Video Games as a Poison

Have I ever written about my distaste for video games? Now don't get me wrong, Brody has actually gotten me to play Lego Harry Potter with him which are some of the only games I will ever really play aside from Kingdom Hearts. But those aren't the kinds of video games that I have a distaste for.

The Call of Duty, Halo, Shoot 'em up games is a good example of what I mean. While I don't see the point in general, I also see the affects it has on both my young brothers and my close friends. Video games, in my eyes, instills a sickness that I had never realized could exist until the generations became more and more video game savvy. It started with my family, with Tyler's aggression after playing a violent video game, his name calling, his dishonesty, everything. I saw David's inability to live without playing the video game for even an hour through his laziness, and I saw Ryan's passive-addictive behaviors around it.

Then I realized my friends were subject to it as well. Throughout high school I saw them bring their Nintendo's to school, their Gameboys, their cellphone games. I thought it was odd that they had to do that at school, but what really hit me is when I started dating Brody and Payden and Kaden that video games started to become an actual social event. The normal conversation and loving interaction was lost with the sucking void of the TV and the pretty colors it could produce.

It's so weird to see the glazed over look they all have when they play those video games. I feel incredibly left out around my friends when they are playing games, because I have no interest in it and I don't understand it at all.

Like I said, to me, it's a poison.



And I've seen so much of this. And it frightens me for the future of our peers.

Wanderlost

I explained a bit of my wanderlust in the last entry. I explained how it torments me, twists my insides and makes me throw up desire. It's that monkey on your back that knocks on your head and picks at your hair and won't ever leave you alone. It consumes you and abuses you and rattles your bones, demanding that you quell it's need for exploration. It drives you nuts.

And when you're in a relationship, all you ever want to do is share that excitement and passion with them and hope that they'd want to come with you wherever you might go.

I discovered the hard way that not everyone is like me, even the boy that I want to give my life to.

It kind of hurts.

Wanderlust - A Story of How I Just Can't Even

So with all the time that has passed, all those months spent not writing a goddamn thing about my life, that empty void that I left you hanging in, I realize that I have so much to say about what has happened and have been so incompetent about getting it written. I can blame school, because it is not only mentally exhausting, but emotionally and physically. (It's a big fucking campus.) But now that school is out, and has been out since the beginning of May, I have no excuse. I could try and blame my job, which is a boring call center job that you can read more about later on, but even though it feels mentally trying, it really isn't. It's no where near physically altering in any sense except for maybe my lumpy soft body becoming, well, even more lumpy and soft.

But hey, at least I'm doing it at all, even if it is a millennia late.

It's actually been a rough couple of weeks, even though it's summer time and I should be enjoying life and having fun. I've been working a ton, but that's not necessarily the hard part. One year ago I was swept away by Almond and Gary and taken to Paris and Germany for my graduation present. I could try and gush on and on about the experience, how absolutely stunning it was, new, exciting, thrilling, etc., etc. But I don't think Almond and Gary knew exactly what they were going to do to me long term by taking me to Europe so young.

Ever heard of Wanderlust? I thought you might.



It's funny. I am so wholly and entirely consumed by this need to get away from home and explore what the world has to offer to me, but I don't view it as a constant vacation I need. I know that traveling can be stressful and hard and not always like a vacation. That's what I crave though, the challenge to get around, the reward to experience afterward. It's all something I strive for. It holds me hostage, almost, this need to get away. This need to walk our earth and participate in something that isn't mine. Ah, the lust, the bug that creates this disease of desire. It's gotten me exploring any option that might let me travel. I know for a fact that everywhere I went in Germany, I had a smile on my face.

Oh, there were long days of walking and walking and walking. Bu that was enjoyable for me! There was confusion with the train systems and fear of some of the people around me, but that was the challenge!

I am currently planning to save enough money for myself and Brody to go to the UK in a couple of years. Hypothetically, it would be for a honeymoon, just depending on how things go.

The unfortunate part about this twisting, conniving feeling inside is that it is a very expensive desire. I don't have the means right now to go places like that on a whim. So I've been looking into different ways to get me places.

There are stewardesses with free flights, international cruiselines for exploring workers, travel agents with very good travel discounts, WOLF-ing for living freely and lightly, and much much, more. I'm just held down, a little bit, by the pressure of getting a degree in college and a boyfriend who wants to remain where he is.

Oh yeah, college? I'm wishy washy about it now. Right? Like I was going to become this kickass  surgeon and fulfill 13 years of medical school, then I was going to be a chemical engineer and all that jazz, but then I realized that being stuck in an office, despite my love for science, was not something I wanted to do. Not at all. I wanted to get out and explore and make money.

