Thursday, April 27

Aisle 27


Aisle 27: The Best Seller/Stationary aisle


Yep at work again. Let us call this entry the scribblings at the library.

I took a good long look at this blog a day or two ago and I am still trying to figure out the format of it. This should be something I know right off the bat. Just about every blog I've read has a central theme, be it about cats, comic, and music, about the woes of everyday life, about the political ideologies I'd like to push upon you, a chronicle of wonderous and funny stories from my life. Does this have a theme?

Technically it's the idiotic ramblings of a diseased mind. I put very little thought into what goes down on this blog (which should be very apparent). I regret that the second post I wrote for this is a emo post about an ex going to Disney Land. Why did I care? Well maybe it is fitting. I think I've gone over the story of that ex and I on every single blog (possibly not the one where I wrote horrible poetry on purpose). Plus people say you should start with a bang and I hardly ever listen to these people, hence the begining with a dud.

I will say I enjoy writing on this blog far more tha all the others, possibly because I can't tell if anyone is reading this. Other blogs I know exactly who is reading my thoughts so I know right off the bat I can't write about them. Here I can say anything. Like I have no feelings for my ex, Jill, and am slightly happy she is finally moving on with her life and moving to North Carolina. Nice girl but was I such a good boyfriend that she still clings to the past? Another thing I can say is that I really find many of my friends from college to be just as annoying and two faced as the ones from high school. Now before you jump and say, hey wait a sec I'm a friend from college, hold your horses I problibly like you. I mean you are showing an interest in my life. Many of my friends were like, hey we are so going to miss you when you graduate, and I was like, but I'll be in the town down the street, why would you miss me? I'll still be here, hell I'm still working on campus, you can come visit me at work. And without skipping a beat, "Yeah we sure are going to miss you Carl, life won't be the same." It's like talking to a dry sponge, looks interesting but really makes no sense.

So yes I try not to be a whiney jek on this blog, doesn't always work out too well (case in point). I'm not a super bright guy. I'm no great thinker. I'm not a comic genius. I'm a bit of a dork and I'm incredibly awkward and shy (this both hleps and hinders me). So why am I writing this? Is it simply a way for me to expell my thoughts into a quasi-public forum? Is this just like writing on a bathroom stall? I don't think so, as for the most part I don't go on about my deep inner turmoil. Yeah I say I'm stressed and all that but who the hell isn't stressed? I'd like to think of this blog as well just a random collection of thoughts that fill my head. Things I would normally strike up in conversation, only these thoughts pop up when no one is around.

In other words, this blog means fuck all. It's not something to be over analized. It is just an extention of my personality, slightly filtered but less so than when I'm out with certain groups. No one is really themselves all the time, but they tend to shape their persona to match the image those around them hold to be who you are. It's like what Ben Stein was saying in the Mask (oh Christ what am I doing quoting this...) we all wear different masks. Ok so I'm pretty sure that Goffman said it better in one of his books on society but regardless, we all wear multiple masks when we are out in society. To some I'm the mature, level headed responsible guy, while others see me as the bumbling idiot that gushes about a girl liking him, or possibly liking him... it is... a good feeling, I'll leave it at that. No mater the outcome I feel good about that.

What was I babbling on about? Oh right this blog. Read it, don't read it. Comment, don't comment. Hell comment about something that has nothing what-so-ever to do with the current topic at hand. If you get entertaind by what I write then yay! If not... so it goes. Am I still going to write on here? Yeah. Will there be more of these introspections? God I hope not. Will this get me fame or fortune? I think that's a no, and I honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

Yours with jelly beans and gizzled prospectors and gypsies,

Cj

Aisle 9

Aisle 9: Poptarts and Apple Sauce

So like I said on my myspace blog (which is www.myspace.com/hairballofdoom ifin you want to check that out), I am inebriated and am going to explain the randomocity of my life.

You see my life seems to be largely influenced by happenstance. All of my apartments h ave sort of landed in my lap out of no where. I ended up applying to Southern because I wanted to initially follow a girl there, that didn't work out at all, as she didn't transfer. But I met many a good person and because of my choice I am now going to New York.

So here's to randomness! May it always play an important part of my life, and may happieness bloom from it.

I was going to go on about certain people I've randomly met that have bettered my life, or situations that I am currently in and how they were born from randomness, but meh I feel not up to that. So enjoy the fact that I'm random.


