Thursday, December 29, 2005

Thinking
Lately I've been looking at my life and asking myself what I've done to deserve it. So far I can't see that I've done anything to make myself worthy of a second glance and I don't think that I will anytime soon, if at all. I guess I'm just getting depressed because all my friends are happy and I'm not and I've been torturing myself over a girl (again), but it's probably just because the days are shorter and I'm not getting enough sunlight.
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Monday, December 19, 2005

Well
Okay, I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but I now realize that tthe girl that I've been on about for the past year is last most girls that I've had a crush on, she's a proximity infatuatuion. Nothing more, nothing less. Now that I know that, I can start getting over her. I think. I hope...
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Bored
Well, since the holidays have started and I'm out of school, I've been bored out of my mind. So far this week: I've slaughtered my way through Halo, Sudeki, Soul Calibur 2, Fable (twice), Turok: Evolution, Drakan, KOTOR, Jedi Academy, and all my other games. Guess I'm just too good... But, on the plus side, since I've been out of my skull with boredom, I've picked up my wieghts again and for some reason, my reflexes are much faster than they were a month ago. For instance: I accidently knocked a glass bottle off the counter and caught it before it hit the ground, not impressive alone, but the day before I had a glass in my hand and dropped and again caught it. Thses are things I've not been able to do before and now they're second nature. Wierd, huh?
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Monday, November 21, 2005

The Military
OOC: Normally I delete chain letters without a second thought, but I consider this a special case.

BIC:
The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.

He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm howizzitor.

He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.

He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark.

He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.

He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.

He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march.

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient.

He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other.

He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.

He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.

He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.

If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food.

He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.

He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.

He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all.

He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime.

He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them.

He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.

He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking.

In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.

Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy.

He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.

He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.

Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.

And now we even have woman over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.

As you go to bed tonight, remember this shot..

A short lull, a little shade and a picture of loved ones in their helmets

Prayer wheel for our military... please don't break it. Please send this on after a short prayer.

Prayer Wheel

"Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they protect us.
Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need. Amen."

Prayer :
When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer
for our ground troops in Afghanistan, sailors on ships, and airmen in the air, and for those in Iraq.

There is nothing attached....

This can be very powerful.......

Of all the gifts you could give a US Soldier, Sailor, Coastguardsman, Marine
or Airman, prayer is the very best one.
I can't break this one, sorry.

This is a ribbon for soldiers fighting in Iraq. Pass it on to everyone and pray.
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Saturday, November 12, 2005

Stickman
This is one of the stickman cartoons that I draw whenever I'm bored. Hope y'all like it.


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Friday, November 4, 2005

   A little disappointed....
I was talking to Celtic Not today after walking her to her house and realized that it's the first time since we've known each other that we've actually talked instead of just chatting. But that's beside the point. The point is that afterwards, I've got to walk back to class (she offered a ride, but I prefer walking) and it's dark and C.N. tells me not to go past the park because there are these guys that hang out there and they might give me trouble. So I go past the park anyways (don't tell Not) and everyone stays away from me and nobody wants to play. And I'm a little disappointed because I've been aching for a good fight lately. It seems I'm more intimidating than I think because this group of three girls spots me and they actually cross the street when they see me.
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Tuesday, November 1, 2005

A quick comment before class starts
I'm sitting here in Calculus and it occurs to me that what people think is the Bible and the word of God, isn't. It is in fact an Englishman's translation of the original Bible and, as we all know, many things get lost in translation. Perheps some of the meaning of the original was lost, or even, intentionally left out but the men who translated it. By the way don't be offensive when you comment if what I say makes you mad.
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Saturday, October 29, 2005

More about me
I'm not violent like most people think, I'm more careless. I have a tendancy to forget that most people don'ts feel pain the same way I do. The thing is that when I was younger, I took a fastball to the head in Little League and it completely screwed up the sensory center in my brain. Basically, my sense of sight and touch were dramatically hieghtened while other senses (like sensitivity to sound, smell taste, and temperature) were dramatically lessened (this is also the reason I have a tendancy to be slow and why my startle reflex doesn't work very well). Additionaly, my pain receptors can't properly communicate with my brain. The upshot of this is that I feel pain differently than everyone else. For example, when I'm burned, instead of feeling fire and heat, I feel pressure and tearing on my skin. And because my nerves can't properly communicate with my brain, the signals they send can't be interpreted as easily as they should be. But because it happened later in life, I understand the concept of pain and still recoil at things my body manages to interpret as painful. So, pain for me isn't painful, but is instead an interesting thing to be analyzed and experienced fully. And because I have a nasty tendancy to forget that other people don't work the way I do, I accidently hurt them. Especially guys, who I'm not anywhere near as careful with as I am with girls. Case in point: When I was in class with Boris, we were studing the heart and were playing with stethescopes. While Boris was wearing it, I smacked the sound part and it hurt his ears, he then did the same to me and I felt nothing, didn't even blink. So, in summation, I'm not mean, (at least, not on purpose) I just can't understand that I can hurt other people because I don't consider myself very strong and also because other people can't easily hurt me.
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Tuesday, October 25, 2005

The Perfect Girl
Here's a list of the traits that my perfect girl has (of course, this list is meaningless because the girl I fall in love with will be perfect even if she's the exact opposite of the list):

smart
funny
pretty
tough
kind
considerate
caring
loves animals
can cook (doesn't neccessarily have to cook though)
enjoys being pampered
wants to get married
wants children
doesn't feel obligated to give a gift if she gets one
low-maintanence
doesn't mind if I work alot (b/c I plan on being a doctor)
can be lady-like while winning a belching contest

Unfortunately, I stand a better chance of being eaten by a shark after being struck by lightning on the way to colloect my lottery winnings than I do of finding my perfect girl (then again, like I said before, the list is pretty meaningless because the girl I fall in love with will be perfect because she's the girl I love, not because she fit these specifics)
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Monday, October 24, 2005

   Erg....
I must be a masochist. Ever since I found that AIM conversation that I saved (the one with my ex-girlfriend who also happens to be my best friend who I still have feelings for) I've just kept reading it and rereading it over and over again and sometimes it makes me smile but mostly it just hurts like Hell because we were all lovey-dovey and naive and (at least on my part) hoped that we would be together for a long time. Damn it!! Why the Hell can't I keep a relationship? Am I just not attractive enough? What the hell is this "You're smart, nice, funny, and good-looking, but you're just not attractive" shit? It's just too wierd. And the worst part is that I love her as a friend and that part of me is happy that she's happy, but the other half of me just hurts because she's with another guy who's the scum of the earth and she can't see it. Damn it all to Hell.
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