds like it's really out there in the boondocks. Which is great, really, I'm not complaining. All it means is more room and privacy for me to lead David's Mighty Men on a streaking campaign like last year. (I hope my camp shepherds don't read this blog.) Eh heh.
I'm also planning carefully constructed and witty antics for our dear camera man this year. God bless him, he's like the all-seeing eye or an invisible companion. He's captured many of my embarrassing moments and immortalized them with his little digital device. After that, his minions of evil (a.k.a. my friends) have traveled and brought their camp DVDs to others' homes, where antics such as picking my nose, choking out a rap song, accosting the camera man for the name of the camp, and dancing a drunken jig have soiled my reputation.
The difference is that this year I will keep a wary eye out for that Sneaky of all Sneakies, and only throw him some tasty morsels when I see fit. Now all I need to accomplish this is a good dose of will power and concentration, but I think my reserves are empty.
If all goes well, I should have some pictures and a bit to say about the camp after it's over.
It sounds like it's really out there in the boondocks. Which is great, really, I'm not complaining. All it means is more room and privacy for me to lead David's Mighty Men on a streaking campaign like last year. (I hope my camp shepherds don't read this blog.) Eh heh.
I'm also planning carefully constructed and witty antics for our dear camera man this year. God bless him, he's like the all-seeing eye or an invisible companion. He's captured many of my embarrassing moments and immortalized them with his little digital device. After that, his minions of evil (a.k.a. my friends) have traveled and brought their camp DVDs to others' homes, where antics such as picking my nose, choking out a rap song, accosting the camera man for the name of the camp, and dancing a drunken jig have soiled my reputation.
The difference is that this year I will keep a wary eye out for that Sneaky of all Sneakies, and only throw him some tasty morsels when I see fit. Now all I need to accomplish this is a good dose of will power and concentration, but I think my reserves are empty.
If all goes well, I should have some pictures and a bit to say about the camp after it's over.
03 August 2006
Sun in the Fun 10:57 PM
I've been having too much fun this summer, which means I've also been too busy this summer, hence the lack of new humor and tragedy here.
Now just before you yell "Yay! Something new and more coming soon!", I'll let you know that I'm still busy with my summer fun. There's a JETT/Teen camp happening this August, so while that will keep me busy for the next two weeks (fundraising and such) until it takes place, it'll be something to write about.
That's not to say I've run out of creativity, heck no, I've got a line of new material trying to push it's way out of my mind and onto the computer. I even stand the risk of not remembering all that I want to write.
Another reason for the lack of spanking new posts is that I'm planning to redesign this site. I probably won't make many changes, but I've been itching to get in and change some things that I dislike about this site.
Now just before you yell "Yay! Something new and more coming soon!", I'll let you know that I'm still busy with my summer fun. There's a JETT/Teen camp happening this August, so while that will keep me busy for the next two weeks (fundraising and such) until it takes place, it'll be something to write about.
That's not to say I've run out of creativity, heck no, I've got a line of new material trying to push it's way out of my mind and onto the computer. I even stand the risk of not remembering all that I want to write.
Another reason for the lack of spanking new posts is that I'm planning to redesign this site. I probably won't make many changes, but I've been itching to get in and change some things that I dislike about this site.
18 July 2006
06 July 2006
Send Timmy 10:09 PM
I was just waiting for all the hoopla to die down so I could have a chance to revive it again. (Actually, I just plain old forgot to link to and advertise this website. Sorry, Timmy.)
Timmy Raveney (and let's not forget Jason Pair) are part of a hardcore band know as DEO, and being that I had the chance to lose myself in their music, I'm promoting this site so that the Europeans at Eurock can get a taste of this good stuff, and so Timmy and Jason can have fun doing their thing.
Pull out your piggy banks, people, we need to send Timmy.
Timmy Raveney (and let's not forget Jason Pair) are part of a hardcore band know as DEO, and being that I had the chance to lose myself in their music, I'm promoting this site so that the Europeans at Eurock can get a taste of this good stuff, and so Timmy and Jason can have fun doing their thing.
Pull out your piggy banks, people, we need to send Timmy.
03 July 2006
This Is No Excuse 10:57 PM
If you blog, there has been a time when you've had to post something to the effect of, "I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while or regularly, it's because I (insert excuse here)." But I don't think I'll excuse myself this time, my sole purpose in life is not to update this site.
I've been busy. Now when I say busy, I don't mean I've become addicted to playing Solitaire so that I don't have time to update, or just too lazy to write something up. I mean busy.
"Ok, you're busy. With what?" Life, you twit. And more recently, moving houses. That's right, I pick 'em up, park them on my back, and carry them all over Canada. It's tiring. Speaking of tired, I remember hearing that lack of sleep can hamper your creativity to the point that you resort to lame and cliche jokes. Eh heh heh. (Now it would be unpatriotic of me if I didn't say something about Canada Day, so, uh, I really liked the fireworks.)
These past two days, I've been occupied with carting things around, sweeping, packing, and organizing. Of course, I did take breaks to sing opera in the back of the empty truck, ride a bicycle down the truck ramp, and fix a faulty vacuum cleaner (funny story, really. My sister asks me to fix it, and with a sarcastic tone and manner, I plug it in and kick the power button. The vacuum responds with a sudden surge and loud forced humming. I've got the healing touch.)
Our house is still full of boxes and overturned furniture. As a matter of fact, I'm writing this on the hastily set-up computer I put in a corner of the floor of my parents' room. This is giving me a neck ache, I'm already sore from all the moving. To heck with this, I'm done.
I've been busy. Now when I say busy, I don't mean I've become addicted to playing Solitaire so that I don't have time to update, or just too lazy to write something up. I mean busy.
"Ok, you're busy. With what?" Life, you twit. And more recently, moving houses. That's right, I pick 'em up, park them on my back, and carry them all over Canada. It's tiring. Speaking of tired, I remember hearing that lack of sleep can hamper your creativity to the point that you resort to lame and cliche jokes. Eh heh heh. (Now it would be unpatriotic of me if I didn't say something about Canada Day, so, uh, I really liked the fireworks.)
These past two days, I've been occupied with carting things around, sweeping, packing, and organizing. Of course, I did take breaks to sing opera in the back of the empty truck, ride a bicycle down the truck ramp, and fix a faulty vacuum cleaner (funny story, really. My sister asks me to fix it, and with a sarcastic tone and manner, I plug it in and kick the power button. The vacuum responds with a sudden surge and loud forced humming. I've got the healing touch.)
Our house is still full of boxes and overturned furniture. As a matter of fact, I'm writing this on the hastily set-up computer I put in a corner of the floor of my parents' room. This is giving me a neck ache, I'm already sore from all the moving. To heck with this, I'm done.
29 June 2006
FAQ 9:07 PM
What does your website title mean? And why "lynC"?
I had a hard time coming up with a title for this site (I have a hard time making up my mind), but since most of my ideas had a "c" word in them, I decided to merge all my ideas and call it "the capital C". My "c" fascination started when a friend of mine spelled "nice" with a capital c, and that pretty much triggered the habit to write my "c's" in uppercase. The name "lynC" stemmed from an earlier self-given nickname "link", which has different interpretations, but the most prominent are:
1. A torch formerly used for lighting one's way in the streets (fire is kickass).
2. A connecting element; a tie or bond.
I altered the spelling to match this site, and thus the current alias.
Does anyone else work on this site?
No, I do all the writing, layout, coding, and images.
Good stuff. Can I link to your site?
Go ahead. As an incentive for the doubtful, you'll receive an autographed photo of my naked butt if you do.
LOL!!!!11 r u serius @ the butt thing?
No.
Why are you so anal about proper spelling?
becuz im perfekt ad perfekt ppl alweys spel corecktly. All seriousness aside, proper spelling and grammar are an essential part of good writing. I love writing, so I'm going to do it right.
Do you love me?
Are you one of the following?:
Then the answer is yes!
If you had to choose a theme song for your life, what would it be?
"Through It All".
Got a (decent) question relevant to this site that you'd like to see answered here? Write me at lynkedd @ gmail dot com (remove spaces).
