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Current Music:bad day - REM
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Time:11:17 pm
Current Mood:bouncybouncy

livejournal turning evil - will self-destruct in five...four...three...two...system failure, I repeat, SYSTEM FAILURE, self-destruction anulled

OH NOES

woe is me

in short: why the hell do the entries now automatically go to rich text format? I like writing my own HTML code, thank you very much, it gives me practise...even if it is only little pointless things like <i> and </i>.

in other news, I am now officially sick of Caitlin. But she's staying here for another...um...four, five months. DAMMIT. And it doesn't help that she doesn't have any money, so there's no use to even pretend to not be seriously annoyed by every other thing she says

sisters are different people...I'm not naive enough to write, "you know, for two kids who grew up with the same parents, we're really different." Oh noes, oh noes oh noes oh noes. Besides, we didn't grow up much the same, either.

something she likes to point out a lot...Caitlin spends a lot of time thinking about herself...o.O

and I don't?

anyway. ooh, I love this song. It reminds me of Snape. I don't know why, though. Actually, I do, but I'm not going to explain. Bad Day by Bon Jovi R.E.M.

a public service announcement followed me home the other day
I paid it nevermind. Go away
shit's so thick you could stir it with a stick - free Teflon white-washed presidency
we're sick of being jerked around
wear that on your sleeve

broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, Lord
count your blessings
we're sick of being jerked around
we all fall down

have you ever seen the televised St. Vitus subcommittee prize
investigation dance? Those ants-in-pants glances
well, look behind the eyes
it's a hallowed, hollow anesthesized
"save my own ass, screw you guys"
smoke and mirror lock down

broadcast a joyful noise unto the times, Lord
count your blessings
the papers wouldn't lie!
I sigh. not one more

it's been a bad day
please don't take a picture
it's been a bad day
please

we're dug in deep, the price is steep
the auctioneer is such a creep
the lights went out, the oil ran dry
we blamed it on the other guy
sure, all men are created equal
here's the church, here's the steeple
please stay tuned - we cut to sequal
ashes, ashes, we all fall down

broadcast a joyful noise unto the times, Lord
count your blessings
we're sick of being jerked around
we all fall down

anyway...am talking to Tristan. So. CAIO.

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Current Music:time after time - downtown singapore
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Subject:time after time
Time:02:03 pm
Current Mood:anxiousanxious

First, my dear Jezabel, I am not depressed. Just anxious. Big difference.

Second. I nearly broke my toe. Seriously, there was blood and everything (okay, so not very much, but there was still blood). It hurts. But you know what? I'm happy about that. I keep thinking, "Well, that's the closest to a battle wound I'm ever going to get, since I'm such a wuss in fencing." And it's like. Fencing has made me weird. o.O Maybe I'm a masochist. Maybe I'm just trying to make my life more exciting than it really is.

Third. I lost big notes for Biology. Tomorrow's my deadline. Life, meet drain. Drain, meet life. And eat it, please. Because if you don't, my mother will.

Fourth. Hmm. Not sure there is a fourth.

Fifth. Wait, there was a fourth, but since I didn't think there was, I'll make a fifth. Tristan, yeah. I gotta email him you with stuff. Cause I have a bit to say. So. Yeah. But first. Must. Finish. what I can. Then I don't think I'm going to fencing, and I'm definitely not going to archery.

-_- Yeah. That's life. Deal with it.

Caio.

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Current Music:there's noise but I can't really hear it
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Subject:*groan*
Time:01:04 am
Current Mood:exhaustedexhausted
I think I give up.

I just spent about twenty minutes staring incoherently at the screen. Got a 36/50 on a Geofphy xam. I fail. Stayed up till five yesterday, woke up at noon only to fail to save a baby bird's life. Officially hate cats right now. Don't think I'm going to fencing or archery on Monday. Mother's Day - don't have any clue what I need to get or do for mom. Shit.

Wanted to get on AIM. Could not let talking to people distract me. Many apologies. I'm in too much a self-loathing mood right now to have been any fun to talk to anyway, I would have just complained and whined and bitched. But looky, I am so totally past that now. Can't you tell?

