Tuesdaze
Today I was supposed to wake up super-early and go to the school library and rock homework and all of that. But I just couldn’t get up. I was interrupted a few times in the night and didn’t get up at 5:45AM like I was supposed to. Instead I finally arose around 10. I did homework for a couple of hours, had lunch, and then played videogames for a little bit.
Nothing noteworthy about that except for the superb news that my PS3 is somehow backward compatible with old-school Final Fantasy 8. I played about 5 minutes before I said to myself “I need to really sink my teeth into this, and there are other games to play and other things to do.” So I played Smash Bros. Brawl on the Wii. Stuart lent it to me and I played a little bit of it. The side-scrolling game that comes with it is straight up awwwful. So I prefer the multiplayer way better and since I have no friends (to play with…*cough*) then the game itself becomes kind of a chore. So I tired of it quickly, and its in the starter-pile of “Shit to Give Back to Stu”.
Other than that, not much today. The house is empty, and thusly quiet and undisturbed. I am unshowered, in my pyjamas, and in need of a shave badly. When did I grow this facial hair? I guess that doesn’t matter much. It’s just weird to forget about it. I had pizza for lunch. It wasn’t that good. I really want a Pepsi right now. A big one. Pop and Pizza go hand in hand, I think. I might go to Monaghan’s for rib night tonight. It would be a nice diversion. I messaged a couple of folks to go, but they didn’t answer back. Annoying. I like answers, even if they’re “no”. Just as long as they’re prompt.
I finished the research for my Science Fiction presentation. Now I just have to wrap up the (really good, smart) information I gleaned into a script, and produce the damn thing. I’ve also got an English essay which is on a boring, straightforward topic I don’t really have much interest in completing. An my history essay where I don’t have a solid thesis for yet. And general reading and notetaking, which I’m a little behind in. Not the good little behind you find on a cute chick, but the little behind where you don’t really know where to start first. I’m about 1/3 through several books and I don’t know which one to finish first.
Welp, thats it for cool beans today, I think. I’ll figure out if I have good things to write later on in the week.
The Way Out Is Through
It’s kind of like grocery shopping when you’re hungry. It’s a bad idea. Blogging when you’re angry. And I’m angry. Just a bunch of millions of things. All wrapped up and delivered to my door, FedEx style. I’m about ready to snap. At myself, at my friends, at my parents, at the world. All those people I insulted through the drive-thru window were right. Karma’s coming back to kick me in the ass.
I made a dive at being less cynical and more forcibly happy. It works mostly, but not all the time. Days like today where things just keep acting up and not making their way to the positive area of my cerebral whatever. It’s not the idea of ever-crushing responsibility, or growing up, or anything like that. In fact, I think I’m too old for this shit. I’m ready to move on and get going. Get out and get things. But it isn’t happening. Mostly that’s my fault, but I’m trapped by other extenuating circumstances too. Money and school and weight come to mind immediately.
But its also this childishness that I’ve been forced into. I’m trapped here at home. I’ve been here an hour and my mom has intercommed me four times. Twice about me doing my laundry and getting my sheets from the dryer. The other times to nag and spread wise about things. I don’t think I’ve had a real conversation with her since I was 14 years old. Its all “clean this” and “don’t forget that” and “we have to do this”. That’s the one that pisses me off. “We” have to do this. Like “we’ll have to study hard, I guess.” Like she has to do any of the studying. “We’ll have to rush to get to work.” You don’t work, mom. Not yet, anyway.
Obviously I have some issues to work on. That much is clear. I think I just need to get out and go away and just live my own life, no matter how mediocre and unspectacular it is. I complain too much as it is, I might as well accept certain things, and then accept certain responsibilities. I think I’m going to try to spend as little time as possible at home. It’s a negative environment to be in. Not in that abusive way, but I’m sad when I’m here. Happy when I’m out. Not a big deal.
Should I look for a new place to live? Or should I just give up and live under this black cloud I’m constantly under? What if I made a complete one-eighty and really changed things?
Oh there’s that again. The life-saving speech. The try-harder-tomorrow. Honestly, why do I keep thinking I can do this?
Plain One Today
There is something simple and wonderful, in that strange way, of the York library. Sitting in your own little quiet cubicle. Headphones on. Searching the online catalog. Other souls doing their work or Facebooking or making out with their significants. It’s…calming. Dusty, musty books. Picking them up and bringing them back. It’s nice. It feels like a truly scholarly thing, and something that was sorely lacking in Sheridan. That’s a redeeming quality about York, and how big and beautiful and old-school classic their library is. Imagine the library in Se7en, only a little more concrete and forebodingly meant for straight up learning.