I had a hard time coming up with a title for this site (I have a hard time making up my mind), but since most of my ideas had a "c" word in them, I decided to merge all my ideas and call it "the capital C". My "c" fascination started when a friend of mine spelled "nice" with a capital c, and that pretty much triggered the habit to write my "c's" in uppercase. The name "lynC" stemmed from an earlier self-given nickname "link", which has different interpretations, but the most prominent are:
1. A torch formerly used for lighting one's way in the streets (fire is kickass).
2. A connecting element; a tie or bond.
I altered the spelling to match this site, and thus the current alias.
Does anyone else work on this site?
No, I do all the writing, layout, coding, and images.
Good stuff. Can I link to your site?
Go ahead. As an incentive for the doubtful, you'll receive an autographed photo of my naked butt if you do.
LOL!!!!11 r u serius @ the butt thing?
No.
Why are you so anal about proper spelling?
becuz im perfekt ad perfekt ppl alweys spel corecktly. All seriousness aside, proper spelling and grammar are an essential part of good writing. I love writing, so I'm going to do it right.
Do you love me?
Are you one of the following?:
Then the answer is yes!
If you had to choose a theme song for your life, what would it be?
"Through It All".
Got a (decent) question relevant to this site that you'd like to see answered here? Write me at lynkedd @ gmail dot com (remove spaces).
22 June 2006
Mr. Nice Guy 8:52 PM
Trapped in this stuffy armor, this armor that I willingly put on for protection against the world, I breathed a suffocated prayer.
A prayer against frustration, a prayer against anger, a prayer for patience, a prayer for compassion, a prayer for peace.
Lord help me.
19 June 2006
My Father 9:10 PM
Since Father's Day was yesterday, I feel like I should take a moment to acknowledge one of the world's greatest dads. Now I know most of us think our dads are the greatest, but in this case, what I mean is that he's the greatest to me. I wouldn't have any other man to be my father.
My father takes time to enjoy life. I've got great memories of playing with him as a kid, and one thing I admire about him is that he's never too busy or grown-up to take the time to play with and give attention to his children.
My father is sacrificial, almost to a fault. Putting others' needs and comfort above his own has been his creed ever since I can remember, and I want to be just like him in that regard.
My father is understanding. There's hardly anything I can't talk to him about. He normally takes things in stride, and his candid comments after a talk are always an added relief.
My father has a simple sense of humor. In his almost distracted way he's pulled off funnies that have become classics in my hall of comedy.
My father has a true love for the people he lives and works with. Whenever we move to a new country, he does his best to learn the language, customs, and manner of the people there. He truly becomes one.
There's much more I could say about him, but for the sake of brevity, I'll end here.
Jerry, you're the best dad for me. I'm sorry for those times when I made life difficult for you, when my pride got in the way, and when you had to deal with my eccentric, rebellious, and bad attitudes. But all in all, I'm proud to have a dad like you, and I count it a privilege and an honor to be your son.
My father takes time to enjoy life. I've got great memories of playing with him as a kid, and one thing I admire about him is that he's never too busy or grown-up to take the time to play with and give attention to his children.
My father is sacrificial, almost to a fault. Putting others' needs and comfort above his own has been his creed ever since I can remember, and I want to be just like him in that regard.
My father is understanding. There's hardly anything I can't talk to him about. He normally takes things in stride, and his candid comments after a talk are always an added relief.
My father has a simple sense of humor. In his almost distracted way he's pulled off funnies that have become classics in my hall of comedy.
My father has a true love for the people he lives and works with. Whenever we move to a new country, he does his best to learn the language, customs, and manner of the people there. He truly becomes one.
There's much more I could say about him, but for the sake of brevity, I'll end here.
Jerry, you're the best dad for me. I'm sorry for those times when I made life difficult for you, when my pride got in the way, and when you had to deal with my eccentric, rebellious, and bad attitudes. But all in all, I'm proud to have a dad like you, and I count it a privilege and an honor to be your son.
15 June 2006
Biting the Bullet 11:36 PM
"Just one of life's little misfortunes. But who could have seen it coming? I should have, after all, I'm walking in circles."
This thought ran through my head as I felt myself being flung toward the toilet seat. Emptying the contents of my stomach had become a morbid and dreaded ritual these past days. As I sat there a little dazed, a salty taste came to my mouth. My sweat and tears had come together to mix with the stomach acid in my mouth. Another liquid dripped it's way to my lips, and I could almost see the scarlet drop forming in the corner of my right nostril.
Closing my eyes, I saw myself kneeling over a small tombstone. The air was chilly, and the grey and lonely cemetery offered little comfort. My fingers brushed the inscription as I said goodbye to a hope, a dream, a foolish fantasy. I nurtured this hope, I watched it grow. I awoke with it every morning and tucked it in with me every night. I cradled it as it drew it's last breath. As I turned to leave, a mournful chorus rung in my ears, as the angels sang a cold and broken Hallelujah.
"This should hurt. This should sting. This should deal me a gaping wound. I've grown so numb, my level of endurance has climbed so high. Pain makes better people, stronger people."
I came back to reality just as my stomach tightened and my face contorted. As I stared at the lime green acid swimming in the bowl below me, scenes came to mind, scenes I didn't care to remember.
Ignorance is bliss. You couldn't have seen me, not even if you had looked my way. You couldn't have heard me, no, not even if I had screamed bloody murder. Lost in your passion, you failed to see the boy who looked your way, and wondered why. A polite smile masked his feelings, and each day seemed worse than the last. And yet the offenders continued on, blissful in their ignorance.
"Life is a strange thing, it pulls so many new twists and turns that one moment you're standing on firm ground with a perfect sense of direction, and the next you're falling to your knees in a disoriented state of mind."
And now here I am. Cold, dirty, sick, and broken; sitting in a grimy toilet stall with tears streaming down my face. I am pathetic.
And yet somehow, I'm still standing. Yet somehow, with this pain comes equal amounts of grace. Forgiveness has replaced any bitterness I would have kept within; I've placed another's happiness above my own. I know I won't be trudging in circles forever.
I've turned to Him, and now, I've found peace.
This thought ran through my head as I felt myself being flung toward the toilet seat. Emptying the contents of my stomach had become a morbid and dreaded ritual these past days. As I sat there a little dazed, a salty taste came to my mouth. My sweat and tears had come together to mix with the stomach acid in my mouth. Another liquid dripped it's way to my lips, and I could almost see the scarlet drop forming in the corner of my right nostril.
Closing my eyes, I saw myself kneeling over a small tombstone. The air was chilly, and the grey and lonely cemetery offered little comfort. My fingers brushed the inscription as I said goodbye to a hope, a dream, a foolish fantasy. I nurtured this hope, I watched it grow. I awoke with it every morning and tucked it in with me every night. I cradled it as it drew it's last breath. As I turned to leave, a mournful chorus rung in my ears, as the angels sang a cold and broken Hallelujah.
"This should hurt. This should sting. This should deal me a gaping wound. I've grown so numb, my level of endurance has climbed so high. Pain makes better people, stronger people."
I came back to reality just as my stomach tightened and my face contorted. As I stared at the lime green acid swimming in the bowl below me, scenes came to mind, scenes I didn't care to remember.
Ignorance is bliss. You couldn't have seen me, not even if you had looked my way. You couldn't have heard me, no, not even if I had screamed bloody murder. Lost in your passion, you failed to see the boy who looked your way, and wondered why. A polite smile masked his feelings, and each day seemed worse than the last. And yet the offenders continued on, blissful in their ignorance.
"Life is a strange thing, it pulls so many new twists and turns that one moment you're standing on firm ground with a perfect sense of direction, and the next you're falling to your knees in a disoriented state of mind."
And now here I am. Cold, dirty, sick, and broken; sitting in a grimy toilet stall with tears streaming down my face. I am pathetic.
And yet somehow, I'm still standing. Yet somehow, with this pain comes equal amounts of grace. Forgiveness has replaced any bitterness I would have kept within; I've placed another's happiness above my own. I know I won't be trudging in circles forever.
I've turned to Him, and now, I've found peace.
Biting the Bullet 11:36 PM
"Just one of life's little misfortunes. But who could have seen it coming? I should have, after all, I'm walking in circles."
This thought ran through my head as I felt myself being flung toward the toilet seat. Emptying the contents of my stomach had become a morbid and dreaded ritual these past days. As I sat there a little dazed, a salty taste came to my mouth. My sweat and tears had come together to mix with the stomach acid in my mouth. Another liquid dripped it's way to my lips, and I could almost see the scarlet drop forming in the corner of my right nostril.
