Forgetting what we knew.

Apparently, I'm an asshole. I met a guy this year whose in my class that I assumed I'd just never met when I lived in Covina before. He knows a really good friend of mine, and that's how we met this year. Apparently, I had full on conversations with him four years ago, both in person and otherwise. What it was we talked about, I have no fucking clue. But I distinctly remember he had the Myspace name "tarzac." I assume this is a combination of his name and Tarzan.

Well today, I asked my friend for the number of our friend, Zac, to send him a funny text. Five minutes or so after I sent it, I get a reply from him. It said something along the lines of "haha," and was signed with the name "tarzac." Shocked frozen, I looked over to my friend and asked, "Zac calls himself tarzac?" He said that he does, and my eyes bulge and my mouth drops. I never knew that my new friend Zac was the tarzac I had conversed with four years ago. Apparently, I'm an asshole.

How am I going to die?

I like to ask myself hypothetical questions that will help me in no way in the course of my life. They are just fun and/or interesting to think about . Get them brain juices a-flowin'!

Today I ask; How do I think I am going to depart from this forsaken world?

In truth, I think about this a lot. I think of all of the crazy scenarios I could put myself in that could get me killed. I think of all of the freak accidents that could take place while I am taking a test at school. I think of paranormal phenomena that has yet to be proven false that could overtake this world and destroy all but a select few (normally I am not part of those few).

ANYWAY, I have derived the conclusion that I am going to die through brutal stabbing efforts, or I am going to be shot in the back of the head. Either way: Murder. Now I have no logical reason to believe this, but I am near certain that I am going to die this way. My tummy tells me so. I can vividly picture my death. I think I know what my death looks like better than my autopsy report. To make things clear, this is not how I WANT to die, it's just how I THINK I am going to die. I would never wish this fate upon myself. But my tummy is no liar. So this will probably happen.

So my friends, How are you going to die?

Trolls

Today I found myself thinking about troll dolls. Does anyone else remember these? Those creepy naked dolls with some sort of neon colored hair that stuck straight up into the air? I never liked them when I was a kid, but now they are somewhat of an idol to me. Let's see now: Number 1. Troll dolls are always naked (awesome!); Number 2. Their hairstyle is considered normal amongst the troll kind, but if a human had that hair they would be considered a freak, an outsider, a weirdo; And number 3. Trolls never seemed to be heterosexual to me, they are most definitely bisexual. All in all, troll dolls are the most accepting and loving creatures on this planet. I only wish I could have realized this as a child and embraced the troll race. Instead, I just feared the one troll doll that I owned because apparently I was a judgemental little bastard.

I could save the world if I remembered how to do it.

I went out with my mom today to do some shopping for my Christmas presents since she won't be here for Christmas. It was great. I got all the socks and vitamins I could have ever wanted! At one point I was sitting on one of those fancy-shmancy couches they put in the lounge-y area of Nordstrom bathrooms while waiting for my mom to finish peeing. I found myself thinking about something very existential and philosophical, but since then have completely forgotten what exactly that was. All I know is that I did think about something deep and incredible that could have possibly changed the lives of millions had I only remembered it. I could have made the world a better place. I could have received the Nobel peace prize over Obama. I could have...I could have...Fail.

Cereal

I was abnormally focused on my granola just now. The Adventures of Pete and Pete are on and I couldn't even concentrate on it because I was so fixated on my cereal. I stared at every spoonfull, analyzing it for a half second before eating it. I stirred it around my bowl with my spoon, watching the clusters spin around. What does all this mean. Nothing. I'm just fucking crazy. :D

1 to 76 chance to fuck myself over.

I am listening to the song The First Days Of Spring, and one of the lyric says: "I do believe that everyone has one chance to fuck up their life." That is complete and utter bullshit. I know I have been given at least seventy-six chances to fuck up my life, and most of those chances successfully did just that. So Noah and the Whale telling me that I have one chance to do it is downright confusing. Besides, having only one shot at anything isn't fair. Why should we only be given the opportunity to completely screw ourselves over and force out fates of doom only one mere time in our lives? As much as people say there are no second chances at life, it's bullshit. There are at least seventy-six to my knowledge. This band shouldn't be supporting all those assholes who bring us down. Dare I say...W-T-F? We all deserve as many chances as we can scrounge up to fuck up our lives. Don't take let us think otherwise Noah and the Whale. Don't let us...

P.S. Noah and the Whale is the fucking shit.

Inspiration

"Never hit your grandma with a shovel. It makes a bad impression on her mind." The greatest spoken words by Tiny Tim. Nothing has ever inspired me more to not hit my grandmother in the face with a hard gardening tool. I used to think about it all the time, but thanks to his genius I will never strike her over the head. Thank you for your wisdom Tiny Tim. You may have kept me out of jail...and kept my grandmother alive. I'm sure grandma thanks you too.