Bang, bang, bang, bang.

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 movie. Which is only 10 pounds more than I weigh now. All I have to do is change my body fat into muscle and I'll be an unstoppable juggernaut of sexy and badass. It's a good goal, I think. Plus, it'll end up being really good for Tae Kwon Do. Which I'm really excited to start doing again. I won't be so heavy or bulky that I can't move. So I'll still have speed on my side which will be backed by power.

All I have to do is, you know, start working out.

Comments

No, Holmes, no!

All I ever think about these days is how much I have to/want to study. I hope that's not how I have a good time, now. Would I rather go hang out with peeps or would I rather sit in and study? It is a difficult question to answer. Just a couple more days and then I can focus all my energy on the next greatest idea I've ever had: iconic detectives and sharks.

I wonder, sometimes.

I am standing on the edge of a cliff face. A breeze whips past me as I stare out into the darkness. It's a familiar sight, comforting. The river bends below me. It stretches out, away from me at both ends. The arch of the bridge traverses the river, silhouetted by the house lights and golf course below us. So far away from us. The highway reaches out before us, straight into the hills and disappears on the horizon. It is silent. There are no cars. No planes. No animals. It is just us standing on top of the cliff. As it should be. It's late. A late weeknight. Just a normal Tuesday night to the world. I step away from the edge. In 5 minutes, I will be 22 years old. It's a turning point in my life. A fixed checkpoint. I'm only 21 years old, I'm not an actual adult yet. Maybe legally. But I'm still a child. I'm immature, I laugh at fart jokes. I laugh at everything. Why would I take anything seriously? 21 years old and we still have no responsibilities. We c...

Side effects include constant irritability, being an ass.

It was a typical day in MUS 307 . A typical day where nobody pays attention to anything the professor talks about. A day where people play shitty flash games instead of take notes. A day where people sit and refresh their Facebook newsfeed instead of follow the slides. A day where people roll their eyes and go to sleep instead of listen to the music examples. A day where people get up and leave ten minutes before lecture ends instead of having the God damn decency to stay the whole time and pretend to be interested. I mean, if you're going to be so unaffected by the music we're studying in class then why the fuck did you take the class in the first place? Fuck it makes me mad. And I haven't even started talking about that fucker who sits in the back and tries to whistle along with every song that gets played in class. Alright, dude, we get it: you are just too cool and you know everything about jazz, ever. You know every standard ever written and everybody's so...

everything is fine

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