With a pain that thrives inside my neck
And lately I say what the heck?
Gotta pry myself up off the deck
'Cause there ain't no cure for suicide

I really can't remember when
It didn't flow right from the pen
When it don't I'll carpenter again
'Cause there ain't no cure for suicide

How's that for a mood-lifter? No. Seriously. I think Oysterhead might rock my socks off. But I'm too dead to know for sure. I can't tell whether or not I'm even wearing socks (okay, I am, but still...that's besides the point, if there was one).

Not where I need to be by midnight on Sunday, May 14, 2006. Not even close. But.

I don't give a flying fuck.

Edit: Geofphy xam? o.O *dies* And amazingly, I think that might be the only typo.
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Current Music:Radio
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Subject:holy shit, that hurt
Time:03:05 am
Current Mood:shockedstunned
Ow. Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow. Who knew that something I read for English could be so hiddeously painful and heartbreaking? "A Man Called Horse" by Dorothy M. Johnson. I think it may be a cut version, because I've been searching for it on google, to see if I can find a link (you can usually find entire short stories on the web), but I keep on getting 'the book by Dorothy M. Johnson...' 'Filmography blah blah blah' (I want to see it now!) and shit. But. Did I say ow? *wibbles*


Now that, my friends, is the definition of the human spirit.

Allow me to go sob my heart out now. ^_^
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Current Music:broken - seether (...again)
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Subject:o.O O.o o.O O.o
Time:10:41 pm
Current Mood:aggravatedaggravated
What kind of question is this?

Multiple Choice

If DEFG is a square, find m(angle sign)DEG

-30
-45
-60
-90

...o.O I swear. Sometimes I think Geometry is out to explode my braincells and make me feel like the stupidest person in the world.

Other times, I want to smack the person who makes these exams for thinking me so absolutely simple. Well, at least that's one question I got right, without a doubt.

And considering I got 31/47 questions correct on that exam, I probably needed that. X_X SHIT. I fail. Almost. (It's a D. For Dunderhead, methinks. *sends Snape reproachful glare*)

And looking back, NONE of my mistakes were comprehension questions, except one. All my mistakes were in the equations, not because I didn't understand the concept, but because I forgot something or I clicked the wrong thing on my calculator or something. WTF? I hate myself.

...Jubilee from FictionAlley.org FINALLY updated Forgivable Expectations! When I checked my email and saw that, I was all like, wtfzomfgSQUEE! 'Cause it takes years (literally) for Jubilee to update her stuff sometimes. But it's amazing and totally worth it, whether or not you're a Pansy fan. Which I am. But only because of Jubilee. And, what's worse (...considering this isn't a bad thing to being with, but whatever) is that she ended the damn chapter on a cliff hanger. What's going to happen now that they've been caught? Oh the suspenuse 0.0 it's mind-boogling!

It's gotten to the point where sometimes I question whether or not 'boggling' is really the correct form of that word. Damn Kate! Damn Krista! Damn badfic! But most of all, Damn sporkers!

Am. Dragging. Dead. Weight.

Have until. The SIXTEENTH. To be done. Am scared. Should probably be terrified. Can't waste the time it takes. Must work. *workworkwork*

Biscuit, oh my dear Biscuit! One of his knees gave out or something, and he's been limping around like a three-legged creature. He needs a surgery, the vet says, but we can't afford it. Either that or we need to amputate his leg, again something we can't afford. O.O And until we can afford something for him, he'll be in excruciating pain. Most dogs would be screaming, the vet said, but Biscuit's the kind of dog who takes everything into stride. He just limps around and is his old, cheerful self. It's so sad. *sob* Gah, what kind of world do we live in where we must pay for help? o.O See, that question isn't even logical anymore! Not in this one and not in the next.

I'm trying to find a picture of Biscuit. It might take awhile...but I'm trying.

OMG, I think I found one. That was easier than I thought it would be.

>.<



How do I have THAT but not a picture of my dear Biscuit? Must search harder!

