So
there’s this kid I used to know. For all intents and purposes, let’s
refer to him as ‘Manny.’ Now, when I was around ten or eleven, this kid
Manny used to follow my around school like a rodent. Literally. When
looking for me, one could always count on .”Manny the Muncher” to be
close behind on my heel. This remained cute for about 3 months, and then
I decided that my ‘social life’ was going through a ‘ recession’
because of Manny’s ‘friendship.’ At least, that’s what I told Manny when
I broke the news to him, poor kid.
Now,
I bring this up because Manny has recently become very popular amongst
the ladies, and it’s got me wondering what exactly I’d given up way back
in the Stone Age of the 6th grade.
I guess what brought this on was seeing him on Thursday by The Point by The Point.
This
is something that I probably should have explained in more detail, but
basically The Point by The Point is a special spot that only a couple
people know about, which is located within a more popular area named The Point.
Anyway,
all the kids who don’t listen to the radio usually sit around there and
act depressed, but on
this particular Thursday no one was around. I guess everyone besides me
was feeling pretty good.
Walking
along the rocky waters, I’m getting a grasp of life and figuring out
the purpose of my existence when I hear this INSANE bird squeaking away
like it’s singing or something.
I’m
not sure how to feel about this. On one hand, I want to strangle this
bird because how dare it interrupt my soul searching thoughts. Then
again, the Universe might possibly be trying to communicate a message to
me my sending down this possessed creature to lead me to a life of
peace. Like in the lion king. Hukuna ma tata and such.
All
this thinking is depressing, but I’m not sure why, which is also
depressing, so I sit down before I completely baffle myself and end up
leaving worse than I was before.
I sit there trying not to think and be so utterly arcane, which as you
can imagine is quite difficult for me, so imagine my surprise to see non
other than Manny standing right infront of me. As if he had been
summoned by my mere thoughts, as he had been all those years ago.
But yeah, it was a real ‘kick in the teeth.’
(La La)
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
The First Variable: Life
Life is a social experiment gone wrong, and I don’t know who to blame.
Maybe it’s my parents’ fault, or maybe the Universe, or maybe God. Maybe those all are the same thing in some mystical, syfy way that can’t be understood. All that matters is that in a couple of seconds my mother is about to humiliate me beyond repair, and I can’t stop her because society has decided it would be rude.
Let us pray.
~ Mental Note (La La)
People like to assume that I actually care about their lives. For once and for all, let me set the matter straight. I do not care whatsoever. Though I might conform to societies wishes and portray myself as nice, easygoing, likable girl, I am actually disgusted with ninety-ninety percent of people I come into contact with.
Lets take Marty Fits for example. Here is what might be considered a decent human being. At first, second, and third glance, he seems to be a decent –and I quote my parents – “young man.” Yes, it is true that everything in his dress, air, and manner are pleasing. That is until you get in his business. Take me for example. An innocent bystander, walking down the halls, when suddenly I over hear what might potentially be a very juicy fight.
It is my God and Constitutional right (which one should I place first? Just a thought) to walk where I may, and neither rain nor government nor angry teenager (oh my!) will get in my way.
“I need it now! I have to met with these Stupid parents today and I can’t function without it,” says the voice of the infamous, the loved, Marty Fits.
Who wouldn’t investigate further?
I sneak into the abandoned hall, and creep behind the door.
“No cash no stuff. That's the deal.”
This eloquent speech is followed by a bang and a string of curse words (I figure I won’t say them if I don’t write them). Figuring this was the time to make my exit, I slowly back away from the door. I am usually a very stealthy person, so it must’ve been some sketchy fate that a trash can magically appeared behind me.
“What the…?” The magically Marty crashed through the front door. I was frozen in mid squat, sinking deeper and deeper into the floor with each nano second.
Now, in thinking back, maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but in my defense…
What’s a girl to do?
Like I said, life is a social experiment gone wrong.
Maybe it’s my parents’ fault, or maybe the Universe, or maybe God. Maybe those all are the same thing in some mystical, syfy way that can’t be understood. All that matters is that in a couple of seconds my mother is about to humiliate me beyond repair, and I can’t stop her because society has decided it would be rude.
Let us pray.
~ Mental Note (La La)
People like to assume that I actually care about their lives. For once and for all, let me set the matter straight. I do not care whatsoever. Though I might conform to societies wishes and portray myself as nice, easygoing, likable girl, I am actually disgusted with ninety-ninety percent of people I come into contact with.
Lets take Marty Fits for example. Here is what might be considered a decent human being. At first, second, and third glance, he seems to be a decent –and I quote my parents – “young man.” Yes, it is true that everything in his dress, air, and manner are pleasing. That is until you get in his business. Take me for example. An innocent bystander, walking down the halls, when suddenly I over hear what might potentially be a very juicy fight.
It is my God and Constitutional right (which one should I place first? Just a thought) to walk where I may, and neither rain nor government nor angry teenager (oh my!) will get in my way.
“I need it now! I have to met with these Stupid parents today and I can’t function without it,” says the voice of the infamous, the loved, Marty Fits.
Who wouldn’t investigate further?
I sneak into the abandoned hall, and creep behind the door.
“No cash no stuff. That's the deal.”
This eloquent speech is followed by a bang and a string of curse words (I figure I won’t say them if I don’t write them). Figuring this was the time to make my exit, I slowly back away from the door. I am usually a very stealthy person, so it must’ve been some sketchy fate that a trash can magically appeared behind me.
“What the…?” The magically Marty crashed through the front door. I was frozen in mid squat, sinking deeper and deeper into the floor with each nano second.
Now, in thinking back, maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but in my defense…
What’s a girl to do?
Like I said, life is a social experiment gone wrong.
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