Closing my eyes, I saw myself kneeling over a small tombstone. The air was chilly, and the grey and lonely cemetery offered little comfort. My fingers brushed the inscription as I said goodbye to a hope, a dream, a foolish fantasy. I nurtured this hope, I watched it grow. I awoke with it every morning and tucked it in with me every night. I cradled it as it drew it's last breath. As I turned to leave, a mournful chorus rung in my ears, as the angels sang a cold and broken Hallelujah.
I came back to reality just as my stomach tightened and my face contorted. As I stared at the lime green acid swimming in the bowl below me, scenes came to mind, scenes I didn't care to remember.
Ignorance is bliss. You couldn't have seen me, not even if you had looked my way. You couldn't have heard me, no, not even if I had screamed bloody murder. Lost in your passion, you failed to see the boy who looked your way, and wondered why. A polite smile masked his feelings, and each day seemed worse than the last. And yet the offenders continued on, blissful in their ignorance.
"Life is a strange thing, it pulls so many new twists and turns that one moment you're standing on firm ground with a perfect sense of direction, and the next you're falling to your knees in a disoriented state of mind."
And now here I am. Cold, dirty, sick, and broken; sitting in a grimy toilet stall with tears streaming down my face. I am pathetic.
And yet somehow, I'm still standing. Yet somehow, with this pain comes equal amounts of grace. Forgiveness has replaced any bitterness I would have kept within; I've placed another's happiness above my own. I know I won't be trudging in circles forever.
I've turned to Him, and now, I've found peace.
This thought ran through my head as I felt myself being flung toward the toilet seat. Emptying the contents of my stomach had become a morbid and dreaded ritual these past days. As I sat there a little dazed, a salty taste came to my mouth. My sweat and tears had come together to mix with the stomach acid in my mouth. Another liquid dripped it's way to my lips, and I could almost see the scarlet drop forming in the corner of my right nostril.
Closing my eyes, I saw myself kneeling over a small tombstone. The air was chilly, and the grey and lonely cemetery offered little comfort. My fingers brushed the inscription as I said goodbye to a hope, a dream, a foolish fantasy. I nurtured this hope, I watched it grow. I awoke with it every morning and tucked it in with me every night. I cradled it as it drew it's last breath. As I turned to leave, a mournful chorus rung in my ears, as the angels sang a cold and broken Hallelujah.
I came back to reality just as my stomach tightened and my face contorted. As I stared at the lime green acid swimming in the bowl below me, scenes came to mind, scenes I didn't care to remember.
Ignorance is bliss. You couldn't have seen me, not even if you had looked my way. You couldn't have heard me, no, not even if I had screamed bloody murder. Lost in your passion, you failed to see the boy who looked your way, and wondered why. A polite smile masked his feelings, and each day seemed worse than the last. And yet the offenders continued on, blissful in their ignorance.
"Life is a strange thing, it pulls so many new twists and turns that one moment you're standing on firm ground with a perfect sense of direction, and the next you're falling to your knees in a disoriented state of mind."
And now here I am. Cold, dirty, sick, and broken; sitting in a grimy toilet stall with tears streaming down my face. I am pathetic.
And yet somehow, I'm still standing. Yet somehow, with this pain comes equal amounts of grace. Forgiveness has replaced any bitterness I would have kept within; I've placed another's happiness above my own. I know I won't be trudging in circles forever.
I've turned to Him, and now, I've found peace.
06 June 2006
Triple Six 7:01 PM
6-6-06. Today.
Six hundred and sixty-six, a number of pure evil, the devil's own, the number that helped me differentiate between the good guys and the bad guys in the Kidz Mop and other related publications.
Now this 666 seems to be quite the topic today. I checked the news just earlier and they were talking about it, crazy 666 celebrations are going to be underway (they're having a party in Hell), and most people are blogging about it.
But really, I was more interested in the 4th of May 2006, when at one point the time and date was as follows: 01:02:03 04.05.06 To me, that's more of a kickass patern, wouldn't you say? It seems that no one has anything interesting to blog about today.
But then again, neither do I.
I don't think any major events will happen, so don't hold your breath. As far as I know, this 666 business could turn out to be another Y2K situation (yeah, stock up on food and supplies, we're ALL GONNA DIE!!). Heh, Y2K...See, that was funny.
Six hundred and sixty-six, a number of pure evil, the devil's own, the number that helped me differentiate between the good guys and the bad guys in the Kidz Mop and other related publications.
Now this 666 seems to be quite the topic today. I checked the news just earlier and they were talking about it, crazy 666 celebrations are going to be underway (they're having a party in Hell), and most people are blogging about it.
But really, I was more interested in the 4th of May 2006, when at one point the time and date was as follows: 01:02:03 04.05.06 To me, that's more of a kickass patern, wouldn't you say? It seems that no one has anything interesting to blog about today.
But then again, neither do I.
I don't think any major events will happen, so don't hold your breath. As far as I know, this 666 business could turn out to be another Y2K situation (yeah, stock up on food and supplies, we're ALL GONNA DIE!!). Heh, Y2K...See, that was funny.
02 June 2006
The Many Faces of Sexy 5:27 PM
You know those vain posts in which people post pictures of their faces, all in different angles and poses?
Yeah, those.
Now before I begin, I realize that these pictures could ruin my reputation, so let me take a moment to say that I'm uglier in person.
To make this post slightly educational, I'm going to give a safety awareness illustration of what not to do with electrical sockets.
Don't stick your finger in them.
Bad things could happen. Very bad things.
Oh, my disclaimer: Warning! A scary picture of me may follow, if you're easily frightened, now would be a good time to go hide under your mommy's dress. And Buffy, you know where to find me.
POW!
Yeah, those.
Now before I begin, I realize that these pictures could ruin my reputation, so let me take a moment to say that I'm uglier in person.
To make this post slightly educational, I'm going to give a safety awareness illustration of what not to do with electrical sockets.
Don't stick your finger in them.
Bad things could happen. Very bad things.
Oh, my disclaimer: Warning! A scary picture of me may follow, if you're easily frightened, now would be a good time to go hide under your mommy's dress. And Buffy, you know where to find me.
POW!
23 May 2006
Home Again 10:45 PM
I'm tired.
Wordstock III did a number on me, and as much as I miss EVERYONE (no, not EVERYONE), I'm just glad to be back.
I can still see the faces of my siblings when I walked through the back door. I know they missed me as much as I missed them. Monty and Sammy got a haircut, Danny has a potbelly, and Gabriel is slightly heavier. It seems Jeanne D'arc hasn't changed.
I'm tired. I feel slovenly and dirty, and washing the sticky lolipop liquid on my arm is out of the question, since it would also wash away "Kisses, Leila." I hope Leila appreciates the lack of hygiene my arm will receive in order to preserve her manuscript.
As some of you may have already guessed, no, I didn't keep a log. I'll just have to write about Wordstock and the trip there and back by calling on my memory banks. Expect some posts on the aforementioned topics sometime soon.
I'm tired.
Wordstock III did a number on me, and as much as I miss EVERYONE (no, not EVERYONE), I'm just glad to be back.
I can still see the faces of my siblings when I walked through the back door. I know they missed me as much as I missed them. Monty and Sammy got a haircut, Danny has a potbelly, and Gabriel is slightly heavier. It seems Jeanne D'arc hasn't changed.
I'm tired. I feel slovenly and dirty, and washing the sticky lolipop liquid on my arm is out of the question, since it would also wash away "Kisses, Leila." I hope Leila appreciates the lack of hygiene my arm will receive in order to preserve her manuscript.
As some of you may have already guessed, no, I didn't keep a log. I'll just have to write about Wordstock and the trip there and back by calling on my memory banks. Expect some posts on the aforementioned topics sometime soon.
I'm tired.
01 May 2006
Woodstock, Wordstock...Wordstock, Woodstock...How cleverly subtle. 6:27 PM
Ignore that, I just don't understand why the WOC didn't use my idea of calling it "Word-fun-music-food-fellowship-sizzling-hot-'thank-you-Jesus-for-them'-
girls-sports-convicting-and-challenging-classes-Stock". Speaking of the WOC, have you noticed that there's an OC conspiracy in all this? I mean, WordstOCk, EurOCk, wOC, rOCk, sOCks, etc...Wait, I'd better stop right there. The OCs will harm me for this exposure.