Damn it. I can't find any. *sob* Shows how much I care for my own damn dog, whose been wobbling bravely about like the three-legged soldier he is? Oh, woe is me Biscuit! 

And speaking of that image. OMG. I miss Brooke. Scarlet. Whatever. I miss her. *sob* I should start using 'ja' and all the German accent-y words again, just in her honor. Le sigh.

My sister is fucking fucked up. I want to hit her over the head with my laptop. Is that normal? Eh, well, I should rephrase that. 'Cause it is normal. It just isn't. Well, it's probably not the best news you ever heard.
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Current Music:Break Away, Kelly Clarkson
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Subject:Passion
Time:04:56 pm
Current Mood:accomplishedaccomplished
I could get on AIM. But I only have a few minutes before somebody calls me down. I'm hoping we do something today. Aside from my violin lesson.

Speaking of which (and the subject for this entry), that went extraordinarily well, considering I haven't practised in five months. No, seriously. And "extraordinarily well, considering" doesn't even cover it in full. If it weren't for the fact that I'd forgotten all the page numbers and what it was I was working on, I don't think Mrs. Kopmar would have believed me when I said I haven't been practising.

I am master of vibrato, the brush strokes are to die for, and I am loud! Hear me roar, you country obsessed with marching band and rock 'n' roll! Classical shall dominate the world!

...not that I ever want to play classical. Oh no. Bluegrass, watch out. There's a new fiddler in town.

Ego, meet me. Me, meet ego. Not that we weren't already well acquainted anyway, but whatever.

Anyway, Caitlin apparently underestimates me. When we were driving home from Mrs. Kopmar's, we started talking about junk. She thinks she gets fencing. But you know what she said? "It's a sport where you're aiming to kill each other, only you've added padding to make it so you don't really die. It seems so animalistic and just isn't my cup of tea." And then when she asked me why I did it, I said, "Why? Why do you want to play the piano? Why do I like to write? Why does the ballerina love dance?"

And she just said, "Because you want to be admired or you want to escape from the world."

O_o

First off: I would love to be admired. It would make me incredibally happy. However, I do not write, fence, or play the violin because of it.

And second, I'm not so much of a "poor, misunderstood teenager" that I need an escape from the world. I mean, yes, sometimes it's nice to pretend like nothing else exists, but that's why I read. I fence because it requires talent, a talent that I've found I have. It's a beautiful sport, and is more than just 'fight or die but since you're padded you don't really die.' It's a nice way to vent your frustration, but that's still not the reason I do it.

I fence, and write and play the violin, to better understand the world. That's what I want, I think, and when I write, I can explore the people. When I fence, I can almost explore the past, trying to figure out why people would engage in this sport. The violin is an insight into music, the only true depth in the human soul, and that's all about understanding. Not about being admired or escaping from the real world or venting my frustration, although all three factors play a part.

And when I told her she didn't 'get' fencing, the same way I don't 'get' football and the same way somebody else might not, say, 'get' ballet, even if they know the rules and see the amount of effort it must take to achieve it and how it might be entertaining. Sometimes I wonder if Caitlin has any real passion. For awhile I thought it was singing, dancing, preforming, but she just ditched that like yesterday's news paper. How could somebody do that? How could somebody work for four years at something and then just say, "Eh, whatever." I mean, she was such a passionate singer and has such a wonderful stage presence. I've always thought that the stage called to her the same way the empty page calls to me. But apparently not.

Are all people really that lost?

Ugh. This world frustrates me. I'm going downstairs now, probably outside even though the weather is rather dreary.

Adios, amigos!
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Current Music:Miss Independant - Either Kelly Clarkson or Pink..
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Subject:To throttle, perchance, to kill
Time:01:08 am
Current Mood:crushedcrushed
Fiddler***: Hey Wendy. Are you talking to me yet?
Me: *not responding* *goes invisible*
Fiddler***: Obviously not.
Fiddler*** has signed off

Way to kill my happiness. Fucker.

Okay. So I can't let that get to me right now. What do I need? Portkey...or...something. Taha. Alicia IM'd me and that totally made my day. (Alicia's my aunt, btw, she lives in Texas.)