The end.

Tuesday, April 18

Aisle 14

Aisle 14: Seasonal Aisle.

I do declaire it is a mighty bit stiffling in this here book depository. I do think I've got me a case of tha vapores. Hepiscoti, could you freshen up my mint julip? That's a good man. Oh and Hepiscoti retrieve for me my walkin' cane, them honary chil'n are gettin' a mighty bit too close to the porch for my comfort, I may have to give them a poke.

And this is just a glimpse of me in the future! Actually no. No it's not. My future will be less refined and gentelmanly. It will be more codgedy old man. Still on the porch with a cane ready for a good poke, but with ice tea (with some sort of hootch added to it) and sadly no Hepiscoti.

Oh I'd love to be the kooky old grandpa making puppets for my grand kids, but deep inside I know my true calling is to be a bitter, resentful old man, with a cane used for poking. I figure I'll be a nice guy for the majority of my life but once I retire (from wherever the hell I end up) I'm turning codgy! It'll be my little reward to me for being so nice when I was younger and getting the shaft over and over again. Being nice? Not all it's cracked up to be. But it's not like I'm going to stop being nice... that would be mean and being mean is the exact oposite of being nice.

Though I am jaded and bitter. I've got that going for me. If I harness the power of my sullenocity I might just be able to work up a pretty decent comedy routine, but then I'd have to hate more things with more passion. I'd also would have to stop with the random, "Oh my god this is so neat-o!" statements. Statements like, "Oh my god! I was out walking the streets and this prostitute came up to me and asked if I wanted some company and then we ended up talking for like twenty minutes! It was so neat and I didn't even get an STD!" Yeah being enthusiastic about having a chat with a pro (and not being charged for her time) wouldn't work out all too much if I was going for surly bastard (who is funny). My dreams of being a stand up are crushed!

Oh and to set the record straight the conversation lasted less then twenty minutes, but regardless it was a nice conversation. She said I looked like I had all the world's problems on my back, which I actually did at the time, I was doing Atlas a favor. Basically the conversation went exactly the same way as the conversation I had last Summer with a homeless man. He told me to stop looking at the ground when I walked. I should face life with my chin up and if I fell, well so be it, just get up dust yourself off and keep on going, cause that's life, falling down alot. If you spend all your time watching your step and trying NOT to fall down then you miss out on the scenery that is life. Interesting that some of the best advice I get is from total strangers. Oh and the prostitute incident happened back in the fall of 2002. I went for a long walk after a shitty rehearsal or show, can't remember which. In anycase, all my friends went out for drinks I was pissed at them for being asses and I walked the long walk to Mamouns to get some good food. That might have been about the time I was told by a girl I liked that in her eyes I had no genitalia. Needless to say nothing happened between the two of us.

So it's nice out! I walked in to work tonight and will decline a ride from my boss to walk home. I will walk through the ghettos, the areas people have reported muggins, in other words I'm just walking around non-Yale New Haven. I've always gotten alot of shit from my friends when I tell them I walk around New Haven after dark. Have I gotten mugged yet? Nope. Have there been attempts? Hell yes there have. Will I get mugged tonight? I hope not. Who knows? I don't.

But yes, it's nice out, and I've been in a pretty decent mood recently. There have been reasons. I'd be in a better mood if I knew what I was getting for financial aid and if I had an apartment set in stone, and a job. Once things get set durring the next few weeks I should reach a state of near pure bliss. I'm shooting for those times when I use to act in highschool. The cast from Crimes of the Heart springs to mind like a jack knife. I don't think we ever got any actual direction from the director throughout that whole ordeal. I believe he was primarily working with cast A (the whole thing was double casted as to allow more people to take part in the process). One would believe we were the unpopular cast. We sure as hell didn't get equal treatment, and I believe we wrote out a list of complaints to the director after he yelled at us for some inane reason. I remember walking out of rehearsal that night. Not because of my anger of the situation, though it was shitty, but because my girlfriend at the time (were we actually dating still or was I seeing her on the sly?) was picking me up to go see the Jim Carey, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I bought a cool hat for cheep at the mall, so I guess it was worth it. But it was the working with the cast, having to self direct ourselves that made the whole experience fantastic. I had moments of that in college, mainly on the things I was directing (and in Hypochondriac when I ignored everyone complaining), but for the most part my recent theater attempts have fallen short of fun. Improv class has been making me happy though. I am so stoked for this weeks class, by the way. I'm so going to have fun! I'm not sick! YAY!

