Sometimes, I hate who I am, the way I am. My emotions get in the way of everything that I want. Or rather, my emotions have become the things I want. Irritatingly enough, I feel as though I write best when I feel my worst. Perhaps I have a subconscious fear of feeling good?
Anyways, let's stop talking about boring, stupid things such as myself. Hmmmm. How about things I always wish existed. First on the list: thought detection technology. I've always wondered just how much people secretly hate me. Lightsabers. Perfect for cutting toast and limbs! A handbook on being normal. Proably never going to get this one, but who cares?
I love to stalk people. Or rather, creep them out. It's just one of my ways to avoid becoming popular. I roleplay, which I hope convices people that I'll be lonely for the rest of my life and live in my mothers basement. I wish that were the case. The number one thing that I hate the most is when something eccentric and awesome that I found on my own gets turned mainstream and candy-coated to hell. I hate it. Essentially, there goes one more thing that made me feel proud to be myself! Unfortunately, this end of the spectrum essentially leads to being extremely alone when it comes to enjoyment. That's the worst part about it. Avoiding what's popular ultimately causes you to abandon everything that everyone else would do. That just won't work either. Reason: I'll directly quote some people on this one to show my case in point (these are from memory, mind you.): "No one wants you here. No one likes you. GO AWAY.", "You never shut up, do you?", and the list goes on an on.
Wonderful. I've descided upon a raving blog bitching session. Just wonderful. How about I change the subject, hmm? Well I saw The Dead Weather at the Filmore. That was pretty awesome. They even played their new singles and a few covers. (Here's an example of a good song of theirs: http://vimeo.com/10816997 Not to mention, I love the video!) Definitely worth having 4 hours of ringing ears. Not to mention, I got my first Persian lesson, which was also pretty awesome. It was hilarious because the whole class was adults except for me, quietly mastering Arabic characters and their pronunciations while the rest of the group had just a swell time flailing their limited foreknowledge in the subject. For the first time, I felt prideful, boastful even. Of course, I didn't say anything until I wanted to get a break. "Everyone must practice all the letters before they can take leave. *Lifts up perfect handwriting.* Oh." Definate moment of achivement feeling afterwords.
This weekend: one party (now I am starting to feel popular, but hey, being existing at all is better than being ignored I guess huh?) Then I get to enjoy that sinking lonliness that pulls you in and drowns you until you can get back to the weekdays (a.k.a. what little of a social life you have). One problem with that: on Mondays, people don't want to talk. Oh well, I'll wait for a Wednesday or Thursday I guess. I hate Fridays, because it feels like the week is dying. I don't like that feeling. Not one bit.
Oh well, my words are dwindling from me. I suppose I shall say farewell and watch you walk off into the distance.
...FaReWeLl...
and goodbye, my cult. Until we meet again.
:}

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