I Guess It Would Be Best to Write Everything Down

Highlights of today:

In philosophy:
"Well I think my real friends would help me kill the prostitute."

"So if Val got AIDS, and he was gonna spread it, would you kill him?"
"Yeah, I'd probably have to take him down"

"Well you took a risk when you had sex with me"
"You should have told me you had AIDS!"
"Why would I have to tell you that?"
"You'd tell me if your vagina had teeth..."

What a class. Tomorrow promises a skit done as a musical. Ours involved my raping Jenn, after the lines "You've got a one-way ticket on the love express, leaving right now" and "Sorry baby, but this ticket's non-refundable.

On my ap lit essay (score 5/9) I got the following note:
"Analysis is so good, it's a shame you didn't see it as a metaphor."
That made me laugh. I should have known: everything's a metaphor in AP Lit Land

If you loved me, you'd buy me a pet sloth for Christmas. Or just any time. But if you think you're funny and try to get me a stuffed one, I will hurt you.

I've decided that instead of going to college, I'm just going to write poetry.
It's just too easy.
And none of that crap poetry that doesn't rhyme or have meter: Limericks. They're the highest form of poetry.

In the last day, I have written all of the following, none of which took me more than 5 minutes. (That number is probably 3).

(Written last night, to explain my career choice to my parents. I'll try it at dinner soon.)
(Remember to pronounce it "lim-er-ick-ist")

Now college was not right for me.
Told my mom, "Hold the tuition fee."
I now know my charge --
My work will be large.
A limerickist I will be!

(Written during philosophy, though the first two lines are from a long time ago)

I once knew a young man named Nate
Who suffered a terrible fate.
He went to the dance,
Tried his best at romance.
His best friend ran away with his date.
(or "But his friend ran away with his date.")

(Written between Maggie's locker and AP Literature, this one is about 100 Years of Solitude, so if you haven't read it, you may be a bit confused. It is a complete summary though, so you don't have to read it if you read my interpretation) (are-a-lee-an-oh)

A young man named Aureliano
Was deeply in love with his mom-o.
He took her to bed
And out loud he said,
"When it come to sex you are the bomb-o."

It made my teacher laugh, and that was the goal.

I can do other poetry too, I guess, if I'm willing to lower myself to that level.
Example from last night, my convincing Maggie to let me go to bed:

(22:19:58) Maggie: oh alan!
(22:20:03) Maggie: why must you leave me!
(22:20:25) Alan: Margaret you know I must sleep
(22:20:29) Maggie: i guessss
(22:20:32) Alan: lest in the morning I take a great leap
(22:20:42) Alan: and fall to my death off the side of a bridge
(22:20:59) Alan: as long as I find one with suitable ledge
(22:21:07) Alan: (bad rhyme.. too tired to do it right)
(22:21:13) Maggie: its cool
(22:21:14) Alan: and thus it's time to say goodnight!
(22:21:21) Maggie: haha ok darlin
(22:21:26) Alan: sleep well young girl. I know you will
(22:21:32) Alan: let moon creep in your window sill
(22:21:39) Alan: and know I'll meet you in the morn
(22:21:46) Alan: when day is young and minds not worn
(22:21:52) Alan: [bows]

(that was a minute and a half, including typing time.)

Have a nice day, if such a thing would please you.

The National Honor Society is bullshit.
But I think everyone knew that already.

For the induction, we had to be dressed "properly" (a shirt and tie), which brought up a few questions in my mind:

If I wore an inappropriate tie (that is, with naked people, drugs, shaped like a giant penis, etc.), would that no longer be appropriate attire? Probably not.
What if the inappropriate tie was made of silk. That makes it a bit better, right?
Well what if it's silk and I wear a vest/suit coat with it. Does the appropriateness of the vest cancel out the inappropriateness of a tie? I think it does.
But what if the vest only covers the top half of my ribcage, like one of those vests monkeys wear when they play accordions? What then?

Just asking.

So during parent night at my school, I was part of a team talking to classes in place of my past English teacher, who had to catch the last train out of town.
This one woman was openly hostile about the teacher's teaching style, which was really uncomfortable for us presenting...
So to make up for it, we stole our teacher's most prized possession (a three-foot tall statue of Frankenstien's monster) and hid it in the room of one of her "rivals." Of course, we made a series of clues to lead her to it. I'm either going to be commended or suspended.
*shrug*

Oh, today I saw the very first movie in the very first Newark Film Festival, instead of staying in school.
Lindsay and I had a good time. It was an inspiring movie about paperclips.
Good stuff... what a good day.
Even if National Honor Society is total crap.