Does this mean I have to take entrepreneur classes? How am I going to make money? I guess I'll just have to figure it out.







Oh but this trip was definitely a good one.

A Year Gone By, Yet a Life Well Lived

I never really thought that I would say the very words that I said this morning. I had always found those words unequivocally saved for seven or ten years down the road. In fact, I'm almost positive I might have said them too early, like the way Ted screwed things up with Robin in the first episode of How I Met Your Mother. I kind of found myself dumb-founded in the shower tonight, eyes wide, shampoo dripping down my face, just praying that I didn't say something that I could possibly regret.

I've said a lot of regretful things in my life, but none quite so much as this could possibly be.

But before I really delve deep, I have to say, GUYS! (What "guys" might even be reading.) It's been a year. And yet, I haven't forgotten about this blog. It's come close, but I've written too many things for me to just throw it all away. I've spent countless hours pouring my heart out to strangers on the internet. And for what? I don't gain anything from it, except maybe a sense of relief.

To be honest, this is much different from writing in a journal. No one reads a journal except the writer. It's such a lonely, bottled up world in that little journal, whereas on a blog, where there is a slight chance that anyone could read it, you're setting yourself up for an opportunity to share your feelings with someone else and know that it was read and contemplated, and not just shut away. It's healing, almost.

No, this is not some lead into a terribly sad tale of woe, as my beginning paragraph might hint to you.

Actually, if you're up to it, it's another love story. A special kind of story, something that you'd watch on a drama-thriller TV show. Or maybe a bestselling-book-inspired movie. It's one of those stories that will warm your heart, possibly make the haters hate a lot, and realize that maybe you might be looking too far away for that one person.

Oh, and no, this is not a settling down story. Yet.

Do you remember the countless nights spent reading about this unnamed boy I dated years back in 9th grade? It was 2011, and I had written 133 blog posts for that year. They were amateur and incredibly goofy windows into my life, but I wouldn't trade them for anything, because they are documentation of my very first relationship.

Following his story, I've dated three other boys. Though the second one is my best gay friend and doesn't really count, I did kiss him. Twice. You've read about Payden, and the monstrosity of a relationship that was. But I vaguely wrote about Kaden, who, by chance, happened to be Almond's nephew and an emotionally big mistake. But maybe I'll write about that one some other time. This story, for now, has a better twist.

When something as drastic as ending a friendship occurs, the last thing you'd ever expect to happen is unconscious retaliation. Kaeli was dating Brody, my very first relationship and my 9th grade sweetheart, whilst the fighting and the revenge and the nonchalant glares continued endlessly. Those two dated for nearly two years, and I had completely given up on seeing Brody as a friend ever again. In that time, I had gotten over Payden, had a disastrously heartbreaker-relationship with Kaden, graduated proudly with friends and family watching me, and embraced my single life once more during the hot and heavy summer days.

There was this little Facebook notification for me at the end of July, that sort of changed the course of my life completely.

It was almost like Magic.

He invited me to have tea with him. And my god, it had been so long. I was so ecstatic to hear from him after all this time! In fact, I was so overwhelmed with shock, that Kaeli had unfairly passed through my mind, and when I told Brayden and Tyler about this, I could only just imagine what kind of angry Kaeli would be if she found out I was hanging out with her boyfriend again, just like that first time when we went golfing together. The last thing I needed was her trying to start rumors again.

Oh but who cared? I got to see my friend again! So Monday, July 28th, we met up at the mall to have some tea together.

How can I describe that moment? The moment when he stepped around the corner and saw me? When I saw him? He had grown into himself since I last saw him. He found a way to tame his brilliantly curly hair ever so slightly, found that smirk that made my heart skip a beat the first time I saw it. He drew me into a hug so tight, that I swear he was making up for the time lost between us as friends.

And hot damn, this new man I discovered was not only astoundingly attractive, but warm and excited and happy.

And that was when I discovered he and Kaeli broke up a week ago.

Monday was such a good day. I remember every single moment of that day, because I held on to every last bit with pleasure. We had tea and we talked and we talked and we laughed and we smiled. We went to Jack and Jill's and we bowled a few games, him wasting me every time. We played a few rounds of pool, him wasting me every time except once. Then we talked, while sitting in the trunk of his car. We talked and talked and talked.

And then I offered to read his cards, so that led us to my home. Then that led us to my bed, to rest for a bit.

My head was close to his, we were laying next to each other. And dammit, before I knew it my head was on his chest. I didn't know where control went--most likely out the window--and I didn't care. From that point, I looked at him once, and we kissed. It was like I had been a plain old wick doused in glorious flame for the second time. A second first kiss. A dream solidified to memory.

