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Showing posts from September, 2009

You're the best, around.

I think the worst thing you can do is put a bunch of women in a room together. Like, I really think it's the worst thing ever. They can all be great, wonderful people individually but when you put them all together to play board games... it sucks. It's a mess because they don't know how to organize themselves. There's no order, just chaos. Chaos and loud, obnoxious women. What is it about women that makes them so loud and obnoxious when they congregate? Bunch of uncivilized savages.

And I, of course, am the wildly unbiased observer.I drew this in a rush, which explains why the background only has one color instead of three (which would have indicated layering) and why it just generally looks rushed. There is an actual plan to this story arc, but I couldn't resist responding to the comments my friend was making. I was running late to the Women in Medicine meeting which was actually interesting during the lecture portion. I also didn't get a chance to fo…

Sharks don't even observe shark week.

I totally would've forgotten about it. In fact, I totally did forget about it until it got mentioned today. But, you know, gotta play it cool! And, so, you know.

Yeah.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day. A long, inconvenient day. I think I'm going to go home this weekend. I'm going to go home and then go to a store and look at sweaters. Because I want to wear a sweater with a shirt underneath it.

Ready, amigo.

Man, I don't even know what I'm supposed to do about that. I can force myself to talk more while eating, even though that's a ridiculously hard habit to break. I can relax more. But how I use dining utensils? I mean, come on here. That's being a little ridiculous. Maybe I'm not the one who needs to relax.

What happened to it being quirky?Not that I'm upset or anything.

I've got another story arc planned out for my comics mainly because I don't feel like I can think of any more one-shot comics that are funny enough. So I have to go for depressing. The thing that I've found is that, no matter how depressing people find things to be, they can still laugh. At depressing things. It's because they don't know how else to react. And because they don't know, they try to find the funny side. It's a coping mechanism. And I love it.

I need to go clothes shopping. I need more button-up shirts. All of my button-ups have sleeves are too…

Kick in the dick in the balls.

I forgot how much I love playing soccer. That game is just fun. It's more fun that ultimate frisbee. Or disc golf. Soccer. It lets you get all your aggression out. Gives you a focus for it. Gets your blood pumping. There's nothing quite like the feeling of the grass ripping up under your cleats as you run down the field. Nothing quite like the sound of the ball bouncing off of your foot into the air. Nothing quite like the feeling you get when you intercept a ball at the last second and have it bounce back to hit them in the face.

Not that, you know, you do that on purpose.

It was a good game. And a good time coming back to find out a good test grade. Today was a good day. Soccer, grades, finally scheduled my exam. I have a good feeling about this week. I think it's going to be a good time. I feel different. I feel... good.

I'm excited.

But I'm a riot, yeah.

I don't really know if things are totally back to normal. Partly because I don't know if things were ever really normal and partly because I'm not really sure what constitutes normal. All I know is that I'm not worried about it. I've learned that people are not perfect. So, then, it follows that relationships between people will not be perfect.

And the trick to making it successful is accepting that it won't always be a great time. Something to work on, I guess.

A friend of mine told me that she believed that there wasn't one person out there for us. And she told me that the trick was just to find someone who makes you happy. And that's it.So I guess I really don't care if things aren't normal. I don't need them to be.

Excuse me, but wtf are you doing.

Organic chemistry tests are exhausting.I feel like my brain shut down an hour ago but the rest of my is either too stubborn or too dumb to realize it. Like, am I hungry? I don't even know. I am but I'm not? I can't even remember. Has anyone really been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like?

An experiment was carried out.

I have been told, from time to time, that I am too nice of a person. To the point where even when I'm trying to be mean, I'm still nice. To the point where I am a pushover. To the point where it makes people feel guilty.

To the point where it's a fault.

And so, as a thought experiment, I tried to figure out what constitutes as being nice. Obviously, the conscious efforts. Not so obviously, the unconscious efforts. So I sat and I thought about them and tried to eliminate them. How do you stop being a nice guy? First, you just act like everything is a normal, casual, boring experience. Don't get excited, don't ask for anything.

So I tried it.Maybe it was too drastic; somebody noticed.

Broken pedestal.

I can't say that I'm particularly surprised. I knew what I was getting into. I guess the lesson to take away from this is that people can be spectacularly stupid sometimes. Which is a pretty good lesson to learn. It's always nice to figure out what the people you spend your time with are really like. That way you hold them in a lower regard than you did before, just like they want you to.

I mean, if they didn't want that then they wouldn't bring it up all the time, right? I guess it's just disappointing.

I did some thinking last night. I'm making a mess of things.

Man, fuck everything.

Can't sustain like one half could.

Suddenly there is a lot to worry about. There's too much stuff to do. Stress levels, rising. Panic, panic, panic! Can't sleep. Too tired. Too much to do. Not enough time to take care of everything. I just need a to detox without running the risk of catching death. Or, I guess, I could bite the bullet on that one. Are things getting worked out? I can't tell sometimes. I think so. Or, I'd like to think so. I feel like they are. I think things are going well.