How could it have been so easy? How could that one word have that much power? So she thought he was "intriguing." Is that enough to knock us all out of reality? Are our anchors so light?
As soon as that word came out, we were gone. The cards fell from our hands to the wood table below. Forgotten tricks in a forgotten game, the score gone forever. We sat dazed, in our circle, trying to speak with no success. The words were awkward and riddled with pauses, but we all felt right at home. Long rifts in the conversation became common, as we drifted further and further from where we had started. Aimlessly, we pressed on into the clouds. We had to get outside. We needed a walk, to clear our heads.
The street was bathed in ugly light. The moon, which had shown its whole naked body just hours ago, was now intermittent, hiding behind a smokescreen of clouds. The world was a haze as the yellow lights beat down from their black cages on the sidewalk. We walked in the middle of the street. It was too late for cars to be a worry.
We pushed into the darkness. We were following the road, but none of us knew where it led. Behind us appeared a woman, walking fast. With a cell phone in one hand and her shoes in the other, she passed us, quickly wearing away the soles of her recently white socks. Soon, she vanished into the mist. We passed the corn field, heeding the warning sign and sticking to the hard concrete of the road. Reaching an intersection, we stopped. We were too short on time to press any further, but no one wanted to return. We sat down in the street, and the world spun around us. All the roads were the same -- all houses identical. Our rest was brief, and when we rose, we knew which way to go.
Our path ended quickly. The next intersection revealed a man, standing right in the center of the joined roads. He could have been as lost as we, but we knew we could not approach him. We were gripped with terror, we had to turn back, and return the way we came. Reaching our intersection again, the light shifted. As the world turned eerily blue, we started toward home. The moon still taunted us. We could see it behind its mask of clouds, but no light came through. It would not dare come out to a world as unreal as ours.
We passed a idling car with no lights on. The tinted windows prevented us from seeing inside, so we continued. The driver did not concern us. We passed another car with the engine on. This time, a woman was collapsed on her steering wheel. We wanted to make sure she was ok, but we couldn't approach her. What if she was dead? What if it was all an illusion, and she was just a product of the blue light surrounding us, a vision in the mist that had crept into our minds?
We moved on, but could not stop focusing on collapsed woman. We passed two people, sitting on their porch, staring, and not saying a word. Did they know the state we were in, and were they watching us, entertained by our ridiculous behaviors? Or were they in the same place we were, and just as confused? We passed a plack totem, placed in the grass, and just kept walking.
It couldn't be real, could it? It just wasn't possible. It was too surreal. It was the light, the hidden moon, and that one word, echoing across the street with every step. "Intriguing." Intriguing.
We made it back, but we couldn't go to our houses. We had to check on that woman. What if she was dying, and we found a story about her the next day? What if we could save her? We loaded into a car.
The car cut through the dark at top speed, slicing through the dark. We reached her house, but she was gone. The car remained but the woman was gone.
We turned around. We couldn't take any more. We returned to the house, and split into our cars as fast as we could. We had to ground ourselves. We had to return to somewhere less intriguing, to flee back into the embrace of what we had known so long.
But will we ever make it back?

Whoever thought that being able to view a random livejournal was either a genius or a sociopath, and I'm honestly not sure which. I guess it's kind of like group hug or post secret in that you get to read about someone you don't know.

My friends are all wimps. Apparently the remnants of a hurricane that might (but won't) hit us are enough to scare them from the beach. The forecast is for it to be hot and then rain incredibly hard once or twice. That's perfect.

Some people just don't appreciate rain.

I realized today that the music scene will actually become good again just in time for me to really enjoy it.

I was going to write a long and insightful post about why that's true, but now it won't happen.

I never post because I don't have the time or inclination. I don't comment for the same reason.

That's enough

I've been forgetting everything... it all started with my e-mail password. I remembered it yesterday morning and by last night it was gone. It's still not back, and I'm on the verge of giving up. You'd think I couldn't forget something I typed every morning for a month but I did.
Now it's spreading. Soon I'll forget everything.
At least all my experiences will be new and exciting then, but it might make tests a little harder.