That pent up emotion, that tension that followed us throughout the day, it rose above us and over us and smothered us until the kisses grew heavier. I had only just seen him for the first time today, and yet my shirt was on the floor. I will never disregard those sex-crazed movie scenes where it seems control was specifically removed for plot. Because with feelings like the ones that night, there was no control. We left my home for "drinks". But we really just went to the store for something we both needed. And story made short, I made love for the first time in months to a guy I had only just met once again.

And I even had the balls to call it a "friends with benefits" kind of relationship.

Oh but who was I kidding? It was a relationship, as quickly as making love had come to us.

College started, after years of anticipation and waiting, and he was the one to see me off to my future.

I met his friends, who all loved me so. I re-met his family, who took to me kindly for a second time.  I slammed my fingernail in the car door and bled like a crazy person shortly after being completely promiscuous with him. We rediscovered the very first slow song we danced to. Recently, we had our second Valentine's day together. I realized that it was truly just a continuation of the relationship I left behind, but better, with more maturity and wisdom and happiness.

And guess what? I've broken my 4 month dating curse. Brody and I are at seven months.

But like I said before, something also happened. I said something I never thought I would say in a million years, but I said it, and I'm coming to wonder if it was the right thing to say or not.

But this morning, after waking up with him and kissing him and holding him, I looked him in the eyes, full of emotion just as passionately strong as that first night we spent together, and said, "Brody, I think I would marry you one day."

And he said back, "I would love to have you as my wife when that time comes."

And I wonder. Could this possibly be it?

The Garbage Disposal Monster

February is almost over. I feel like it's been centuries since I've written anything on here. But that's okay, because I suddenly remember why. (My computer chair limits the comfortable positions I can sit and type in, thus furthermore hindering my motivation to jump on here and rant. It might also be due to the fact that I don't have time to do everything that I want to.)

I apologize if my English has gotten a little lazy, or if my writing capabilities have been stunted. I like to see myself as an all-powerful writer of greater intelligence, but since I don't have any English classes, I've already set myself up for disappointment. I also can't math. That's because I refused to take AP Calculus both days. I mean, pardon my language, but fuck that shit.

 Could I tell you a story about the adventures of last night? It's a family oriented story, mostly PG. I only add that in because I'm sure the nothingness that's reading my posts is sick of hearing about dramatic love complications and my complaints about the human race. So here's something new!

Last night after my family had dinner, it was Eric's turn to do dishes. He's an incredibly responsible and hardworking boy who doesn't complain too much about the messes made while dinner is in effect. In fact, he just grabs his headphones, plops them on, blasts his weird music scavenged from the 1980's pop music void that is my father's iTunes, and quietly completes the chore. He's a wonderful little boy.

But sometimes his hard work is disregarded entirely. See, when my dad enters the kitchen, it's time to just get out of there and turn your eyes elsewhere. I love him, he's a quirky dude, but he makes scary messes when he does any kind of cooking. Two Thanksgivings ago he managed to get Diet Dr. Pepper inside the toaster and on the ceiling. Two weeks ago I came home to a mess of onion shavings all over the floor, sink, and counters. It's reaching a point where you're sure a monster will suddenly claw its way out of the garbage can and infest the entire kitchen permanently.

Well, last night we almost had a frightening, monster-out-of-the-dark-depths experience. My dad gets these random spurs of joy whenever the fruit and vegetables at stores are lower prices. He then commits himself to a day or two of intense fruit-and-veggie-only drink diets. He has this fancy juicer that he LOVES to use. And the boys love to watch him chuck a whole apple into it and see only the juice come out. He was doing some of this last night.

But it never occurred to me to ask the question of where the left over fruit guts go when he's done juicing it. As far as I knew, it was tossed into the scary metal thing and never seen again. Oh boy was I wrong.

I was sitting in the living room, minding my own business and doing my homework, when everyone in the house hears  my dad say, "Shit!"

Normally that means something bad happened, but we're used to it happening because he always says that. Then he says, "Oh boy," and that's when my mom gets concerned.

"What happened, Karl?"

Apparently he had decided it was okay to just throw all of the fruit and veggie guts into the sink and let the garbage disposal take care of it. He had said that he'd done it in the past and it had been fine before. This is the first time it has done this.

And my mom assured him that it was the last.

My parents ran about the house looking for buckets and towels and power drills and oggers. I stayed on the couch. I figured I would just quietly listen to their struggles and laugh to myself inside. My dad was adamant about helping out and fixing it himself, since he knew that this was all his fault. I could see it on his face. At one point my mom told him they needed to buy liquid plumber, but she had had a few drinks and so she couldn't drive. I shrunk deeper into the couch. My dad volunteered, since once again, he knew how deeply of fault he was, and my mom was unsure of how stable he was about driving, since he had had a drink earlier that night as well. I shrunk even deeper into the couch, trying to appear unknown to the world.