I love Alicia. She's one of my favorite people in the world. I still remember being her perfect niece... she has her issues, but whatever. I don't get to see her enough. Since she lives in Texas and all. *sad*

Anyway. Talking to Tristan on AIM. Trying to figure out whether I should write something, go to sleep, or do some school work. The most intelligent option would be to do school work. Although reading the next chapter in Atlas Shrugged doesn't sound so bad now that I think about it. O! the options! O! the misery. Anyway, I think I'll stay online 'cause I want to talk to Tristan. So, school work it is. Or writing. Gah, I'm so lazy.

And, of course, insert self-loathing rant here. But I'd prefer to hold that all inside for awhile, lest I get slapped. HAHA. I'm kidding. Seriously. o.O Or not.

Anyway. You know, Atlas Shrugged hasn't brought up religion ONCE. I don't know whether that scares me or makes me happy.

My dad gave me a dollar bill
'Cause I'm his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
'Cause two is more than one!

And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes-I guess he don't know
That three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just 'cause he can't see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes
And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!

And then I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head-
Too proud of me to speak!

-Smart by Shel Silverstein

Why does that remind me of America? Hell, why does everything Shel Silverstein remind me of America, human beings, and their unlimited supply of stupidity, vengeance, greed, and narcissism? Pfft.

Alright then. Caio.

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Current Location:Time of Your Life - Billy Joel
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Subject:Something unpredictable that in the end is right...I hope you have the time of your life
Time:05:46 pm
Current Mood:frustratedself-loathing
Why I love Ayn Rand (Or: excerpts from Atlas Shrugged that made me laugh my ass off, though it might be hard to understand why out of context)Collapse )

I had a panic attack during fencing today. You know, I have like, seven days to get three courses completely finished or my life is officially over. Mother is going to KILL me if I don't have it finished. So I'm not going to archery because I plan to spend the entire night doing school work.

Starting. Now.

Only I'm procrastinating, can't you tell? God, I am such a horrible person. Maybe I could read a chapter in...NO. I will get three lessons done tonight and my reward, IF I get them done, will be reading a few chapters of Atlas Shrugged and/or getting on AIM to talk to people and checking my email and breaking out the bottle of Mountain Dew I bought at fencing. Who said I bought a Mountain Dew? I didn't! *is totally innocent*
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Current Music:Retro Stars - Real World, Matchbox 20
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Subject:Northmont is Love. Punks are Not.
Time:10:09 pm
Current Mood:cynicalcynical
First, on a completely unrelated note, the rough draft to a really crappy poem I wrote today.Collapse )

You know it's going to be a weird but potentially pleasant day when you wake up about three hours before you normally wake up on a Saturday morning to be picked up by your best friend to go to a fencing tournament you are sadly not competing in, which takes place in a city more than an hour away from where you live.

Maybe by the end of the day when you're standing outside of a large church, and you're not even Christian or very religious at all, comforting a girl you hardly know because her best guy friend is being carried away in an ambulence and a hundred other kids your age are gabbing away about the fight that just broke out and how horrible it is that something like this should happen at a CHARITY event, you know that your weird but potentially pleasant day has turned into a weird, just plain weird day that you aren't sure whether to call pleasant, eye-opening, or The Day A Hundred, Give Or Take, Northmont Teenagers Became A Mosh Pit And Beat Up A Kid To The Pounding, Talented Christian Hard Rock Band Which Has One Of Your Best Friend's Best Friends As A Vocalist But Hey, Look On The Bright Side, At Least You Helped Raise Over Four Hundred Dollars For Relay For Life, Working As Staff Even Though You Weren't A Part Of The Original Staff.

And when you overhear the following conversation, you must finally realize that your weird, just plain weird day has truly become a moment from a movie. A rather unusual movie about the struggles of charity fundraisers and cancer patients who will probably never hear of how an innocent kid got beat up at their expense. A movie you probably wouldn't have paid half a penny to see two days ago.

"It was the fucking kid in fucking red shorts!
He fucking did this to me!
I'm going to fucking kill him!"
"Not until you're fucking healed!"