From one of my parties this week:

Kaitlyn: We were in Canada, at the biggest mall in the world.
Me: Who goes to the mall?
Kaitlyn: No, but it was cool, it has the largest indoor roller coaster anywhere -- bigger even than in the Mall of America.
Me: Yeah, but with the exchange rate, it's actually smaller than the mall of America.
Kaitlyn: Oh..

The old guy on the corner of these two not too busy roads sold 1,000 ears of corn last weekend.
I wonder how much the local supermarket sold?
1,000 less, I guess.

Seriously, Sports Night was the best show ever.
If you've never watched it you should consider getting the DVDs or just generally reevaluating your life.

This evening, after my last day of work for a week and a half, was the second of the infamous Culture Days (nights?).

I'll cover work first.
It was a really good day -- everything went wrong. Work is a lot more exciting when I have a lot of things to fix. Also, I've been there 60 days, so I now get more benefits and I got a performance review. Everything perfect, except that I need to talk to people more. *shrug*

On to Culture Day. I was late (well, it was only Lindsay and I, so really it didn't start until I got there) because for whatever reason my brain decided it wanted to go home, so I drove halfway there before it said "oh yeah.. culture day."
But Culture Day was a spectacular success, once again. Although the Indian restaurant was more romantically designed than I had recalled (apparently I've never been there), the food was, indeed, amazingly good, if a bit expensive.
Then Lindsay and I spent the rest of the night playing games. I taught her Go, we played some Rummy. Standard stuff. I didn't buy a tarot deck for the French game... I'm just going to make one out of the zombie decks that inhabit my house.
When I played guitar at Lindsay's house, I realized I've forgotten nearly everything I ever knew how to play. However, since I just restrung it, it doesn't matter. It all sounds amazing.
Hooray for cheating.

Tomorrow I'm off on an expedition, which means I have to wake early, again. I've only been sleeping 6 hours a night this week, and yet, I still have not time left. No time at all. Where does it all go?
I can't remember the last time I slept in.
Also, this week, I've been leaving early and coming home around 11 each night. It's kind of like my old job, just with "hanging out with people I like" in place of "contemplating killing myself with a knife that was recently used to cut raw meat." As a note, that's not as disgusting as it sounds -- I haven't been cooked either.
Back in a few days with a massive post. Maybe.

Today, we ate dinner with the family of the president of our church. My father, of course, is president-elect, and they are just generally cool people.
The food was very good, and I'll now spend a few moments on it.

The meal included both stuffed grape leaves and olives. I found that I appreciate green olives much in the same way I appreciate wine. That is, they taste really good right at first, and then leave an awful aftertaste that I can't stand. As a note, I love black olives.
The grape leaves, of course, have the opposite effect. I find them repulsive at first taste, and then delicious as they linger in my mouth. If somehow I could have some form of olive-grape leaf hybrid, I would be all set. Either that or I'd be doubly repulsed. I imagine it would average out about the same.

I learned a lot too, at the meal. The hosts are vegetarians, and they taught me much about some of their meals. I learned most about two subjects.
The first was, of course, coconuts. Apparently coconut oil is actually about the best oil for you, despite everything you've learned as a child. Aside from being the only oil that doesn't degrade into trans-fat when heated, it fights cancer and gives you supernatural powers. I'm pretty sure only one part of that was a lie. Apparently the companies that make hydrogenated oils (we all know those kill you, right? As our host said "they're like machine gunners inside your body") went on a large anti-coconut propaganda spell back in the 70's and 80's. Although it was all false, the society was taught that coconuts are bad for you, and, despite a successful lawsuit against the evil hydrogenated oil companies for defrauding the public, that illusion exists still today. Until tonight. It's been broken now.
The second, and much more interesting, was about chocolate.

