everything is fine

I can barely withhold my immense Christmas spirit! Christmas is everywhere. I went driving through the mall thing near my house and it's all decorated for Christmas. Lights strung up between the lamp posts and across the streets. Trees adorned with ornaments and lights and candy canes everywhere. And Santa sitting on a big chair, and a big line of kids waiting to tell him what they want. Or to cry. Or pee in his lap. Whatever it is that kids do while on Santa's lap. "It ruins it for me." She said about the omnipresent holiday. The Christmas inundation we already have. It's not even December yet and Christmas is kicking everybody in the balls. She doesn't want to hear about Christmas on the radio or on television yet because it's too early. Well it's too bad, I think, because I am already in the mood for holidays. Fuck finals! I've already finished most of my Christmas shopping. Which I think is kind of wrong. But oh well. It's alm

People are stupid. And so are children. Especially the children of stupid people. I decided to do some shopping today. I got some jeans and a nice button up shirt. The sleeves are a little shorter than I'd like, but the overall fit is so wicked that I couldn't say no. And, I mean, come on: it's black. So later in the day when I had gotten my clothes and my books, I went over to the nearby sporting goods store. You know, to look around. A horde of children had taken it upon themselves to take down all of the scooters and tricycles and made the store into a giant circuit race. I passed an employee and cocked an eyebrow. "I guess we get double duty as baby sitters." He said. The children weaved in and out of the sections and aisles, forcing aside soccer moms and football dads and almost-sorority girls. But not me. I stood my ground in the middle of the aisle as I compared the sizes of gloves. And I'm always in a bad mood. "Um, excuse me."

I thought, for a while, about why my pumpkin pie didn't turn out the way I wanted it to. Why it didn't turn out tasty as hell , I should say. It was mediocre at best. I could blame it on the poor quality of this season's pumpkin harvest. I could blame it on not having all the proper ingredients. I could blame it on being tired. But I think it was nerves. Making pumpkin pie is one of the few traditions that my family actually observes religiously. The guys get together and make the pie. And it always turns out excellently. When I was younger, my dad made it on his own. Then, when I was of cooking age, I helped him. And now, in his absence, I found myself making it alone. To some people, it's just making a pie. But it's more like a torch being passed on. And flickering, slightly. I was nervous, and I had something to prove. And I messed it up. But it was my first time to do it on my own. There's a trial period. It's just one of those reminders

The plate of turkey was offered to me as I rounded the table. They had taken the liberty of cutting it before I'd gotten there. I looked down at the platter. What had once been a nice looking bird was now a gruesome, mangled mess of meat piled on top of itself. No grace. No dignity. No refinement. Just raw savagery. I smiled and took my seat. The rest of the meal went as expected. People yelling to be heard over the yelling of other people struggling to be heard. Food being spilled all over the table and all over everything else. Boisterous laughter and virtually every single irritating mannerism I could have imagined. And when I couldn't take anymore, I fled to the relative safety of my room and closed the door and locked it. Locked out the infinite terrible that is my family. And then, after what was too short of a night to myself, I awoke to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade being blasted through the house. And then, I had Thanksgiving with Ashley's fami

I'm tired. And I don't do too terribly well when I'm tired. I get impatient. Cranky. I have mood swings and all kinds of bullshit. So I did what I do whenever anything happens--I ran. It's pathetic to be so self-aware and so not in control of yourself. I don't know. I am exhausted. What a long weekend. I just can't wait to go home for Thanksgiving. Have a few days off. Do some writing. See my doggie dog. Sleep. I feel like I slept a lot this weekend, but I don't think I really did. Why else would I be in such a bad mood now?

Today, I went to the gym and found something new. I found a room with pads on the floor and walls. A room with a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. It was like walking into a dream come true. It was exactly what I had been looking for for months. For years , even. And I attacked that bag. I'll be spending a lot of time there, I think. I have been in such an inexplicably good mood these last few days. I don't know what the deal is. Maybe it's because I've been eating so many bananas. It's probably because things are going pretty well and I'm just feeling good. Doing nice things, feeling confident. Good things. And most importantly, I'm feeling less tired. Maybe it was a diet change. Maybe it's all the exercise. I will probably never know, but that doesn't bother me.