On a happier note (I am very excited, I'm smiling real big, I'm jumping on my bed and my hands are flailing...Oops, I need to pee), I must tell you all that I will be attending Wordstock 2006. HOORAY!
At the same time, I am reminded of the last two years when I did not attend Wordstock. Reading Broadband was like torture to me, it basically screamed "Look what you missed!" Oh, wait, it did say that, didn't it? I wrote down my thoughts here and there, and I understand what those of you who are unable to attend this year's Wordstock are going through. But let's take it with a positive attitude, guys (I should have), the Lord pulled me through (and gave me the opportunity to attend this year), and I know He'll do the same for you.
I'm having a real problem with the whole packing thing, though. I dislike packing, it gives me headaches, like the one I have now. And the weather down there isn't something I'm looking forward to either, but I have a plan, I'm going to travel down in a giant icebox.
I'll begin my journey to the land of hot weather and cowboys in four days, if you could please pray for all to go well and according to plan, and also for protection and provision, I'd be very much obliged. I'll try (emphasis on "try", this plan seems to always fall through) to keep a brief log of my journey and Wordstock. When I get back I'll try to post most of it, but don't expect any updates between May 6th-27th.
As a sidenote, I'll be activating the Comment Moderation function for this site, so all your comments will be saved for me to view and approve when I get online. This is to discourage any arguments or crude comments while I'm gone, so I won't come back to a site torn and cluttered with pointless spam. After I get back to regularly posting, this function will be deactivated.
So until then, my readers. Wish me well, and may God bless you.
girls-sports-convicting-and-challenging-classes-Stock". Speaking of the WOC, have you noticed that there's an OC conspiracy in all this? I mean, WordstOCk, EurOCk, wOC, rOCk, sOCks, etc...Wait, I'd better stop right there. The OCs will harm me for this exposure.
On a happier note (I am very excited, I'm smiling real big, I'm jumping on my bed and my hands are flailing...Oops, I need to pee), I must tell you all that I will be attending Wordstock 2006. HOORAY!
At the same time, I am reminded of the last two years when I did not attend Wordstock. Reading Broadband was like torture to me, it basically screamed "Look what you missed!" Oh, wait, it did say that, didn't it? I wrote down my thoughts here and there, and I understand what those of you who are unable to attend this year's Wordstock are going through. But let's take it with a positive attitude, guys (I should have), the Lord pulled me through (and gave me the opportunity to attend this year), and I know He'll do the same for you.
I'm having a real problem with the whole packing thing, though. I dislike packing, it gives me headaches, like the one I have now. And the weather down there isn't something I'm looking forward to either, but I have a plan, I'm going to travel down in a giant icebox.
I'll begin my journey to the land of hot weather and cowboys in four days, if you could please pray for all to go well and according to plan, and also for protection and provision, I'd be very much obliged. I'll try (emphasis on "try", this plan seems to always fall through) to keep a brief log of my journey and Wordstock. When I get back I'll try to post most of it, but don't expect any updates between May 6th-27th.
As a sidenote, I'll be activating the Comment Moderation function for this site, so all your comments will be saved for me to view and approve when I get online. This is to discourage any arguments or crude comments while I'm gone, so I won't come back to a site torn and cluttered with pointless spam. After I get back to regularly posting, this function will be deactivated.
So until then, my readers. Wish me well, and may God bless you.
28 April 2006
Discipleship and Blogs 10:25 PM
I just finished reading "Shooting Straight, Part 18", and if you in the Family author a blog, I recommend that you read it as soon as possible. It's full of helpful and practical counsel, with convicting and challenging messages from the Lord.
I knew it was only a matter of time before the topic of Family blogs would be addressed in a GN, and I've been anticipating this counsel. Of course, after reading this GN, I can see that there are areas I need to improve in, new habits I need to form, and some bad habits I need to get rid of.
But like almost every aspect of your life, it just boils down to whether or not you're serious about being a disciple. If you're a disciple at heart, it will reflect in your actions and communications.
I knew it was only a matter of time before the topic of Family blogs would be addressed in a GN, and I've been anticipating this counsel. Of course, after reading this GN, I can see that there are areas I need to improve in, new habits I need to form, and some bad habits I need to get rid of.
But like almost every aspect of your life, it just boils down to whether or not you're serious about being a disciple. If you're a disciple at heart, it will reflect in your actions and communications.
22 April 2006
It's me, but in your Inbox! 10:22 PM
You can now subscribe by email to the capital C, using the handy dandy email subscription form in the sidebar, courtesy of Feedblitz. Heck, I even subscribed myself! (To test it. Mostly.)
20 April 2006
Banner v.2 9:12 PM
Once again, I've changed the banner. I thought the previous one looked a little wimpy, it wasn't bold enough. Do I think this one looks bolder? Yes.
I've also changed something else. Try to figure out what it is...No, giving up so soon? Pitiful. Ok, what I changed is the little icon next to my URL in the address bar (you should see it if you're using Firefox, which you should). I got tired of the little "B" for Blogger, so I kicked it into the sayonara garbage bin and said hello to my new and sexy "C".
I'm lovin' these changes, if you don't like them, then go away.
I've also changed something else. Try to figure out what it is...No, giving up so soon? Pitiful. Ok, what I changed is the little icon next to my URL in the address bar (you should see it if you're using Firefox, which you should). I got tired of the little "B" for Blogger, so I kicked it into the sayonara garbage bin and said hello to my new and sexy "C".
I'm lovin' these changes, if you don't like them, then go away.
16 April 2006
Ahhh...WHEEEEEEEEEE!! 10:07 PM
In light of the recent release of Firefox 1.5.0.2, I give you a little something I found over at The Hollow Blah.
Firefox and Retarded Browsers
The retarded "e" sort of gets to you after the sixth or seventh time. "'Tis time to talk tech. Tee-tee!"
Firefox and Retarded Browsers
The retarded "e" sort of gets to you after the sixth or seventh time. "'Tis time to talk tech. Tee-tee!"
Firefox and Retarded Browsers 10:07 PM
In light of the recent release of Firefox 1.5.0.2, I give you a little something I found over at The Hollow Blah.
The retarded "e" sort of gets to you after the sixth or seventh time.
The retarded "e" sort of gets to you after the sixth or seventh time.
14 April 2006
Skellington 8:56 PM
Being bored as heck, I did a Google image search for my name. Below is the first result.
Thank you, Google Image Search, you've just ruined my day with a subtle hint about my weight.
Thank you, Google Image Search, you've just ruined my day with a subtle hint about my weight.
12 April 2006
My Day 7:47 PM
Almost every time I go online and spend my monthly one hour on chat, I get asked "What are you up to?", "What did you do today?", or something to that effect. I usually don't know what to say, how many times do my friends want to hear the same damn thing?
I've decided to just summarize my daily activities, so I can avoid the above question. The next time someone asks me about what I did during my day, I might refer them to this post.
My day begins at 5 P.M. (a great time to start any day), and I immediately jump into my spandex suit, throw a pair of underwear on top of my tight pants (which sort of ride up my crotch), adjust my cape, gloves and mask, and jump out the window, ready to save the world. I help old ladies cross the street, save kids from white sugar by stealing it and eating it all, and bring little kittens down from trees (stupid little furballs, climbing up trees they can't get down from, a kid just ran by with a pocketful of gum, lolipops, and other paraphernalia, I won't be able to catch up with him now).
After my long 10 minutes of work, I return home and realize most of the day has already passed, so I fly around the world so fast that time reverses and I now return home at 11 A.M. I eat breakfast, and then go straight to the computer and waste time there until 4 P.M. Then I take care of kids until 5, when I remember I forgot about school. I jump back into my suit, fly around the world, reverse time, and then do school and increase my knowledge for five hours. Afterwards, I practice guitar for an hour, until my neighborhood sends the police to shut me up.
Then I waste time on whatever hobby I feel like doing at the time (reading, upsetting people on the Internet, teaching patience to my family) until bedtime. I sit up staring at my four walls, the moon, any object that catches my fancy, and I ponder probable answers to life's big questions.
When I finally go to sleep and wake up the next evening, I repeat all of the above.