Man, I wonder what life would be like if I was funny? If I had excellent timing (which I don't) or if I had a sharp wit (which was once sharp and is now a bit dulled), maybe I'd be unstoppable. I'd most likely would be ten times more annoying though. So let's take joy in the fact that I am not in the least bit funny. Though I have my moments... no, no I don't, sorry that was a big lie. It's like my half nipple... or is it? Do I have half a nipple? Do you know for sure if I don't? Were you paying attention during that strip tease I did on the popcorn stand? Wait... no one who saw that reads this blog... um... I NEVER did a strip tease on a popcorn display case... never... and it was not sexy... and it was not to the tune of a Barry White song that I won't mention... nope... I have no clue what you're talking about... Will I do this again? Not on a popcorn display case that's for damn sure!

Um... does anyone actually read this? I asume no one does. Oh I'm sure some one happens to stumble upon this, but does anyone read this and actually ENJOY reading this? I mean you're basically subjecting yourself to a onesided conversation with me. It's like you lost your voice and I was wired on pixie sticks. That's what this is. How do you cope? No, honestly. How? This is all random and for the most part nonsensical. Thank god it's free, or so you think, as secretly as you read this I'm under your chair sneeking loose change out of your pockets. Muwahahahaha!

Monday, April 17

Aisle 27

Aisle 27: The Best Seller/Stationary aisle

Shhhh... I'm suppose to be doing actual work right now... but I figure what the hay? I'm going to jot down random notes on this here blog as I work throughout the day. Why? Because it keeps me awake.

11:04 am... books. Books upon books. They will never end...

I've decided that if I ever work in a library again I want to work in either public service or in a children's library. Why? Because technical services is a bit dull. Data entry is just as exciting as I hoped it would be. As exciting as slowly getting into a pool, one foot after the other, inch by inch, minute by minute, freckle by freckle.

Out of curiosity Carl... whatever happened to that slasher film you were going to make and set on Southern's campus? Oh right, you are a lazy ass! I totally forgot about that, you know being to lazy to commit this information to memory, as I am Carl.

I need to figure out what combination and what amounts bring out my various fake accents while drinking. I know vodka brings out a Scotish, Irish hybrid very easily, one need only make one Scotish/Irish reference and I'll be done, and that person will have to put up with me and my piss poor accent for the rest of the night. My eastern european accent is harder to place. I think if some how gypsies get brought up in conversation that might be the key, that or if some one says something silly and sets me up for a "In my old country" diatribe.

There was something I was going to type... it was genius. I know that. But what was it?

In two seconds I am going to draw evil eyebrows on the cute lamb that's on my calendar, this will cause me to smile for the rest of the day every time I look upon the evil lamb. Hmmm... I might go out for sheese kabob tonight.

Teehee... evil eyebrows have expanded to horns, goatee, curly mustach, vampire teeth, and the lamb is saying "Moo!" He is one bad mofo lamb. Lambchop got nothin' on my spring lamb!

I wonder what would have happened if I stayed at the factory? I actually think life wouldn't be all that different. Perhaps I'd have a car/scooter, but meh, who needs modes of transportation? Not me.

I just decided that I need a mp3 player and shall soon have one whisked to my apartment. This means I now need to clean out my cd collection. I smell a project for tonight! A blue iRiver H10 20 gigs for $140. I think that's a good haul for one day.

Time is almost up. The day is almost over. My rain coat is almost inflated.

Ding!

4:59 pm

And those be some of the thoughts in me head while working. There were others, like, what the hell is this about? And singing some lyrics in my head. For example as I type I have Skinnerbox NYC's Does He Love You? stuck in my head. Which always reminds me of the song Olive Oil sings about Brutus in the Popeye Movie. Great movie that.

Monday, April 10

Aisle 22

Aisle 22: Travel Size Toiletries.

Ugh... every single decent/cheep apartment I look at that has a roommate is barred from me because it's some one looking for a female roommate. Was it so odd that two of my first apartment type roommates were girls? Does this not happen in normal society? Was I just living with two freaks? Well I was, but still! I want an apartment gosh darnit!