Especially when you consider the fact that your best friend, who happens to be the one to yell, "Not until you're fucking healed!" is a highly conservative Christian who rarely curses and rarely loses control and rarely appears to be anything else but the perfect saint when around adults who aren't her mother.

Maybe then you think about the fact that there was only ONE adult supervising the entire situation before the police and ambulence trucks show up, and when there are a hundred something high school freshman, sophomores, and juniors gathered some place, ANY place, despite the fact that it's a church, dancing to hard rock, despite the fact that it's CHRISTIAN hard rock, that might not be the very best idea. No matter that it's a concert for charity and people dying of concert will benefit from what is sowed and reaped. Maybe then you come to your senses and wonder why the hell you're planning on going back to the high school next year.

What a way to end your freshman year of high school. Speaking of which, I probably need to get back to school work. Almost done.

I love this song. Real World by Matchbox 20.Collapse )

I spent today hanging out with Caitlin (she's finally home for the summer). Fencing and archery tomorrow, can't wait. Who wants to bet that the rumors have spread to the fencing team? Krista and I promised we wouldn't say ANYTHING to anyone, except maybe Kate, until we heard a word from them. "Yes, we were there. Yes, we were standing TWO FEET AWAY when ****** got beaten up by a bunch of jackass new-comers. No, nobody was seriously injured. And aren't you forgetting? We raised more than four hundred dollars for Relay For Life, most of which will go to finding a cure for cancer. AND we had super fun, before the fight, and Krista is apparently a MASTER at making funnel cakes. And Krista only scored THREE POINTS out of all seven bouts she fenced at the fencing tournament, let's poke her!"

Caio.
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Current Music:S.O.S. (Rescue Me) - Rihanna
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Subject:S-O-S please someone help me
Time:11:58 pm
Current Mood:frustratedflabbergasted
Before I post: "Sarchasm: The difference between the writer with sarcastic wit and the reader who just doesn't get it."

So today started out quite boring. My mom and Macy have been sick this week (I really hope I don't catch whatever they've got), so I expected to be doing a lot of baby-sitting and such. Which I did, for awhile, but then I came upstairs and did school work for about four hours (and lost my English Literature book, which scares me because I need that book) and browsed around. After that I went on a bike-ride.

Then around, oh, 6:30 my parents started talking about going out somewhere. Apparently Cindy came over today (O.O how the hell did I miss that? I must have been doing school work) and mentioned something about Dominic's that made Macy want to go out (more on Dominic's later). So we hung around outside for a few hours, talking about going out and moving a whole bunch of Caitlin's junk inside (she's returning for the summer this weekend, and apparently Macy is the one doing the moving out for her...o_O) and then finally Macy said, "Alright, time to go."

So first we went to Sears, wandered around for awhile, and then we went to Dominic's. Now, Dominic's is this really nice Italian restaurant that sits at the edge of the Dayton Slums (as I like to call it). While we were driving there we saw this kid, he couldn't have been older than nine or ten, though Macy said he looked eight, and he was smoking! A ciggarette (no, the sarchasm says, he was smoking a teddy bear). So that was the first thread, I believe, in the mass of tangled strings that would lead to the raggedy tapestry of conversation we wove later on. And that was either the best metaphor I've ever made up or the crappiest, I haven't decided yet.

So we went to Dominic's, and we were all slightly worried because the boy is two, and you know how two year old's are. Especially two year old boys. (What am I implying? Nothing, you're just inferring. Shut up.) But he was really good and didn't throw much around (although I did get a hunk of bread chucked at my face. My nose, it shall never recover. And my mom got something thrown at her as well...) and he absolutely adored the cheese sticks. Then again, who doesn't? Dominic's cheese sticks are like high quality La Rosa's cheese sticks. GOOD and FATTENING. Anyway, there was only a slight mishap with Macy and the boy distracting the waitress, the boy with his cuteness and Macy with his philosophical ramblings (more on those later, too maybe, if I don't forget, which I likely will), and she accidentally dropped a bunch of speghetti sauce on her really expensive-looking black loafers (which I am in love with and want desperately, but that's not important unless somebody would be gracious enough to buy me a pair). Good god am I really this self-centered?