I got really sad when I saw that the last time I had edited the file called zombie story.docx was 7/23/2009. It doesn't seem like it's been all that long, but it does. Because it has. It's a little ridiculous. I always have a rough time coming back to the writing after a break. I think I would probably not have such a rough time if I, oh I don't know, didn't take breaks from writing it. Maybe it would actually get done. Although, every time I come back to it with a fresh mind I get to go through and touch up everything I've written so far. It's just one of those, you know, things. Thinking about my zombie story all the time again makes me want to make a zombie movie. I will never be productive again. I've got an organic chemistry test tomorrow evening and I just can't seem to take any of it seriously. The panic hasn't started because it hasn't sunk in just how unprepared I really am. I am enjoying the delusion of preparation right

So I thought it would be a really good time to lay out a blanket and do some stargazing. And watch the Leonids come cascading across the November sky. Well it turns out that I really don't know my constellations, so I have no idea where Leo is. And birds look a lot like meteors. I fucking hate birds. It's been an interesting sort of day. I'm mostly glad it's just sort of over. I've got some motivation coming to get back into writing my zombie story, which is great. I've long needed a good kick in the dick in the balls to get cracking on that. It's just sitting there and I'm doing nothing with it.

If I had to pick a sin to represent myself and was unable to pick wrath , I would probably have to pick pride. When it comes to things that I consider myself good at--passionate about, even--I have a tendency to, well, consider myself pretty good at them. Like filmmaking. I hate having to share my creative outlet with other people. I just can't deal with it. I can't share the writing. I can't share the direction. I can't share the editing. It's in my head! How can they possibly expect to make something that's in my head? How can they expect to improve on my ideas? And so things go. Despite the complications and the stress and the sleep deprivation, the movie got finished. It got finished and turned in and I'm not super proud of it, but it's done. And my day ended after 36 hours. I think I'm going to just make movies on my own. On my own time. If I ever do, again. My geology contest actually went surprisingly well. Especially for how

I am lucky in that things always seem to work out for me. Maybe I'm forced to do something I really don't want to do. With minimal effort I'll come through with something completely amazing. Maybe I have to work on something I'm completely dispassionate about. All of the complications get figured out with ease and things turn out better than expected. It's the things that I want to work out that I struggle with. The little things. And that sucks. It's the little thing that you look forward to that you think is going to be worth dredging through all the shit for. And it never quite works out. It just sort of doesn't. And you come down to the end of everything and you end up not feeling anything at all. Self-sabotage. Self-inflicted wound. And I can't be mad because I have no more mad left in me. At this point, I have nothing left in me. I feel like an empty husk just sort of teetering around during its last few seconds before it gets blown ov

Me and my big mouth. I need to go back to the stage in my life where I didn't open my mouth and talk all the time. It gets me into trouble. What happened to my filter? I must be broken. Oh well. Today I looked down and thought to myself, man. My jeans are kind of loose. I could probably stand to wear some that are fitted better. Something that would compliment my body shape. Then I realized that I had already gone through this thought process and that the jeans I was wearing were already skinny. Any skinnier and I would be wearing skin tight pants, which is not okay. For a second I thought I finally understood why so many dirty hipsters ended up wearing tight pants that looked terrible. But then I remember that it's because they can't form a fashion sense of their own. I decided to set an ultimate goal for working out. I want to look like Brad Pitt from Fight Club . That guy is a fucking monster. Just all raw muscle. He only weighed, like, 155 pounds in that

The worst thing about good moods is that they are infectious. And today was such a nice day that people couldn't help but be in good moods which put me in a bad mood because I was in a good mood by proxy and couldn't help but be in a good mood. So I was in a good mood. And things are going well, I think. I mean, I could definitely find something to complain about, but I won't. I'm doing laundry now. I'm ready to play some music, again. Soon. It's been too long since that happened and I know this because I'm going through withdrawals . I also need to write. I've got some things bouncing around in my head. I just need that trigger of inspiration to come in. In a catalytic amount. So that these ideas can precipitate out. And it'll be glorious. I guess I just have to wait for winter break. We're doing the film contest thing this weekend and I'm having second thoughts partly because I'm flaky by nature and partly because, well, I

Today was just one of those days. One of those days where you wake up and everything and everybody is against you. These days happen to me more often than I like, but that comes with being a relapsing surly, cynical bastard given to frequent and extreme mood swings. Everything just got under my skin today. Maybe it was waking up early before my alarm clock. Maybe it was the laugh they made when they messed up the first time. Maybe it was the look they gave when they thought they were being funny. Maybe it was the inflection they took when they got cranky. Maybe it was everything. But I think I did a pretty good job of playing it down. Of not taking it the wrong way. Of not letting it get to me. I mean, by now I'm pretty used to the routine. And I know it's not being fair to people. It's not them, it's me. I'm the one who's blowing up. So, you know. It's all over. For some reason I thought that the meteor shower was tonight. It was what I was l

"I don't know why he's so upset. Like, I straight up told him, 'I don't know why you're so upset,' but he just, like, I don't know." She said to her friend perhaps a little too loudly. "Like, he thought we were exclusive but, I mean, I told him that we weren't, like, exclusive when we got together. So now he's all upset that I've been seeing other guys. I, like, totally don't understand him at all. He's just being ridiculous." I managed to overhear this conversation on my way to class this morning. While I could easily--and am certainly tempted to--write about this story is indicative about how terrible girls can be, I think it is more of an example of the constant failure of communication in relationships. It's something that everybody could stand to work on. Unfortunately, not enough people recognize this and that's why things fall apart and things get broken. Or flipped. And I don't think yell