Our hosts discussed how good chocolate is for you, when in the form of cacao. They brought out a bowl of crushed cacao beans that looked a whole lot like a bowl of marijuana. At least, that was my initial perception. Then they discussed the merits of cacao, namely that it is the most powerful anti-oxidant in the world, that it raises your energy naturally (it doesn't actually have caffeine, except maybe a bit in the skin, apparently), that it is the only plant other than marijuana with cannaboids in it (and if not for the fact that it is rooted in our society it would be illegal, perhaps), and that in addition to those "psychotropic" effects it releases one of those endorphin-like chemicals in your brain and even slows the absorption of that chemical so that it lasts longer.
Of course, when you heat/process the cacao, it loses 80% of it's healthy properties. The other 20% go when you add milk, so milk chocolate isn't good for you at all. To continue the drug metaphor, cutting your cacao makes it less effective, and cacao cut with milk is the worst.
Most people can't stand the cacao on its own, as it is somewhat bitter to the taste, but I, raised on ridiculously dark chocolate, actually really like it. And it does help focus your mind, as I was promised. No perceptible drugging, but I guess the added focus helps. I bet I could make a lot of money with his pitch at my school, selling raw cacao beans.
Seriously, if you get the chance, try it. Cacao is incredibly good for you, delicious (well.. sort of), and is like a drug. Have fun.

We ended the evening playing a huge number of games, including favorites such as Oh Hell and Go, and new favorites such as some French Tarot game and "Twixt," an old game from the 60's that was surprisingly good.

It was a good night, and I learned a lot. Also, I got delicious, druglike pure cacao.
I hope you learned something from reading this post, otherwise.. why did I even bother typing it?
"Culture day" tomorrow with just Lindsay. Will it be awkward or just awesomely cool? You'll find out... tomorrow.
Maybe.

Busy day today.

I woke up early, as I so often seem to, and I went quickly off to church to play guitar with Corwin. We formed an emo band that targets depressed teenagers as an audience. We made one song, and we're pretty happy with it. It will, of course, be our last for this band, but who knows when we might make another?
When that got tiring, we started poking around behind the elementary school whose park we were stealing (the school is right across the street from my church, which is why we went there). We found a fairly rusty piece of construction equipment that appeared to once be used for cutting concrete, but the blade was gone. There was liquid in the gas tank, but I'm fairly sure it wasn't gasoline. We were far too scared of its potential to spontaneously explode to try to start the thing. We dug through their storage trailer, which they left unlocked. That's a really bad idea, of course. If we'd wanted to, we probably could easily have taken several hundred dollars worth of random stuff (construction equipment, computers, and so on) from that thing, but we didn't.

After church, I went home and ate a small lunch before proceeding to the library, where I failed to find anything really helpful toward picking a play (30 minute time limit, prefer 3-5 characters. Suggestions?). However, I took the books I did find and skimmed the plays in the park to rule out anything the wrong length or the wrong number of characters. Later I'll have to read the (three?) plays I have left.
I returned to my house, and gave my guitar it's annual restringing, so it sounds really, really nice right now.

This of course, caused me to be later than all the people whom I invited to Shakespeare in the Park. The play was only marginal -- Love's Labour's Lost is not his best work, but I suppose it was entertaining. Then our group of four went to the movie store to try to find something to watch, eventually settling on A Beautiful Mind which I'd never seen. I liked it, but it was rather too long, and it is the reason I'm here updating so very late, even though I have to work tomorrow.
Well, "have to" is a relative term. My job is so flexible I don't have to go in at 9, but I will anyway. Because I'm a masochist. Apparently.

On the way home, Brandon and I drove through a good deal of fog. Driving through fog is an amazing experience because all the lights spread out, and traffic lights become incredibly visible, bathing their entire surrounding region in a swath of green (or red... curses) light. As I said to Brandon, "well, if we have to die, I can certainly think of worse places." There's something sublimely beautiful about the light pushing through the fog. I hope you understand that, because at this hour I cannot properly describe it.

I want to take up photography in the style of Guy, but our digital camera is all kinds of broken. Oh well, I guess another time.
That's all for tonight, no big insights. Maybe tomorrow

So my plan for the day was simple: go down to the pond for the day, and then to the drama party at night.
This of course, did not happen. So few of my simple plans do.