So, on Thursday my mom came home and said, "Wendy, I googled your name and found a poem that you wrote awhile ago." And I'm like. O.O What is everybody's obsession with googling me lately? (Okay, to be fair, Tristan yahoo'd me. O.o That sounds odd.) And you know what poem it was? IT WAS THE SAME POEM I REPOSTED HERE EARLIER ENTITLED 'The Blink Means Yes.' So that means that either A) she found the link to my journal and is reading this post (o.o oh dear god, help me) or B) this world is REALLY incredibly puny and she just happened to find the same ff.net account that Tristan found when he googled (I'm not going to say yahoo'd...) me. On the same day.

What. TheFuck.

Anyway, I'm opting for option A, as much as it disturbs me. Then again, I thought that she already had the link to my journal and was just being quiet about it. In fact, now that I think about it, I think she didn't really google me. I think she just read that post and thought, "Oooh, must tell her...must not let her know I read her entries," or something like that. Again, I am self-centered. o.O I swear it's just because I'm fifteen and later on in life all I'll care about is other people. But for now I get to be all about me! X_X But. I already know. Moot point, no? But I digress. I had a point. Anyway, I asked her about that, and asking her about that lead to a discussion about the world (...) and general stupidity in America. Although it probably had more to do with questioning Macy about his college life and why he wasn't in college until he was 22. Er...something like that. I'm not going to write everything that was said because a lot of it is rather frightening to think about, and I was almost crying by the time we got inside. I mean, I've known a lot of this shit. I know that people in China are being paid lousy money for making our shirts. I know that there are girls all over the world being raped and beaten and starved day in and day out, and I am generally VERY happy to live in America for the very reason that I am NOT. I am well-off. I am a spoiled, pampered little brat.

But, it's just, I had hope that the people in America were slowly but surely becoming smarter. I mean, sure we're killing off industry, but we're supposed to be in the Information Age (*waves goodbye to the Iron Age*). But...O.O I don't know. I do know that I do NOT understand, as much as I love learning about people and studying psychology, why a person could be averse to learning. I mean, human beings are not, or should I say, SHOULD NOT be lazy by nature. We have bodies built and structured for work, and we have brains and have only made it this far in the universe because we have the intelligence and capability to put two and two together. If we have it, we should naturally use it. It should be an instinct. And it is, when you think about it. I mean, ask any five-year-old in the world whether or not s/he wants to learn how to read, and you know what? 99.9999999999999% of the time the child will say YES. .00000000000001% of the time, the child will ask what the hell reading is and when you explain, they will say yes. I mean, take this for example.

In sixth grade our teacher got out a box of junk some of the kids in my class had made in Kindergarden (I had moved too much by then to have any of it, sadly). She pulled out the stuff belonging to Eric Smith (name obviously changed). Now Eric, even then, was famed for how much he HATED school. He skipped days, and it's gotten even worse now in high school. He is totally averse to learning and just, he doesn't like it. It restricts him. Anyway, our teacher got out the material, and EVERYTHING Eric had written or done in Kindergarden had SOMETHING to do with how much he loved learning and how much he loved reading.

It is within human nature to want to learn. The desire to become more intelligent and understanding is there, and, as Denis Leary once said (I think it was Denis Leary), "Prejudice isn't born, folks, it's taught. I have a two year old son. You know what he hates? Naps. End of list." So it's the world, however it has progressed over the past few centuries, that makes people lose their interest in learning. That makes them smart. Now I know you're first defense might be, "But some people have learning disorders and it's HARD for them." Or you could quote Bush and say, "It's hard work."

Oh yeah? Well, even if it's hard, it's still something you want. Everything can't be easy, and that is something that, yes, we should be learning. If you raised a child in a world where all of his questions were answered and people taught him new things every day, eventually he might get tired of it being hard, but by that point in time hopefully he's also been taught that you have to face hard work to get what you want in life. If EVERYBODY raised their children like that, our problems would slowly but surely become void. Or at least, some of them. If we stayed away from things like organized religion, or at least, we didn't pressure prejudice onto our kids like hound dogs, we would be a better world. If we could ALL keep that desire to learn and know and work from an early age, and if we could just avoid the prejudice that's been ingrained into our way of life since...the time of cavemen, I'm assuming. Well.