If I could take a picture now, I would. I am stacked! (With books!) It’s my own little personal library. Two subjects only. Football Hooliganism and Anime. Two very interesting subjects I have to make presentations or essays about. I’m a little behind on my business so this might strictly be a homework weekend, but hey, there you go. I don’t know how I’m going to fit all this literature into my backpack, but things must be done. Sacrifices are to be made.
I’m seeing my sister in Kingston for a little bit. It’s not settled on when that would be, but I think it would be a good time. She can pebble me with kisses and sarcastic comments. You can’t have one without the other in a bro-sis relationship, I guess. I’m kind of curious as to what we can do. Kingston isn’t really a hotbed of nightclubs or anything. And there’s that little minor age-generation gap. I’ve partied with the sister before – quite awesomely I might add – but this isn’t binge drinking in England with American comic nerds. This is a college town where all the kids have gone home. I’m sure she’s figured out something. I picture myself having to wrestle her boyfriend for dinner or something.
It Was Supposed To Be So Easy
With me, it’s always been a “how low can you go?” sort of question. An “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing” sort of thing. Mediocrity with me is something that is constant. Always hanging over me as I continue running down the trench you could call my rut.
Why the bad mood all of a sudden? I guess its because despite a little-tiny-bit-extra exercise and sometimes-amazing eating habits, I’m still rockin’ the weight gain. It is the most I’ve ever weighed in my life, and is also dangerously unhealthy. Drumroll please……….260 pounds.
So I’ve got to change some shit or I will probably die soon. I have “Men’s Health” open in the other window there, and I’m taking it quite seriously. This isn’t necessarily about looking the way I’m supposed to, or being skinnier or sexier. This is about being healthier. I played my dad at squash yesterday – before rolling in M&Ms and other shit – and I was a sweaty, flailing mess. My back was sore, and my chest hurt today. Not a good sign.
Plus, there’s another motivation. Thanks to Mirror’s Edge, I’ve gotten really heavily into Parkour and that sort of athleticism. I want to pull that off sometime. Or at least be healthy enough not to have a heart attack after running and jumping around for a couple of minutes.
It should be stated that I’m not taking drastic measures. I’m just going to be better about what I do and how I eat and who I am. None of this extreme “I’m gonna start off by eating nothing tomorrow!” bullshit that I end up doing. I just have to de-bulk, and that’s that. Luckily, I don’t need the Cuba Body anymore, so I’ll be able to manage a more lenient schedule and activity idea-thing.
Other than that, not much has changed. I’m still charging along at school. Still working at McDonald’s – less and less it seems – and still single and kind of lonely. I’ll probably be lonelier now that I’m forcing myself to avoid Wendy and The King but that’s life, right? I want to be more motivated in writing things and doing schoolwork, so I guess I’ll just have to motivate myself to do this new thing. I did buy new running shoes during my spend-a-thon. So now I have to justify them fly gears.
It’s Couper’s going-away party at the end of the month. Maybe I can spiff up by then?
Danger! High Voltage!
If there’s one thing I regret from this past week, its that I didn’t take any pictures. While my January got off to a rocky start – and in some ways continues a slow spiral of crap – this past week has been genuinely amazing and wonderful. Let me count the ways.
When Cuba didn’t work out, I took a proactive solution, one more befitting of a hyper teenage girl than my general awesomeness. I went on a shopping spree. A couple of DVDs here, four pairs of shoes there. Sale hoodies, sale jeans, sale shirts, sales. To cap it off I took a dangerous trip into Toronto to see Lindsay and Phil, and to spend some money too.
Toronto was the bomb. Mel Gibson tearing shit up and entertaining me more than Avatar ever could. Then supposedly amazing but only good chicken wings courtesy of Duffs. Tried the Death Wings. They were hot. Walked back and finally finally met the cute little princess known as June. Busted hump to Bar+ karaoke, knockin’ back the tunes and the ginger ale in our own private room. Radiohead, t.A.T.u. (!), Chris Isaak. Definitely going back again sometime, hopefully soon. Then it was up to the Golden Griddle for a big ol’ dinner. Then Marble Slab for some of the best ice cream I’ve ever had ever. Home early and exhausted. Full of love and food and life.
Other developments include coming up with my male-stripper name. (High Voltage) A new focus on the homework. A sore throat from belting out tunes. Ready to rock February like its the end of days. Shit, I needed a camera.
Loud Drunk Obnoxious Sunburnt Fat
Is it just me, or had 2010 been really shitty so far? The world seems to be ending. That earthquake in Haiti was a year-beginning bomb of awful. Hearing news reports about people shooting each other over looted bags of rice is never a good thing. I’m pretty sure that sort of thing happens all the time in other countries too, which is also disconcerting.