One of my worst qualities is that I tend to obsess about things. I have obsessive tendencies. Especially when it comes to bad things. Even more so when it comes to bad things about myself. Like something I screwed up or did poorly on. I, for whatever reason, carry that weight around my neck as quickly as possible and never really let it go. It burns holes in me. And I think about it all the time. Maybe that's some kind of self-destructive bullshit I've got going on. I've been thinking a lot about traveling. I want to go somewhere. Well, I want to go to a lot of somewheres. Just pack up and check out a whole bunch of places. And also film it. I've been thinking a lot about that, too. I want to make a travel show called Gabe Goes Places and it'll be about me going places and doing cool stuff. And every episode will start the same way: with me yelling into the camera, "My name is Gabe and I go places." And then, with my adventure bag, I'll

It was late. I was tired and I wasn't really thinking straight. And so when I heard the man clear his throat in the office across the hallway, my heart fluttered. I stood up from my seat and took a step before I stopped myself. It wasn't my dad. He's not here. It was my uncle who is staying in his office. It was disappointing. I think I'm ready to get out of here. I tried getting along for a while and that's just not working out. I think it's time for me to completely get out. Get my own space and just start living. It's time for me to start my own life where people don't fight with you because you're studying and not cleaning. Where people don't get mad at you because you call someone else out for going through your stuff. I have never been one to tolerate favoritism, and in my absence I forgot that it runs rampant here. It's just time to cut my losses, I guess.

I hate using public restrooms. They are disgusting. It's worse for guys, I think. Girls tend to want things to stay clean and usable. Guys don't. There is always a puddle of urine directly underneath the urinal because the first guy apparently can't aim his stream, the second guy takes a step back so he isn't standing in piss and so on and so forth until you find yourself standing against the opposite wall trying to arc your urine into the porcelain but only adding to the urine pooling on the tile. It's, you know, pretty terrible. The thing that really sucks these days is that everything potentially cool happens on Thursdays. Maybe a professor will be giving a lecture on the scientific background of zombies. Which is something I could definitely get behind. Maybe it would give me the kick in the dick in the balls to get back to writing my story so that I could finish it before I die. Maybe Jester, in its infinite shittiness, will host a jam session and put

I am afraid of birds. Well, specifically, I'm afraid of birds pooping on me. I just really don't want to deal with bird poop. I don't even like stepping on bird poop on sidewalks. I'd rather walk in the street than walk across bird poop. It's just disgusting. Birds and the poops they poop are disgusting. Walking across sidewalks plastered in bird poop makes me cringe and want to die. I spent some time at the office today, which I think was a good idea. I will probably do that more often as long as I can spare the time. It's pretty fun to hang out and talk with friends like that. It's like the fast track to getting to know people. And I get to draw more, which is always a good thing. I had immediately forgotten his name, which made me feel bad. But in my defense, it was Halloween. "I've heard good things about you." He said. "Oh that's good," I replied. "Because I'm very self-conscious and struggle with my

Patient presents with nausea, dizziness, light-headedness, fatigue, and general sickness. Only allergic to minocin, has seasonal allergies. Currently taking ibuprofen, fluticasone propionate (nasally). No pertinent history. Last intake was a multi-vitamin. When I woke up this morning I felt incredible. I slept and slept and slept and when I woke up it was still eight in the morning so I slept some more. And after I showered I felt great. I was well rested and ready to tackle Monday. And then I went outside and immediately felt terrible. I don't know what the deal is. Maybe I'm dying. Who knows. Today was an especially exciting day in organic chemistry. There was a couple behind me who kept talking about random shit during the lecture. It was at this point in time that Dr. Bocknack began to discuss the dihydroxylation of alkenes , and drew the intermediate: an osmate ester . The couple looked up at the figure in confusion, abruptly ending their conversation about c

The music worked. We played for hours. It's good to finally meet someone who can match that enthusiasm. It was a good time. It was comfortable, which is hard to get with people. It was balanced. It was a conversation. I felt like I had found my musical niche. I wasn't struggling to keep up. I wasn't struggling to keep everything together. I wasn't stuck completing a formula. I just filled in when I felt like I could add something and laid low when I didn't. Nobody was there expecting me to do anything amazing--just to play. I had found my niche. And we jammed. And we'll be doing it again. Who knew a bass and a guitar would make such a good sound? I was really excited about getting to play soccer today, but according to the website we aren't scheduled to play tonight. So it's been, like, four weeks since I played soccer. I hate this. I guess I can just do laundry and watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles instead. I want to watch Nightmare