But it's not so easy. I know that. I'm not saying it's possible, just that it's ideal. There are 6+ billion people in the world. O_O

But I've yet to understand why people just flat-out don't want to learn. I mean, I'm a lazy person by nature. Anybody who knows me knows that. If I can get out of something hard, I do. But I still don't avoid learning like the plague. Thinking is second-nature. Thinking is calming and relaxing. Sometimes. Questioning the universe while lying in bed isn't hard work, people! It's what you should be doing naturally! Yes, human beings are generally lazy. But since when does laziness have anything to do with the ability to think, the ability to form structured thoughts and wonder at the vastness of the universe? IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE.

Anyway, after this conversation I had with my parents they handed me a book called "Atlas Shrugged" by Ayn Rand. I've heard a lot about it over the years, but my parents have always said, "Eh, you don't want to read it yet," (why am I reminded of Krista and her famed "I don't want to get hit by a car yet"? It must be a sign) and I've just shrugged it off. It didn't sound like a very interesting book when I first heard of it. But now I think it's really fascinating. I've only read the first few pages, but the language, while it seems like it might eventually get long-winded, is really pretty. And I just. I don't know.

I want to change the world someday, you know? Or not even change it. I just want to make a difference, leave an impression so that people know I was here. I want to help this stupidity go away, and you know in the past I've always said, "I don't want to be a teacher." But now...now I think I do want to be a teacher. It seems like the only way, apart from writing and selling books, to help those few intelligent people in the world grasp that intelligence is not HARD WORK, it's something we were born with and something we need to take advantage of, but not abuse. We shouldn't reap the plants sowed by our forefathers. They should. And we should reap what WE sow. I mean, how complex is that? It's not! It's simple. It's not that hard of a concept to grasp and it's probably something I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to show others.

I don't think I'll be able to make a difference. Everything is so hopeless and the human race as a whole is just stupid. I mean, I'm super fortunate to live in America, and I love this country to death. But it's...it's going down. It's fucked up and it's got problem and there are WAY too many people who turn a blind eye to the problems that are sitting RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF OUR FACES. And I want to do something. I want to change it. Hell, I just want to see it changed. Why can't SOMEBODY stand up? Why can't I? Of all of my friends, I think only two would understand this post in its completeness. Or at least, if I managed to talk to them and form it out in a more cohesive manner. It just isn't fair! I know nothing in life is fair and it's no worth complaining about it. But HOW can people be so stupid? Why can't they see what's right in front of their faces? It's staring at them! You know the common phrase, "Blah blah wouldn't get blah blah if it danced naked in front of him/her."? Well, that's exactly what's happening. THE TRUTH IS DANCING NAKED RIGHT IN FRONT OF US.

No. It's not JUST dancing naked. It's singing and chanting annoyingly high-pitched, out-of-tune notes while waving yellow ducks around that are quacking furiously and are an unnatural shade of fucshia. It's also driving a bunch of fingernails down a black board. It's screaching in ours ears and howling at us with loud wailing monkey calls. And not only is it doing that, but it's dancing on hot coals and occassionally bending down to chuck those coals in our eyes. And then its also yoddling and herding sheep and chucking babies into fires and raping young, innocent women in third world countries and beating them and whipping boys for not mining enough coal in Africa, and it's paying young kids in China two bucks a day to make shirts for the insanely lucky bitches and bastards in America and it's murdering people left and right and its breaking glass on our heads and, and, and WHAT ELSE DOES IT HAVE TO DO TO MAKE US SEE?

...

I'm off to read Atlas Shrugged. Actually I should probably just go to bed, since I have to wake up so early tomorrow morning (SEVEN) in order to go to a fencing competition with Krista. But goddamn people. Wtf?

Gah. This world is impossible.

Some quotes I found.Collapse )
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