I've subcumbed to my back up plan. I didn't want to pull it, but it's either room with multiple cats and with a person who my friends don't mesh with, or beg to sleep on people's couches for the next year or so.

I wouldn't be worried if I knew how much I'd be making in New York. If I knew what my financial aid refund was going to be, or what my job (which I still have to find) was going to pay me then I'd be fine to jump onto what ever apartment I can find.

From the looks of it I need to make at the very least what I'm making now split between work and financial aid crap. If I can some how pull that off I could technically manage getting a relatively cheep one bedroom or studio apartment for like 8 or 9 a month, but I just don't know. And spliting a two bedroom apartment between three people would be cheeper. Which would mean I'd be able to go out and actually see the few friends I have up there.

I hate not having money. I hate having to be concerned with money. I look at all my literary role models. They wrote, and managed to get by. They could afford a crappy apartment on whatever play or essay they published at the time. They didn't have to go out and wash dishes, or stare at the spines of books for hours upon hours. Ok well Kafka did work as a clerk, and that warped his mind wonderfully. But Becket? Ionesco? They wrote. Burroughs was an exterminator (or so I am lead to believe) also a drug dealer. I think the drug dealing brought more money in for him. What did O'Neille do? Oh yeah he worked on a boat, stoking the engines.

How do the other grad students do it? Are they all from rich back grounds? Do they all have trust funds? I have a friend who's parents are paying her rent up until she graduates. Why can't I get that? Oh... right... poor family. I often wonder how my sister managed to go smoothly through grad school in Indiana. Of course I'm sure Indiana was alot less expensive than New York is.

I'm spending all my time worrying about this, so yay for all the other things that have been locked up in my mind disapating! Yay!! And a couple of my friends are busting their asses to help me get situated in New York, which is very cool. Sergio and Kim are helping me search down roommates, a few new friends have offered me a couch to rest my head on, and Stacey is going to professionalize my resume above and beyond what I would normally attempt.

So goals for this week before I leave for my Mom's on Friday:

Call up NYU and find out what the hell is up with my financial aid.
Do the same with the Fafsa folk.
Put in emails for at least three apartments with people advertizing a need for roommates.
Call up NYU and ask about possible job opportunities.
Check the libraries, the theater, any where.
Email RRP and see if there is anyway I can offer my tech services to him.
Email Bill and ask for any advice he can give me.
Try to plan for a trip down to the city to court a cute kitten.
Put together an Easter package for me mum, and get me pa some candy I guess.
Figure out the whys and the reasons behind them.
Have a stiff drink.
Eat a cookie.
Finish reading that Ionesco book, or else I'll never do it.
And hmm... I don't know... clean myself up a bit? Climb everest? Eat a live siberian elephant who sings camptown races.

::Shakes fist::

...................end of line...............

Thursday, April 6

Aisle 12

Aisle 12: Medicine aisle.

I am sick. I have the sickness. THE SICKNESS!!! How did I get this? Who was the ebola monkey? It seems to be my room mate. He got sick from a co-worker, I got sick from him, hopefully I'll get our other roommate sick and all my co-workers as well. I am pestilence!! I bring upon you all runny noses, and hacking coughs!

Now the normal person would take this time to relax, have some soup and tea, but I am not the normal person. I am the kind of person who says what the hell, I'm going to go out and have some drinks and watch some friends make good music. Which actually got rid of the soar throat. Who knew the power of Guiness?

Tonight, now this is a night to stay in. Right? No. Stage reading to go to, stage reading that I have no part in, but stage reading none the less. I figure I can rest up and over think things or I can go out and preoccupy my mind. Looks like its preoccupy my mind. Health be damned! Be damned!!

What's on my mind? Oh, you know the usual. Same stuff that's always been on my mind. School, living situations, friendships, relationships in general. I have a load of things on my mind, and now I'm sick. Also I left my CD player at my two day a week job. I have been musicless since last Saturday. It has taken its toll on me.

But in the next few weeks things will either clear up or get more confusing. One way or another it will be entertaining.

See, ok. A little about myself, I use to be a very sour and negative person. Low self esteme and the whole lot. Yeah occasionally a wash rolls over me and I get the mean reds but for the most part I've taken this humorous look at my life. I figure if you can't laugh at your misfortunes then what can you laugh at? Prunes? I guess I can laugh at prunes. Yeah... prunes are funny shit. Well I guess it's time to prolong the illness and go see a stage reading. It may be good, or it may be worth a laugh.