Now if you'll excuse me, some old lady needs help to cross the street, a kitten is caught in a tree, and some fat kid with bulging pockets just ran past me.
I've decided to just summarize my daily activities, so I can avoid the above question. The next time someone asks me about what I did during my day, I might refer them to this post.
My day begins at 5 P.M. (a great time to start any day), and I immediately jump into my spandex suit, throw a pair of underwear on top of my tight pants (which sort of ride up my crotch), adjust my cape, gloves and mask, and jump out the window, ready to save the world. I help old ladies cross the street, save kids from white sugar by stealing it and eating it all, and bring little kittens down from trees (stupid little furballs, climbing up trees they can't get down from, a kid just ran by with a pocketful of gum, lolipops, and other paraphernalia, I won't be able to catch up with him now).
After my long 10 minutes of work, I return home and realize most of the day has already passed, so I fly around the world so fast that time reverses and I now return home at 11 A.M. I eat breakfast, and then go straight to the computer and waste time there until 4 P.M. Then I take care of kids until 5, when I remember I forgot about school. I jump back into my suit, fly around the world, reverse time, and then do school and increase my knowledge for five hours. Afterwards, I practice guitar for an hour, until my neighborhood sends the police to shut me up.
Then I waste time on whatever hobby I feel like doing at the time (reading, upsetting people on the Internet, teaching patience to my family) until bedtime. I sit up staring at my four walls, the moon, any object that catches my fancy, and I ponder probable answers to life's big questions.
When I finally go to sleep and wake up the next evening, I repeat all of the above.
Now if you'll excuse me, some old lady needs help to cross the street, a kitten is caught in a tree, and some fat kid with bulging pockets just ran past me.
09 April 2006
Quotes 7:41 PM
These are three quotes that I like and want to commit to memory:
Say it with conviction.
You've got to decide in your heart that you're a revolutionary, and you're never going to be a part of this world and it's ways. (ML#3458:152)
I want to read you something that describes the character of the visionary. You can be the same way if you want to and if you fight to be that way. Okay?
People are unreasonable, illogical‚ and self-centered. Love them anyway.
If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives. Do good anyway.
If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway.
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway.
The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
The biggest people with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest people with the smallest minds. Think big anyway.
People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs. Fight for some underdogs anyway.
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway.
Doing the right thing anyway, in spite of opposition or your own feelings, is the making of great men and women; it's the path to success. (ML#3571-1:44)
My profession, like that of thousands and thousands of other Family members, is discipleship. That's what I do, that's what I am, that's what I live for, that's what I'll die for. If tomorrow the Lord sends me to a place where there's no videos, no Internet, no music, no pleasures of this life then I'll still serve Him, because I love Him and because that's what I'm committed to. (ML#3399:274)"I'm a disciple."
Say it with conviction.
06 April 2006
Help, my creativity has run out! 10:20 PM
Just kidding.
Recently, whenever I've told someone about something funny or interesting that happened, they tell me I should blog about it. What? If I "blogged" about any and every small happening, I'd be creating small and boring posts which should be burning in pink-and-flowery-diary hell.
"I played basketball yesterday. My muscles ached later, but it was great and I hope to go play more basketball soon."
"Sonya arrived a few days ago. Nathalie came for a visit as well. We talked. A lot."
"April Fools came and went. I managed to avoid most pranks and got tricked only once. April Fools is great. Whoever came up with the idea of a holiday for exploiting stupid and naive people was a genius."
"My dad kicked and broke a plate in an attempt to do a special trick today. We all had a good laugh."
Sound incomplete? You see, I like to make complete posts centered around an idea or concept I'm inspired about. I usually don't get inspired by small everyday happenings. I already have at least three ideas for a new post almost every time I'm writing one.
Recently, whenever I've told someone about something funny or interesting that happened, they tell me I should blog about it. What? If I "blogged" about any and every small happening, I'd be creating small and boring posts which should be burning in pink-and-flowery-diary hell.
"I played basketball yesterday. My muscles ached later, but it was great and I hope to go play more basketball soon."
"Sonya arrived a few days ago. Nathalie came for a visit as well. We talked. A lot."
"April Fools came and went. I managed to avoid most pranks and got tricked only once. April Fools is great. Whoever came up with the idea of a holiday for exploiting stupid and naive people was a genius."
"My dad kicked and broke a plate in an attempt to do a special trick today. We all had a good laugh."
Sound incomplete? You see, I like to make complete posts centered around an idea or concept I'm inspired about. I usually don't get inspired by small everyday happenings. I already have at least three ideas for a new post almost every time I'm writing one.
31 March 2006
Happy Thoughts 8:29 PM
I'm screwed.
I can't cook. I can't drive. I can't sing. I can't draw. I'm behind in school. I always wake up late. I'm plain looking. I'm skinny. Really skinny. I'm loud mouthed, opinionated, insulting, and irritating.
I'm going straight to hell. I will not pass Go, I will not collect $200.
I'm hearing my sisters tell lame jokes and talk about guys.
Tonight, I'm watching a movie with Orlando Bloom in it.
I accidently broke our digital camera. This means no new pictures for anyone.
Comment and send me some encouragement. I'll have fun deleting your comment. If you're still feeling sorry for me, drop me a line. I'll try my damnedest to ignore it.
I can't cook. I can't drive. I can't sing. I can't draw. I'm behind in school. I always wake up late. I'm plain looking. I'm skinny. Really skinny. I'm loud mouthed, opinionated, insulting, and irritating.
I'm going straight to hell. I will not pass Go, I will not collect $200.
I'm hearing my sisters tell lame jokes and talk about guys.
Tonight, I'm watching a movie with Orlando Bloom in it.
I accidently broke our digital camera. This means no new pictures for anyone.
Comment and send me some encouragement. I'll have fun deleting your comment. If you're still feeling sorry for me, drop me a line. I'll try my damnedest to ignore it.
26 March 2006
Thinking of staying up late? 7:59 PM
It's great to stay up late. I stayed up until 5:30 a.m. last weekend, and contrary to what you may believe, I'm feeling great. There are many benefits to staying up late, such as, well...uh...exclusion from chores on the basis of being too tired to even utter a protest?
I've listed some tips below on how to best spend your time while awake during late hours of the night, and other tips on how to keep yourself awake. These are not listed in order of importance.
1. Coffee. Drink it like water (assuming you drink water a lot).
2. Books. Read anything on hand. The Bible, a newspaper, an ABC children's dictionary, etc. I would also recommend Les Miserables.
3. Watch TV. Yeah, so 99.9% of it is stupid and a slap to your intelligence (or lack thereof, if you are a regular TV viewer), but it's one of the best ways to waste time.
4. Walk your dog. If you don't own one, stroll down the street dancing and humming tunes from old musicals.
5. Play video games. If you can secure a copy of Jedi Power Battles, play it during late night hours. I've wasted so much time on that game, especially during late night hours (I still don't know why, it's not that great of a game). If you beat all ten game levels, try to beat the last 4 hidden levels. If you beat them, let me know.
6. Go online and post in your favorite forum. I'm sure quite a few people do this, as the unintelligible drivel that is found in some forums can only be the work of a tired individual who can hardly pry his or her eye open, let alone express themselves clearly.
7. I'm tired.
8. There's more tips. More. But I can't remember them.
9. Hibble. Hibble Wibble.
10. YAWN.
11. HAHAHAHAHA.
12. Food...
13. Girls hate me.
14. Blanket.
15. Pillow.
I've listed some tips below on how to best spend your time while awake during late hours of the night, and other tips on how to keep yourself awake. These are not listed in order of importance.
1. Coffee. Drink it like water (assuming you drink water a lot).
2. Books. Read anything on hand. The Bible, a newspaper, an ABC children's dictionary, etc. I would also recommend Les Miserables.
3. Watch TV. Yeah, so 99.9% of it is stupid and a slap to your intelligence (or lack thereof, if you are a regular TV viewer), but it's one of the best ways to waste time.
4. Walk your dog. If you don't own one, stroll down the street dancing and humming tunes from old musicals.
5. Play video games. If you can secure a copy of Jedi Power Battles, play it during late night hours. I've wasted so much time on that game, especially during late night hours (I still don't know why, it's not that great of a game). If you beat all ten game levels, try to beat the last 4 hidden levels. If you beat them, let me know.