After an uneventful morning (although I spent a good time reading these awful story openings), we set off for the pond where my friend has a house, for our "extended family," SADOTA (Sons And Daughters Of The either Arts or Anarchy or something else). It is important to note that none of my extended family is related to me, we just all go to the same church and know each other really well. Actually that wasn't important, but it's sort of interesting. I guess.
So I made it down to the pond, where I saw Carrie and Steve lazily waiting for me. Apparently they take their "lounging at the pond" very seriously. I also met the legendary "Liz," who is Steve's girlfriend. We proceeded to burn the afternoon with a series of rather uninspired conversations about whatever came up. It was relaxing though, which I suppose was the point. When evening came, and Steve and Liz wandered off to some car meeting, I played Carrie some guitar, which was cool, as I never get to play it anymore. It was mostly my repertoire of old songs that I still remember and improvisation in the keys of Am and G. And maybe some others, because who can keep track of keys anyway?
Eventually we left the pond, far too late for me to even hope to make it to my party, but that's life. Who needs to party anyway when you can relax by a pond?

When I got home I started recruiting people for Shakespeare in the Park tomorrow. Also, Corwin and I are going to be guitaring in the park. Additionally, I talked to Christy, and we might do something, which would probably involve getting together in another park. I could have a three-park day tomorrow.
I actually have done a lot of catching up with people online tonight, including a bit with Christy and with Sarah from Delaware. I worry about that Sarah sometimes, and I feel kind of guilty. The two of us almost dated once, and I feel that if we had, a lot of her life might have been different.
But that's life.
That's all for tonight, please resume your lives.

Here it is, in a style befitting both Ivan Denisovich and Nausea

Today I went on a hiking trip that was doomed from the start. My feet were torn up from ultimate frisbee going into it, and in the morning I was sick. I assumed it was just the diet of grease and blackberries I had subsisted on yesterday, and proceeded to where we were meeting for our backpacking practice.
Getting there, I was no better, but for some reason I said I was -- who can account for my unreasonable claims? I loaded up my pack with a light 50 pounds, and set out.
The first hour was wonderful. I felt much better, and I had time to think about my life and look at all the nature. There is something about nature that makes it pleasing to the eyes, especially for those of us who spend all day staring at computers where they work.
The illness then returned, with full force, but in a different form. During the day, I went through all the stages of the flu, if one were to catch a form of the flu that starts and ends in one day. In minutes I went from enjoying a rather pleasant hike to feeling like I was dying. I was sweating a lot, and it wasn't too hot outside. My body quickly began to ache, but I pressed on. What else could I have done? Miles from the cars, I had very little opportunity to escape.
By lunchtime, I was a mess. Each step brought another sharp pain that twinged through my whole body. I was slowing the whole group, but no one minded because my face looked so white. Or so I was told. Sitting down at lunch was the best feeling in the world, finally off my feet, if only for a few minutes. I thought maybe my small meal would help me gain strength again.
But of course, I thought wrong. I cannot prove that it was the meal that made my condition worsen, it might have just been the progress of the illness and the lack of a real time to rest. As I continued I felt I could not even breathe properly, my body had become too weak to take full breaths while there was so much weight pressing on my chest. I still had a form of fever that made me sweat faster than I could drink water, even if I had had enough water to drink. Three liters, it seems, was not enough for me today.
Eventually it became too much. My body was exhausted, and with every step seemed to scream "STOP" back at me. I wondered why my body would betray me as it did, since we've had a rather good relationship in the past. My muscles began to cramp up, and I had to ask to take the "shortcut" back. Another mile's hike. What else could I do? I had to keep walking. Though our leaders offered to go get a car to come get me at the road, I wouldn't do that. I could fail, but I could not fail that much.
So I pushed through the last mile, which, thankfully, was mostly downhill and therefore slightly less deadly to my tired body. We came at last to the place where I would split from the group, and I plopped down on a rock. I could still hear what people said, but it took a lot of work to understand it. My body had resigned, giving up on the hope of making it any further. As I sat and recovered from the excruciating hike, I watched four swallowtail butterflies in a bizarre mating ritual. Butterfly orgies. Bizarre.

That seems like a fitting place to end. It probably wasn't as bad as I made it sound there, but that's style for you. It's all in the exaggeration.

Somehow, I got sucked into making one of these again. I don't know how that happened, but it did. Again.
So, a brief introduction. I want this to be a way for people to get a little insight into my life through my eyes. It's also a place for me to experiment with various styles, as I write a little about my life.
That makes me feel so wrong. Who likes writing about themselves?
I guess I will, or this won't last very long.
Again.

Well, that was the introduction. A real post later today, probably.