I had nothing to fear, however, because my dad said he was fine and he bumbled out of the house to his car. Then the world went silent for a while.

It was later that night when I was downstairs in my room, trying to sleep, when I heard my dad come in and start plunging the sink upstairs, making a constant thump thump thump noise. I don't think he really believed that liquid plumber would work, but it eventually stopped.

Back to why Eric was concerned at the beginning of the story. His clean kitchen after the dishes were done was turned into a giant juicy mess. And I felt bad for him, because I know the feeling. The poor guy. I feel bad for the next little boy that has to do the dishes tonight. Because when I got home from school, I found the kitchen still in its state of hopeless disarray.

Today's lesson is not to put fruit guts down the disposal, and to clean up after yourself. It creates sadness and havoc for poor little boys like my brothers.

Artistic Abilities Challenged

Sometimes I look at the world around me and think, "Monsters. The lot of them!" Because when you think monster, I'm sure that in  your mind's eye you see something huge and scaly and dripping with slime. Some people might picture a hated person as the monster in their life.

I see both.

I see Monsters in Society.

Now, see, don't wriggle too much. Don't read this and think, "What the hell is she talking about?" It's very relevant. You'll see. I promise.

Ba-dum-dum-duh!

I made it into AP Art. I transferred out from my Teacher Assistant role in my beloved Physiology teacher's class to join a high-end, probably-filled-with-scholarships art class. But I transferred in after one quarter, so I'm a bit behind. I'm supposed to do 12 concentrations and 12 breadths for my 24 piece portfolio at the end of the AP year to get a score. Supposedly you have to have 3 concentrations and 3 breadths done by now. I've only just finished one little breadth.

For my concentration, I have to have a repeating theme in 12 pieces of work that has a meaning behind it, and I didn't know what I was going to do for the longest time. But just recently I decided that I'm going to do (Yes, you guessed it!) Monsters in Society.

It is legitimately images of realistic looking monsters in societal roles and demonstrating how conforming to society has turned us into a monster. For example, I've begun a picture of a female celebrity with three heads and fins in a woman's body, very thin and very pretty, in a spotlight on the red carpet.

Commonly, people say, "Oh but it's just a celebrity. She's so beautiful!" Exactly. They are connected to the media, and the media is what is negatively influencing people all over the world. I am media right now, and I could be negatively influencing you right now, since I'm taking hate about media. (What a confusing logic we endure.)

I'm not always confident in my artistic abilities, especially now that I've seen some of what other people have done in my new class. (There are some real artists in there.) But I know that for my own race against personal status, I can do my best in this moment. She's turned out so well so far.

So wish me luck in my endeavors in drawing awesome monsters for the AP guys. I hope that's unique enough for them. 

Kaeli's Rampage takes another Turn

Kaeli has decided to take it upon herself to tell all her "friends" around the school that I had taken her boyfriend into my room, had a wild sex affair, and that she had to call my mother to find us.

First of all, she doesn't have my mom's number. That's bullshit.

Second of all, we went golfing, that one day long long ago, for twenty minutes before she interrupted.

Third of all, after everything she's told about poor Brody's dick and all her sexual experiences, the thought of even...AGG. I can't even type it it's so rottenly disgusting.


That's where her problem lies, you see. Notice how she thinks it's okay to tell the whole school about her sex life? She doesn't even realize it, but she really is putting her boyfriend down. His image is being shattered by her constant descriptions and chattering. He is seemingly more impure more and more, and I wonder if it's because Kaeli wants her boyfriend to be lowered to her status.

It's no secret that she's slept around with a couple of guys. (Mostly fat, ugly ones if you ask me.) It's obvious that she's spoiled and has nicer things. And it's very frank that she's a little messed up emotionally and mentally, because she cannot seem to let this go.

I understand that yes, she was the victim, and it always hurts worse when you are the target. But I only told her the truth. Truth hurts, Kaeli, I'm sorry, but you need to learn that soon. She was, also, caught off guard, but I don't give a flying fuck if she was. Too bad.

I'd like to point out one little thing.

How is it that she can tell rotten lies about her boyfriend and I, making her boyfriend look JUST AS BAD, yet manage to still love him and shit? Jesus. Does she even let him SPEAK to another girl?

Whatever it is that's going on, I just want her to know that the reason why she doesn't have any friends any more is because she needs to get her shit together and chill the fuck out. She needs to let go of the past, stop spreading rumors, and quit being a completely self-centered bitch all the time.

And if Kaeli ever in a million years really does read this post, then: Sorry, but it's the truth.