Tuesday, April 4

Aisle 17

Aisle 17: The Artsy Fartsy Aisle.

Ah good old aisle 17. Look at it. Glorious isn't it? We've got all the makings of an uber art snob right down here. Fresh indie music, plucked from the finest commercial air waves, popular underground books that scream out the ideas of by gone thinkers (just with Atari games and 80's cartoons instead of Greek Mythology), art work that dares the viewer into even questioning its relevance in today's society. And the theater... wait... the theater? It's got to be some where in this aisle right? I mean it's an art form. Is it by the biased documentary films? Nope. Hmm, could it be by the politically charged comic books? No, not there. How about by the waffles? Huh? Anything?

GAH!

Ok so yes, we have come into one of those periods of an age where politics and art collide and for the most part this is a good thing. Art changes it's gears and goes from showing us what is beautiful to showing us what is absolutely horrid about our society. This is an important thing. Oh course not all art is created equal. (I'll get back to the theater thing in a bit, just indulge me for a second, as it's rare that I delve into politics)

Back in, oh I believe it was the summer of 2003, I was working as a music director for a small college radio station (WSiN) and I recieved the new album by the Suicide Machines. Ok maybe I should have known intrinsicly that the album was going to blow, but I love their break through album "Destruction by Definition" and I hoped that they decided to go back to their old ways and not embrace the vapid, evil that is pop punk. "A Match and Some Gasoline," this is the title of the album I recieved. It's... political, overtly political. Which again, can be fine. "Destruction" had some political songs on it. The video for No Face had a message (aside from that Punk's Not Dead, which it sadly is). So this new album could be just what the world needed.

It wasn't. Oh boy. No. It said exactly what every one was thinking at the time. But not only that, it said exactly what every one was already saying. War is wrong. Bush is a jerk. My girlfriend is a douche, but I miss her so. No new slant, no inovation, just paroting what they knew the crowds would be saying if for some reason at the keg party some one decided to talk politics.

I'm sure that the guys in the Suicide Machines, had the best of intentions. But the whole album just felt like one long complaint, which is what our country pretty much was doing all the time. Complaining but not acting. What I wanted on that album was a call to arms! I wanted some lyrics that didn't just say "This sucks!" but rather "This sucks and this is how we can make things better!" God even the hippies had a plan. The HIPPIES!! Well the old school hippies, not the new school ones, as they really aren't hippies. It's like if I decided to get a leather jacket, some braces, boots and grease my hair up I still wouldn't be a teddy boy, I'd be a charicature and nothing else.

For all the anti-hippy ideology that gets tossed around these days you have to give them credit for what they did. Hippies were the movers and shakers of their generation. They were the rebles, the punks. Yeah the stereo typical hippy was all happy and free love and drugged up, but when are stereo types ever valid? There were hippies of all types. There were the drugged up, sex bunny hippies that just wanted to be happy and make daisy chains, but there were also the hippies that were pissed off about how rotten the world was at the time. And despite not even being a twinkle in either of my parents' eyes I realize that back then, things were pretty rotten. People were being forced to fight a war they didn't believe in, women were still pretty much treated like crap, minorities of all types were treated worse than the women (who, again were treated like crap) and the atari was still several decades in the making.

All this crap, and they still managed to be happy. It's amazing, or it's a precursor to their children's bitter apathy (ah gen x, how I sort of wish I was one of you). But the thing was, and I hear this from all burnt out, institutionalized ex-hippies, is that they believed in a cause and fought for it. Litterally fought and bled for their ideals to be excepted. Some took this fight to the extremes (the weathermen, Black Panthers, and the yippies [not to be confused with yuppies], etc.) others were content with just taking over a university and causing a ruccus to get their voices heard.

Are things any different now? Not too much really. I mean the atari has been invented and subsequently abandoned for better platforms, but life still has its down sides. We're sort of are being forced to fight a war, many of us don't bvelieve in. I say "sort of" because as of now the draft has only been threatened to be used. Still, we have no actual control over how this war is handled, ah autocracy. Now there have been protests, there have been messages of dissent screaming across the air waves and internet. Yet we are still fighting the same old fight against an unknowable foe, and some more knowable foes while we are at it who may or may not be aiding this invisible threat.