6. Go online and post in your favorite forum. I'm sure quite a few people do this, as the unintelligible drivel that is found in some forums can only be the work of a tired individual who can hardly pry his or her eye open, let alone express themselves clearly.
7. I'm tired.
8. There's more tips. More. But I can't remember them.
9. Hibble. Hibble Wibble.
10. YAWN.
11. HAHAHAHAHA.
12. Food...
13. Girls hate me.
14. Blanket.
15. Pillow.
Thinking of staying up late? 7:59 PM
It's great to stay up late. I stayed up until 5:30 a.m. last weekend, and contrary to what you may believe, I'm feeling great. There are many benefits to staying up late, such as, well...uh...exclusion from chores on the basis of being too tired to even utter a protest?
I've listed some tips below on how to best spend your time while awake during late hours of the night, and other tips on how to keep yourself awake. These are not listed in order of importance.
1. Coffee. Drink it like water (assuming you drink water a lot).
2. Books. Read anything on hand. The Bible, a newspaper, an ABC children's dictionary, etc. I would also recommend Les Miserables.
3. Watch TV. Yeah, so 99.9% of it is stupid and a slap to your intelligence (or lack thereof, if you are a regular TV viewer), but it's one of the best ways to waste time.
4. Walk your dog. If you don't own one, stroll down the street dancing and humming tunes from old musicals.
5. Play video games. If you can secure a copy of Jedi Power Battles, play it during late night hours. I've wasted so much time on that game, especially during late night hours (I still don't know why, it's not that great of a game). If you beat all ten game levels, try to beat the last 4 hidden levels. If you beat them, let me know.
6. Go online and post in your favorite forum. I'm sure quite a few people do this, as the unintelligible drivel that is found in some forums can only be the work of a tired individual who can hardly pry his or her eye open, let alone express themselves clearly.
7. I'm tired.
8. There's more tips. More. But I can't remember them.
9. Hibble. Hibble Wibble.
10. YAWN.
11. HAHAHAHAHA.
12. Food...
13. Girls hate me.
14. Blanket.
15. Pillow.
I've listed some tips below on how to best spend your time while awake during late hours of the night, and other tips on how to keep yourself awake. These are not listed in order of importance.
1. Coffee. Drink it like water (assuming you drink water a lot).
2. Books. Read anything on hand. The Bible, a newspaper, an ABC children's dictionary, etc. I would also recommend Les Miserables.
3. Watch TV. Yeah, so 99.9% of it is stupid and a slap to your intelligence (or lack thereof, if you are a regular TV viewer), but it's one of the best ways to waste time.
4. Walk your dog. If you don't own one, stroll down the street dancing and humming tunes from old musicals.
5. Play video games. If you can secure a copy of Jedi Power Battles, play it during late night hours. I've wasted so much time on that game, especially during late night hours (I still don't know why, it's not that great of a game). If you beat all ten game levels, try to beat the last 4 hidden levels. If you beat them, let me know.
6. Go online and post in your favorite forum. I'm sure quite a few people do this, as the unintelligible drivel that is found in some forums can only be the work of a tired individual who can hardly pry his or her eye open, let alone express themselves clearly.
7. I'm tired.
8. There's more tips. More. But I can't remember them.
9. Hibble. Hibble Wibble.
10. YAWN.
11. HAHAHAHAHA.
12. Food...
13. Girls hate me.
14. Blanket.
15. Pillow.
16 March 2006
Let's blow up the Blogosphere! 8:30 PM
I've decided that we should all agree that excess blogs authored by illiterate and boring morons should be discontinued, deleted, and made to disappear completely. That way, their audience will come to me.
I still remember the days when having a blog was a novel idea. Now EVERYONE has one. One day it will be the custom to no longer just exchange e-mail addresses with new friends, but blog URLs as well.
A friend once sent me this article, saying, "Eman no offense to ur blog thing but read this". I've stopped having a "blog thing" some time ago. I used to post uninteresting happenings, and you may find one or two such posts in the future, but "blogging" about every little thing I do during the course of my day isn't rewarding to me at all. This website just keeps evolving.
I hate having to post "for the people". I write what I feel like writing at the time, whatever I damn well please, in the style I'm comfortable with. To try to create content that is popular with the majority of the world these days (adding pictures, being real funny, being "deep" and insightful, blah blah blah...) is a headache, trends are volatile.
One thing that irks me the most is people who "blog" as if they were sending an IM to someone. "yeah, so i tld my freind 'talk tothe hand', lol :D" Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I know I've written about this before, but these people really IRK me.
I still remember the days when having a blog was a novel idea. Now EVERYONE has one. One day it will be the custom to no longer just exchange e-mail addresses with new friends, but blog URLs as well.
A friend once sent me this article, saying, "Eman no offense to ur blog thing but read this". I've stopped having a "blog thing" some time ago. I used to post uninteresting happenings, and you may find one or two such posts in the future, but "blogging" about every little thing I do during the course of my day isn't rewarding to me at all. This website just keeps evolving.
I hate having to post "for the people". I write what I feel like writing at the time, whatever I damn well please, in the style I'm comfortable with. To try to create content that is popular with the majority of the world these days (adding pictures, being real funny, being "deep" and insightful, blah blah blah...) is a headache, trends are volatile.
One thing that irks me the most is people who "blog" as if they were sending an IM to someone. "yeah, so i tld my freind 'talk tothe hand', lol :D" Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I know I've written about this before, but these people really IRK me.
09 March 2006
Gabey Baby 8:19 PM
February 23, 11:32 a.m., Joseph Gabriel Belanger is born.
But please, call him Gabriel.
Weighing 8 pounds and measuring 20 inches at birth, this little guy must be the cutest thing since Milo and Otis.
I shouldn't start bragging about him. Everyone else thinks their baby is the cutest, why should I join the ranks of the biased?
But he's pretty cute, eh?
He'd make a dope pope.
I wish I had a picture of his smile, or his face after he sneezes. But he's just too fast and unpredictable.
He's pretty quiet, and he hasn't waken me at night, except that when I carry him he usually cries for his Mommy. But he hasn't puked on any of my shirts yet, I think that means we're getting along.
But please, call him Gabriel.
Weighing 8 pounds and measuring 20 inches at birth, this little guy must be the cutest thing since Milo and Otis.
I shouldn't start bragging about him. Everyone else thinks their baby is the cutest, why should I join the ranks of the biased?
But he's pretty cute, eh?
He'd make a dope pope.I wish I had a picture of his smile, or his face after he sneezes. But he's just too fast and unpredictable.
He's pretty quiet, and he hasn't waken me at night, except that when I carry him he usually cries for his Mommy. But he hasn't puked on any of my shirts yet, I think that means we're getting along.
21 February 2006
Am I Late? 4:52 PM
Yes, Valentine's Day was five days before I wrote the post below.
I actually had a great Valentine's Day, since Jesus is the Lover of my soul. And seeing as I forgot to spread the love to my friends, Family, and readers, let me say that I love you guys and I hope you'll agree with me that peanut butter blows.
I never got around to writing about the last fellowship I went to. And I won't write about it, because I forgot about it, it's not that interesting, and because Nats already took the time to describe the irrelevant details.
I'll just let you all know that I am the Bowling King, and the devil won't get me next time.
The 23rd of this month, my mom will be giving birth to a baby boy, and rowdy boys will rule this family. Please keep her and my soon-to-be brother in your prayers.
I swear, it's a baby invasion. It seems all my friends and everyone I know is getting pregnant. No, that's not the biblical "know".
I think I offended the Japanese. I used to get so many hits from Japan, but ever since I ceased to appear on The Crooked's link list, hits from Japan are about as rare as an honest politician.
I actually had a great Valentine's Day, since Jesus is the Lover of my soul. And seeing as I forgot to spread the love to my friends, Family, and readers, let me say that I love you guys and I hope you'll agree with me that peanut butter blows.
I never got around to writing about the last fellowship I went to. And I won't write about it, because I forgot about it, it's not that interesting, and because Nats already took the time to describe the irrelevant details.
I'll just let you all know that I am the Bowling King, and the devil won't get me next time.
The 23rd of this month, my mom will be giving birth to a baby boy, and rowdy boys will rule this family. Please keep her and my soon-to-be brother in your prayers.
I swear, it's a baby invasion. It seems all my friends and everyone I know is getting pregnant. No, that's not the biblical "know".
