Thursday, September 23, 2004

If you break a leg, you have a friend. u.u

Well, I must have exactly zero friends then, since I've never broken a leg. : ( Despite the fact that it is still summer (and that the weather shows steady, sure signs of being aware of this), the principal decided it was necessary to make an announcement about the dangers of snowballs. Which I guess I can understand, seeing as--to the extent of my knowledge--a couple of people have been brained and made bloody-nosed within the past week. In 30 degree weather, no less. I sincerely hope that woman decides she hates us so much, she has every reason to quit. And that she will. Go project your whiney, shrill voice at another seven-hundred-fifty students for once, why don't you? Bah! If I could wish for one thing, it would be that every one in the world would, starting right now, stop, sit down, shut up, forget about everything they've let their inflated egos convince them is right, and think about what the person they're shooting at has to say. For ten minutes. If they can't reach any reasonable agreements after that, they can both shut the fuck up and build a mother fucking wall and never talk to eachother the fuck again. The sad thing is that that's probably the least likely thing to happen. Ever. Using a banjo as the sole instrument in a movie soundtrack totally ruins everything. I never would have thought that you could turn such a powerful, angst-ridden scenario into such a mock-fest. The fact that it was introduced by a man tied to a trane-track, lying on top of an ant hill didn't make one look at it any more seriously, either. Silly, silly filmmakers. : O Things Godel doesn't understand: -why my math teacher yelled at my classmate for congradulating her on the birth of her new niece -why we are not allowed to eat at picknick benches on school property -why they installed the garbage can so it is facing away from the fucking sidewalk, half obstructing the path one would take to the doors -why people believe any amount of crap the bible, koran, or any other collection of myths spews at them Religion = crap crap < stuff I rest my case. u.u (Using math and e'erything!) Which brings me to something that pisses me the hell off: the fact that modern society is willing to condone a set of principles that contradict everything we are supposed to believe in, simply because it's politically correct to do so. As an ethically-driven being, I cannot bring myself to accept any culture or creed that supports the disempowerment of women or any other group, regardless of the views of those who are made victims of it. If you find it spiritual to run around thumping books and wearing clothing/symbols that encourage the discrimination against perfectly equal, harmless parts of society, then you have got to be fuckwitted or something. Salt, I understand throwing your life into dissaray for. And that doesn't even happen any more. "God"? Oh, get a fucking life. Or at least let me live mine without hearing about your misconceptions. At all. Ever. Again. Seriously. It's like you aren't seeing that your entire set of beliefs is based on some dead geniuses' conquest. I don't give a crap who I'm offending, either--just for the record. *** Seeing as the life-expectancy of some one living in Japan is two or three years longer than that of some one living in Canada, equal to that of some one living in Australia, and about seven years longer than that of some one living in the US, I have yet another reason to move there one day.^^ Which, innevitably, logically, brings me to asking if any of you (other than Shin, who I forced it upon already--heh) would be so kind as to review the following: “Do you think justifying what we’re doing right now as our not getting into drugs or joining gangs is just a way of hiding the fact that we’ll never be prepared for real life and that we have no social skills whatsoever?” “What do you—don’t use up as jump—what are you talking about?” “Well, think about it. At the age we’re at now, we don’t have to do anything for ourselves. I mean, our parents pay for everything for us, and we see the fact that we avoid talking to people not as something that might cause a future hindrance, but as a benefit because we don’t have to be around to support people or fulfill obligations this way.” “So? I told you to stop using up as jump. I’m kicking your ass…” “In real life, we’re going to need to talk to people, and we’re going to have to face peer pressure. I mean, it’s not like adults are exempt from being horrible, stupid, biased people that treat any one who’s different from them and their little group as inferior. At least the kids who let themselves buy into that crap when they’re still, you know, kids, learn better and know what to avoid doing. All we’re doing right now is avoiding that whole circumstance, just