The government has its mind set on this war and there is little to do about it. Sort of. See if every one actually was pissed off about the war, and the horrors that have incured since it's start then explain to me why these people who complain just sit around and not do anything productive? I'll answer because I'm one of these lazy asses. I'll admit that I haven't lead a cou. I haven't marched to Washington and demanded we start acting civilized. I personally haven't done anything because I personally have no clout in the political world. But at least I'm not making things worse. For example I'm not going around and getting into an argument about what political party one person leans towards. Fuck parties. Do you really need to be labled as either a democrat or a republican? How does fighting with some one with a slightly different mindset make things better? Just grow the fuck up, except that one party thinks one way and the other thinks another way and use these two perspectives to come up with a compromisable plan on making things a bit better. Actually you do know that there are more parties than just the two? Have a forum.

I'm not a liberal, and I'm not a conservative. I have no ties with republicans or democrats. I know plenty of each and I both like them and am annoyed by them equally. Deep down they are good people, fun to hang out with, funny as a 70's porno. But the constant pushing of political ideas they parrot from their smart role modles just annoys the hell out of me. I was an anarchist, but got fed up with the whole idea behind it, meaning I actually started to read anarchist literature and was like, um... this makes no sense, humans need leaders, because we are all assholes. For lack of a better term I could be called a humanist, which is fancy talk for hippie with out long hair and takes baths. I just want people to get along and treat people like they were people, and not something sub human. In the past I have stayed out of political debates because I saw quickly that they weren't going any where. Both parties will argue till they were blue in the face and both would leave with the same mindset. Nothing changes. It's stagnant. We live in a political swamp land. It's more likely that we will sink deeper and deeper into our own sludge than pull ourselves out of it all.

This all seems very bleak doesn't it? Like I'm a very negative person. I'm not. I think things will get better. I think once we get people motivated enough to start making art that isn't about proving hw political we think we are but is more about showing how life is and how it might get better, THEN we might see some improvements.

I am a theater junkie. I believe that theater has the power to make people think. I think the same about many art forms. Music is possibly the most powerful art out there, but I am not musical. I am theatrical. So I put all my beans into theater and hope something will pull the populace out of the muck that surrounds us.

Brecht made political theater. He made darn good political theater. I dislike Brecht's methods, but I still admit that his theater fucking rocked on a political base. While the Suicide Machines just kind of spouted out what they knew their listeners wanted to hear, Brecht put on stage humanity. And riots broke out. Same thing happened with Artuard, with Jarry, with the absurdists. Riots. Because people were forced to think, and when you force people to think, they tend to get angry. Angry because for the most part the thinking is done for us. By teachers, politicians, the media, our parents, friends and partners. We find something that sounds like it makes sense and we latch onto it making it our own. No struggle at all. But present something that shows life at it's worse and you upset people, because they now have to figure out why they are upset. In twenty years or less, the plays that started riots will be taught to bored high school and college students, and there will be no riots in the class rooms. There will be no riots because hopefully the issues that brought about the riots will have ended.

Are we as a society mad? Yeah. Are we mad enough? No.

In the words of Alfred Jarry, "Merde."

Sorry about the long diatribe, by the way. Will never happen again, maybe.

Monday, April 3

Aisle 6

Aisle 6: Bargin Bin Insanity

Man I'm staying in this aisle for a bit too long. With reason sort of. I've been thinking and freaking out about way too much. Looking for an apartment, looking for financial aid, looking for couches to sleep on, looking for roommates. Trying to figure out where the hell I'm going.

Things are all up in the air. All up in the air. Multiple things and they are falling, and I've got to catch them, and I have no mit. And I have to breath.








Ok... that's good. I'm set.

The waiting for things is driving me batty. Batty.

I'm normally pretty much ok and level headed, but right now? No. I've got an ex pining after me, a pseudo ex after me, I have old friends bailing on me, and I have gotten myself into something interesting, I think, or maybe not, I don't know.

I figure once I get to New York things will be a bit better. Less to think/worry about. More oportunities, more to do.

I either need a smoke or a stiff drink right now.

Possibly both.

Aisle 6

Aisle 6: Bargin Bin Insanity


Nuts to this, this situation that's not even in existance! Gah! Shoot me.

I've been thinking too much again. I really need to find a way to not do this.