I think I offended the Japanese. I used to get so many hits from Japan, but ever since I ceased to appear on The Crooked's link list, hits from Japan are about as rare as an honest politician.
19 February 2006
Chocolate Blows 5:46 PM
Valentine's Day.
Humbug.
It's unnecessary, since I celebrate love 365 days a year, and 366 every leap year.
Valentine's Day is an excuse for my family to rent sappy movies about "love". This time it was Elizabethtown, and it starred Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. I never thought I'd find the sight of a woman clad in panties and a tight tee to be a turn off, but Kirsten Dunst proved me wrong. I pity the woman, Dunst is a horrible last name. But so is Bloom.
Elizabethtown started off real nice. Orlando Bloom was going to kill himself, my popcorn bowl was almost empty, and no one was sobbing. But then Orlando Bloom's character gets a phone call from his sister, and the movie goes from crappy to sappy.
I have a great idea. The movie should be remade so that Orlando Bloom boards the plane and meets Kirsten Dunst, but then a terrorist hijacks the plane and crashes it into Elizabethtown. I'll call it "The Tragic Five Minute Film of Two Actors with Pathetic Last Names who Can't Act if it Were To Save Their Lives".
It's not that I hate love stories. It's just that there are way-too-many of them. There are billions of people in the world today, most of whom have their personal love story. And that's not counting the billions of people who have lived. Plus all the sappy love movies Hollywood torments me with.
Speaking of love stories, yesterday I watched The Notebook. My family told me it was a great movie, so giving them the benefit of the doubt, I sat down. That night, I refused to sleep in my warm bed, wear my comfy pajamas, and cuddle my teddy bear. Instead, I chose to sleep on the living room couch in my t-shirt and boxers, just to be sure I wasn't losing any of my manly qualities after being exposed to sweet mush like that. As a precautionary measure, I also scratched my butt at random intervals and trained myself to drool on my soft pillow while I slept. Wait, did I say pillow? I meant armrest.
I don't like chocolate. As a child, I used to hurl if I ever ate more than a tiny bit. I don't eat my birthday cakes if the main flavor is chocolate. I only eat chocolate when I'm depressed. Which is never.
Romantics worldwide hope I choke and die at night because I refused to bow down and worship their sacred day and romantic classics.
Humbug.
It's unnecessary, since I celebrate love 365 days a year, and 366 every leap year.
Valentine's Day is an excuse for my family to rent sappy movies about "love". This time it was Elizabethtown, and it starred Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. I never thought I'd find the sight of a woman clad in panties and a tight tee to be a turn off, but Kirsten Dunst proved me wrong. I pity the woman, Dunst is a horrible last name. But so is Bloom.
Elizabethtown started off real nice. Orlando Bloom was going to kill himself, my popcorn bowl was almost empty, and no one was sobbing. But then Orlando Bloom's character gets a phone call from his sister, and the movie goes from crappy to sappy.
I have a great idea. The movie should be remade so that Orlando Bloom boards the plane and meets Kirsten Dunst, but then a terrorist hijacks the plane and crashes it into Elizabethtown. I'll call it "The Tragic Five Minute Film of Two Actors with Pathetic Last Names who Can't Act if it Were To Save Their Lives".
It's not that I hate love stories. It's just that there are way-too-many of them. There are billions of people in the world today, most of whom have their personal love story. And that's not counting the billions of people who have lived. Plus all the sappy love movies Hollywood torments me with.
Speaking of love stories, yesterday I watched The Notebook. My family told me it was a great movie, so giving them the benefit of the doubt, I sat down. That night, I refused to sleep in my warm bed, wear my comfy pajamas, and cuddle my teddy bear. Instead, I chose to sleep on the living room couch in my t-shirt and boxers, just to be sure I wasn't losing any of my manly qualities after being exposed to sweet mush like that. As a precautionary measure, I also scratched my butt at random intervals and trained myself to drool on my soft pillow while I slept. Wait, did I say pillow? I meant armrest.
I don't like chocolate. As a child, I used to hurl if I ever ate more than a tiny bit. I don't eat my birthday cakes if the main flavor is chocolate. I only eat chocolate when I'm depressed. Which is never.
Romantics worldwide hope I choke and die at night because I refused to bow down and worship their sacred day and romantic classics.
Chocolate Blows 5:46 PM
Valentine's Day.
Humbug.
It's unnecessary, since I celebrate love 365 days a year, and 366 every leap year.
Valentine's Day is an excuse for my family to rent sappy movies about "love". This time it was Elizabethtown, and it starred Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. I never thought I'd find the sight of a woman clad in panties and a tight tee to be a turn off, but Kirsten Dunst proved me wrong. I pity the woman, Dunst is a horrible last name. But so is Bloom.
Elizabethtown started off real nice. Orlando Bloom was going to kill himself, my popcorn bowl was almost empty, and no one was sobbing. But then Orlando Bloom's character gets a phone call from his sister, and the movie goes from crappy to sappy.
I have a great idea. The movie should be remade so that Orlando Bloom boards the plane and meets Kirsten Dunst, but then a terrorist hijacks the plane and crashes it into Elizabethtown. I'll call it "The Tragic Five Minute Film of Two Actors with Pathetic Last Names who Can't Act if it Were To Save Their Lives".
It's not that I hate love stories. It's just that there are way-too-many of them. There are billions of people in the world today, most of whom have their personal love story. And that's not counting the billions of people who have lived. Plus all the sappy love movies Hollywood torments me with.
Speaking of love stories, yesterday I watched The Notebook. My family told me it was a great movie, so giving them the benefit of the doubt, I sat down. That night, I refused to sleep in my warm bed, wear my comfy pajamas, and cuddle my teddy bear. Instead, I chose to sleep on the living room couch in my t-shirt and boxers, just to be sure I wasn't losing any of my manly qualities after being exposed to sweet mush like that. As a precautionary measure, I also scratched my butt at random intervals and trained myself to drool on my soft pillow while I slept. Wait, did I say pillow? I meant armrest.
I don't like chocolate. As a child, I used to hurl if I ever ate more than a tiny bit. I don't eat my birthday cakes if the main flavor is chocolate. I only eat chocolate when I'm depressed. Which is never.
Romantics worldwide hope I choke and die at night because I refused to bow down and worship their sacred day and romantic classics.
Humbug.
It's unnecessary, since I celebrate love 365 days a year, and 366 every leap year.
Valentine's Day is an excuse for my family to rent sappy movies about "love". This time it was Elizabethtown, and it starred Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. I never thought I'd find the sight of a woman clad in panties and a tight tee to be a turn off, but Kirsten Dunst proved me wrong. I pity the woman, Dunst is a horrible last name. But so is Bloom.
Elizabethtown started off real nice. Orlando Bloom was going to kill himself, my popcorn bowl was almost empty, and no one was sobbing. But then Orlando Bloom's character gets a phone call from his sister, and the movie goes from crappy to sappy.
I have a great idea. The movie should be remade so that Orlando Bloom boards the plane and meets Kirsten Dunst, but then a terrorist hijacks the plane and crashes it into Elizabethtown. I'll call it "The Tragic Five Minute Film of Two Actors with Pathetic Last Names who Can't Act if it Were To Save Their Lives".
It's not that I hate love stories. It's just that there are way-too-many of them. There are billions of people in the world today, most of whom have their personal love story. And that's not counting the billions of people who have lived. Plus all the sappy love movies Hollywood torments me with.
Speaking of love stories, yesterday I watched The Notebook. My family told me it was a great movie, so giving them the benefit of the doubt, I sat down. That night, I refused to sleep in my warm bed, wear my comfy pajamas, and cuddle my teddy bear. Instead, I chose to sleep on the living room couch in my t-shirt and boxers, just to be sure I wasn't losing any of my manly qualities after being exposed to sweet mush like that. As a precautionary measure, I also scratched my butt at random intervals and trained myself to drool on my soft pillow while I slept. Wait, did I say pillow? I meant armrest.
I don't like chocolate. As a child, I used to hurl if I ever ate more than a tiny bit. I don't eat my birthday cakes if the main flavor is chocolate. I only eat chocolate when I'm depressed. Which is never.
Romantics worldwide hope I choke and die at night because I refused to bow down and worship their sacred day and romantic classics.