It's a matter of perception, though. Do I count as optimistic?

My head is spinning. I need to play some music. Write something? I need to write zombies. I keep thinking about it. Thinking about everything, really. I feel like I'm stressing out over finals, but it's just regular tests. And labs. And whatever else. I don't even know.

Also, what's up with people telling me things and then forgetting and acting like I'm a jackass when I remember? Is that, like, the new thing…

La da da da da da.

People are difficult.I'm tired.

I hope this old train breaks down.

I don't know. I just feel like shit and it's my fault. I just never have anything to say. I don't. I don't even know what I'm thinking or how I'm feeling. I don't. It's frustrating when people expect you to. The truth is, I can't really say what I want if I don't know what I want. That makes me sound like an idiot, but what can you do.

I just never know what to say. Nothing ever comes to mind.

Thought we were going together.

It's hard to know what to expect when you do things. So I just generally don't expect anything to happen as a result of my actions. This tactic invariably leads to one of two outcomes: disappointment because something bad happened (ie. I get in trouble) or awkward disappointment because nothing happens. They say things like, "I guess this didn't turn out the way you planned." and I think something like, Well no because I didn't plan anything, but this did turn out exactly how I imagined it would.

Awkwardly.

Sometimes I like to get on craigslist and look through the musician postings. There are always a bunch of them posting things like, "Need drummer" or "PROS ONLY - NEED GIGS" or "looking for like minded death metal grind core enthusiasts" and the like. But then there are some that are appealing to me. Like "lo-fi campus band seeks anyone for drums - have set" or "indie folk band seeks multi-instrumentalists -…

The job is done; the bitch is dead.

So today I went around listening to the Casino Royale soundtrack between classes. It was interesting. Listening to the intense tracks that correspond to action sequences while walking around doing normal daily activities.

It was too much.

It got me too pumped up. My heart was beating way too fast and I was getting adrenaline surges shuffling down crowded hallways. It made me really uncomfortable, actually. Like I needed to start running and jumping and pushing people out of the way. Like I had to do something important. Like I was Bond, James Bond.

And I started tutoring today with the Victory Tutorial Program. Neither of my assigned kids showed up. So I just sort of sat there and filled out some paperwork. Also, I need to brush up on my "school talk" Spanish. I have a week.

The key, the highlighter, the everything.

I don't even know where to buy flowers. Are there, like, flower stores? I don't know. There are things which I hesitate to do because, in my experience, surprises never work out the way you want them to. You put in the time and effort and thought, and then it all falls apart and doesn't happen like you imagined it would. Or someone tells you that they don't really even like surprises.I guess the question is, does that make it not worth the effort?

Follow Freeman.

My favorite thing about being in college and mostly self-responsible is that I can eat cereal straight out of the box and drink milk straight from the carton and nobody can tell me to put them together in a bowl and use silverware. It's, well, awesome.I got something off my chest and I feel like a free man.

You are a handsome devil.

I've recently had an epiphany. Or just a normal realization. Or just sort of remembered something. Well, a couple of things. You do not have to be religious to be a good or happy person. And I am a pretty okay person. Also, I'm a pretty happy person despite what my external and internal dialogues suggest.

Technically that is a few things.

But I can be a better person. And I've been trying. It's a good thing to do, I think. I'm also pretty sure this is not the first time I've resolved to be a better person, which is either a testament to my failure or an indication of my constant longing to improve the lives of others and the world around me by first improving myself.

It's the latter. Trust me.

I've also recently come to realize that I need to quit fighting it and just grow up. I'm technically an adult right now even though I don't act like it. And that's not okay anymore. It's time, I think, for me to start acting my age--or old…

Calling it moody jazz.

I literally have nothing to say.I'm sure that is significant.

She laughed at my rockstar dreams.

Ultimate frisbee tryouts have left me exhausted and sore, but I love it. It's super competitive and I basically have no shot at making it onto the team, but the week-long experience was totally worth it. And it was fun. And at least I can say I tried and gave it my best effort.

I regret nothing!

But I lost it today. I lost my cool. I told him I was excited about my dad coming home. "What are you, gay?" He asked, snickering. I bit my tongue and let it slide. He didn't know better. But the whole thing repeated itself later when we were in the car. I listened to a message from my mom. And then I lost it. I turned to him. "If you say one more thing about my dad I'm going to punch you in the fucking face." I could feel my blood starting boil and my fist started to curl by reflex. "Are you serious?" He said.

"I'm totally fucking serious."

I hate losing control like that. Of my temper, of my emotions, of myself. It's …

Go with the flow, you don't stop.

I wonder, sometimes, if the things I do--the things I am--actually push people away. Or if I just imagine that. And if so, is that something that you actively rectify or something you ignore and accept? I guess it comes down to whether or not I should worry. And I promised I wouldn't worry anymore. Oh well.Things are going well enough. I just need to get comfortable with where they're going. Whatever the fuck that means.