by keeping away from every one we don’t know, because we’re afraid they might make fun of us or make us want to change ourselves.” “And that’s a bad thing? Would you seriously rather be out buying expensive jeans and smoking? I’m still kicking your ass, you know. I told you it’s better to use lightweights in this mode.” “Maybe and no. I mean, it’s not the expensive jeans and smoking I have any second thoughts about shying away from. It’s just that we’re basically sitting, wasting away our years of youth and beauty in front the TV, playing video games, and on the computer, putting all of our effort into making ourselves noticed on forums and in fan-listings and writing pointless, long-winded, angst-ridden entries on blogs that no one of importance is ever going to look at, let alone care about.” “Hey, man, my blog gets over a hundred hits a week. Speak for yourself.” “And what kind of people go there, anyway? I mean, think about it! They’re just pale, overweight kids who have nothing better to do with their lives than stare at a computer screen. When was the last time you read anything really astounding anywhere on the ‘net? All the real writers who know what they’re doing are out getting published at fourteen and landing themselves a level road to University and a career.” “You could drown in the angst that dribbles off the low-quality paper pages of those books. Let’s play something else; this is getting boring. You keep losing.” “But they—“ “I’ll put Soul Calibur on, okay?” “—yeah, okay, cool. But they get somewhere with it. Angst is what the public wants, and they’re willing to give it to them. And I’ll bet they have social lives, too, at least after their classmates find out they’re published. I mean, who doesn’t want to be able to brag about knowing some one like that? “They learned how to get successful before their thirteenth birthday, and are already making money off of it, and neither of us can even get organized enough to look at, let alone start, our homework. We fail every test we write, and still go on doing what we’re doing, because we like to tell ourselves that—why are you playing as—?” “Shut up. She’s cool.” “Whatever. We like to tell ourselves that we’re escaping a life of 9-to-5 jobs because we’re going to somehow get into the gaming industry or write our own books or win the lottery and move to Japan. We tell ourselves we can’t do anything our parents or teachers want us to, and that continuing to lose at everything we do and then finally pulling out and becoming rich and successful through some unlikely twist of fate is our way of getting back at the world.” “You’re shooting kind of low there. My goal is world domination. Besides, spite is a powerful motive. You know, you can do a combo if you press more than one button at once. Besides, spite is a powerful motive. More-so than the thirst for honest, pure-hearted success.” “You think so?” “Yeah.” “So, what has spite accomplished you thus far?” “Well, I haven’t passed a single math, French, or science assignment for two years, but can speak fluent, self-taught Japanese. And I’ve transposed the entire Zelda main theme for piano, beat Chrono Trigger three times using just my toes, and can hum all of Do As Infinity’s songs backwards.” “Really?” “No, but neither can Bill Gates, and look where he is.” “Touché.” This is the piece of writing I mentioned a few days ago. Not sure how many days, but it was a few. u.u It's up in OB Anthology, but I, being the attention whore I am, want to make sure you read it, or are at least aware of its existance!!! Therefore, if you do not leave a comment, I shall harangue you mercilessly over AIM/MSN/e-mail/the phone/whatever else until you at least tell me whether or not it is "good". ("Good" usually means "I don't care, but you need a compliment," when it comes to this kind of thing, but hey.) *** The Pillows' full discography. On my computer. Ph34r. ^_~ Oh yes, and I made a new banner: It is currently in use at OB, and I quite like it. I made the black sit there rediculously long intentionally, by the way. It's to make you pissed off at me for having nothing in my banner but...black. Then, while you're cursing me out, it tells you that, well, I'm blogging this. (*piano teacher comes, teaches me, then goes*) That's right: you're being watched!!! : O My next French project is the best thing ever. French-class-wise, at least. Even better than when I got to write a story about Francois Tremblant and his adventures in being a tour guide, during which he brutally murdered all of his tourists.^.^ I get to make une site web. I doubt that most of the people in my class even know the most basic of HTML, let alone XML or any of that good stuff. I intend to 0wnz 7h3r 45535. Heh. Life isn't bad. It's just ever so less than good. : )

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