10 February 2006
Feast and Sleep 10:49 AM
I throughly enjoyed this Feast.
If only I lived in a larger home. With lots of cute girls.
Yeah, we can't have everything we want.
But I got pretty darn close.
So I packed into those three days a good amount of Word time, all our required meetings, and way-too-much sleep.
The best thing about these days was that the Spirit was there, and you could really feel it.
Especially during the Loving Jesus night.
I'm telling you, Loving Jesus is hardcore.
This is the TJWL I received during the Loving Jesus night:
Thank you Jesus for your Words of Life!
If only I lived in a larger home. With lots of cute girls.
Yeah, we can't have everything we want.
But I got pretty darn close.
So I packed into those three days a good amount of Word time, all our required meetings, and way-too-much sleep.
The best thing about these days was that the Spirit was there, and you could really feel it.
Especially during the Loving Jesus night.
I'm telling you, Loving Jesus is hardcore.
This is the TJWL I received during the Loving Jesus night:
Dear Jesus, You are the most wonderful, anointed Lover I have ever been with. It's a joy being with You in every way. You are a joy to my spirit, a joy to my body, a joy that fills me through and through! It's always amazing to me how, even when I'm down, this joy from you never ceases. Even in the midst of discouragement and battles, that joy from You is always so pure and real.Neat thing is, it's almost exactly what I wanted to say to Jesus at the time.
I've experienced this joy for many years now, and it never ceases to amaze me how unfailing it is. You are always there! Always! You have always been with me in every facet and detail of my life. I praise and thank you for this, my great and wonderful Lover! I love you so very much, dear Lord! I love you so very much, my great and wonderful Love! You are truly my best Friend, my most faithful Lover, my greatest of all joys! I'm so grateful and happy with the endless Love You keep pouring into my heart!
I am most richly blessed. Imagine, Lord, being chosen to serve You in the greatest movement on earth! What love, that you have given me this beautiful life, living in this Heavenly Kingdom on earth! It's something that boggles my mind, and probably always will. How did this ever happen to little ol' me? You have given funny little ol' me so very, very much!
Thank you Jesus for your Words of Life!
05 February 2006
I Love This Shirt 12:00 PM
I figured out why people keep staring at my chest when I go out.
The way it is:
The way the Quebecois people see it:
If you don't get it, that's probably a good thing. I wouldn't want your mommy and daddy blaming me for your ability to swear in French.
The way it is:
The way the Quebecois people see it:
If you don't get it, that's probably a good thing. I wouldn't want your mommy and daddy blaming me for your ability to swear in French.
26 January 2006
Hooray. 10:50 PM
Tragedy struck.
Our computer was attacked by several viruses, and we had to format the hard drive and reinstall Windows XP. I've lost all my music, videos, games, and documents. I still have most of my priceless pictures, but since they're on another drive, you probably won't be seeing any pictures here for awhile.
So the reasons I haven't been blogging of late is because I've been making minor changes to this website, and because of the reason stated above. I've wasted a whole day formatting this hard drive, reinstalling Windows XP, and fighting spyware and viruses with different anti-virus and spyware removal programs.
And I'm no computer whiz, hell no. I'm just doing what computer savvy friends have recommended.
And speaking of artificial intelligence, this spyware creates desktop shortcuts which profess to be able to remove spyware from your computer. This sort of advertisement must work real well...with morons. This bullshit is about as ironic as a Winnie the Pooh spelling video.
My eyes feel sore, and I'm tired of clicking this abused mouse. The fight is not yet over, I've managed to subdue the viruses and spyware so that they are not majorly affecting this computer, but I know they're still here.
As a last word of advice: Get Firefox! IE is bullshit, it's been such a pain in the behind these last days. Pray that we can get this computer fixed for real sometime this week.
Our computer was attacked by several viruses, and we had to format the hard drive and reinstall Windows XP. I've lost all my music, videos, games, and documents. I still have most of my priceless pictures, but since they're on another drive, you probably won't be seeing any pictures here for awhile.
So the reasons I haven't been blogging of late is because I've been making minor changes to this website, and because of the reason stated above. I've wasted a whole day formatting this hard drive, reinstalling Windows XP, and fighting spyware and viruses with different anti-virus and spyware removal programs.
And I'm no computer whiz, hell no. I'm just doing what computer savvy friends have recommended.
And speaking of artificial intelligence, this spyware creates desktop shortcuts which profess to be able to remove spyware from your computer. This sort of advertisement must work real well...with morons. This bullshit is about as ironic as a Winnie the Pooh spelling video.
My eyes feel sore, and I'm tired of clicking this abused mouse. The fight is not yet over, I've managed to subdue the viruses and spyware so that they are not majorly affecting this computer, but I know they're still here.
As a last word of advice: Get Firefox! IE is bullshit, it's been such a pain in the behind these last days. Pray that we can get this computer fixed for real sometime this week.
12 January 2006
The Capital C Presents: Another Boring Post 8:39 PM
Durn.
Where was I?
I think I effectively missed commenting on Kenji and his tutu.
He looks pretty. I want him at my party. I'll promise him BEER.
One reason I missed most of the hype is because I'm busy. Was, am, and will be. You see, DV, I'll be going over to Montreal tomorrow to attend a three day teen get-together. And the next reason is because I'd rather read a Penny Arcade comic, visit the Teletubbies website, or make fun of stupid people on the internet than post on my blog.
Anyway, I think I'll spice up this post with an original column:
Person of My Day: Anyone who tries to be less offensive by writing ass or shit like this: a$$ or sh*t. As if the latter are any less offensive. Just swear already. Or better yet, DON'T swear every sentence, and learn to express yourself more creatively. Thank you.
Where was I?
I think I effectively missed commenting on Kenji and his tutu.
He looks pretty. I want him at my party. I'll promise him BEER.
One reason I missed most of the hype is because I'm busy. Was, am, and will be. You see, DV, I'll be going over to Montreal tomorrow to attend a three day teen get-together. And the next reason is because I'd rather read a Penny Arcade comic, visit the Teletubbies website, or make fun of stupid people on the internet than post on my blog.
Anyway, I think I'll spice up this post with an original column:
Person of My Day: Anyone who tries to be less offensive by writing ass or shit like this: a$$ or sh*t. As if the latter are any less offensive. Just swear already. Or better yet, DON'T swear every sentence, and learn to express yourself more creatively. Thank you.
06 January 2006
Snacktime 10:12 AM
I've added an RSS feed to this website.
"One feed to rule them all. One feed to find them. (Blah blah LOTR crap) ...BIND THEM!"
Poetic, eh?
Don't answer.
"One feed to rule them all. One feed to find them. (Blah blah LOTR crap) ...BIND THEM!"
Poetic, eh?
Don't answer.
05 January 2006
Slacker 10:22 PM
I'm going to break out with a good post some day, I tell you.
Just that today isn't that someday.
And I'm just plain old bored of blogging. Like this guy.
However.
I've got plans for this site, some needed renovation. I plan to add an RSS feed, get a guestbook going for some feedback, some polls perhaps, and some slight change in the code.
And if it looks ugly, I'll start again.
About the holidays.
In a way, I'm glad they're over. It was hectic, things had to move at a fast pace, and all the planning and cleaning was becoming a major headache. Although, when the holidays left, so did Sonya and her family. And I miss them. Slightly.
I comfort myself with the fact that I won't be hearing Sara's snoring and sleep talk anymore.
Memo to self: Get earplugs next time she comes over.
Anyway, I'm tired. You will not get another word out of me.
No.
Never.
Leave.
Read some blogs from my linky list.
Adios.
Just that today isn't that someday.
And I'm just plain old bored of blogging. Like this guy.
However.
I've got plans for this site, some needed renovation. I plan to add an RSS feed, get a guestbook going for some feedback, some polls perhaps, and some slight change in the code.
And if it looks ugly, I'll start again.
About the holidays.
In a way, I'm glad they're over. It was hectic, things had to move at a fast pace, and all the planning and cleaning was becoming a major headache. Although, when the holidays left, so did Sonya and her family. And I miss them. Slightly.
I comfort myself with the fact that I won't be hearing Sara's snoring and sleep talk anymore.
Memo to self: Get earplugs next time she comes over.
Anyway, I'm tired. You will not get another word out of me.
No.
Never.
Leave.
Read some blogs from my linky list.
Adios.