With that news, and seeing – clearly, for the first time – the way the students around me act and just the ever crushing view of the “real world”… I don’t know anymore. I just don’t. I want to tear my hair out and scream, but I also just want to crawl into bed and forget that anything ever happens.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. A lady missing the bus gives me the same amount of fear and derision and disgust as a bomb going off. I’m paranoid, gritting my teeth and steeling myself against everything. Why are you staring at me, you old piece of shit? You’ve got a fucking problem with me you old fuck? Why don’t you stop fucking up the line at Tim Horton’s and go back the nursing home? Stare out the window waiting for the grandkids that never come instead of judging me as I try to get some homework done. I left my Pepsi on the bus so I’m in a bad mood, old man. Push me and see how far I push back.
Ugh, it’s all so selfish and stupid. All this pent up rage and anger. Maybe I’m lonely too. Dissed – sort of – by that girl, friends not coming with me to Cuba, feeling like the only person who tries at school. I’ve seen the same 6 or 7 people for the past four or five weeks. It’s…disconcerting.
Sure, there are good moments in there. Wings at Monaghan’s with Stuartmeister Flex. Matty Oh and Ivona. But few and far between isn’t really cutting it anymore. Maybe I should stop listening to sad songs. Right now in my headphones its “The Scientist”, one of the most melancholy songs I’ve had the pleasure of listening to.
I just…I don’t know. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. Numb, tired, sick in the stomach. I need a change. I have this fantasy of just getting the shit kicked out of me. I get in a car accident. My jaw gets wired shut or I get a black eye. Bleeding gums and cracked ribs. Just because it would be something different. I get mugged. A man takes a metal bat to my kidneys and my chest. It would be something to talk about.
I’ve been accused of being jealous. This was a while ago. That I was jealous of other people being in relationships and that because I’m girlfriend-repellent I’m petty when it comes to the loves of others. I’m not jealous of relationships. Have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, I don’t care. I’m more jealous that having a boyfriend or girlfriend means that you get to do something. Something that isn’t in the ordinary realm of things. You go out and you do crazy, different stuff. It’s not work or school or the monotony of being at home. It’s out and about and new and exciting.
Maybe I just need a fucking awesome heroin habit. Making fun of customers at McDonald’s is my junkie fix, but like any good addict, it’s not strong enough anymore. And I have work today. Ugh. Fat losers ordering fat food from other fat losers. Nary a college degree in sight. Charles Darwin wasn’t controversial because his theory challenged God. It was because it stated that humans were just heading downhill towards nothingness. I think I agree.
So yeah, like I said before, no more Cuba. I’m kind of relieved. No more ancillary worrying on my part. No more tired research and website opinions. Reading reviews of resorts has the two main type of douche: the snooty been-there-done-that rich folk, or the people who can’t be happy for anything. My juice was warm one time at the resort. Never go back ever. Ugh. Maybe I should still go. Pretend to be a published author and rail my cock inside a MILF. Move on to her daughter the next day. Be everything I hate to be. Loud, drunk, obnoxious, sunburnt, fat, expounding anecdotes. You know what kind of guy that is. You’ve seen him before. Making up for a lonely time at home by buying a round for the bar.
But whatever. I’m looking the other way now.
Ready to Fall – Chapter 1
Copyright 2010 Craig Wilson. This is intellectual and creative property. Any copying, referencing, or duplication must be approved by the author first. Plagiarism is a crime, jerks.
gone.
Florescent lights hum and flicker to life, static buzz that fills the bathroom with a gray dull glow. The room is post-party. Beer cans, plastic cups, half-finished bottles, makeup, spills all over the place. Rubble, like in the apocalypse. The music coming from downstairs is danceable, loud, happy. A song you’d play at the end of all things.
This is a bad place to start a story, but there’s nowhere else to go.
I stand in front of the mirror. My reflection is ghastly. I’ve let myself go in reverse. Shaggy black hair, tired blue eyes. My skin is so pale it’s translucent, pulled tightly around my ribs and collarbone. I don’t know. I’ve been drinking this entire party, adding to the rubble, adding to my misery and messing with my perception so much that it’s hard to tell what’s going on. I can’t remember the last time I drank so much, which is a good sign of how much I drank the last time.
The song changes. It’s slower, deeper, darker. I know the mood’s changed downstairs. Things are starting to wind down. The lights are blue, and all the couples are starting to make out. Stacy’s sitting on the edge of a couch, waiting for me so we can leave. Same routine every weekend. Weekend sounds like weakened, which is how it leaves you.
I should probably let you know that I’ve decided to kill myself. I seem to remember I had a reason why but I can’t think of it just now. I just know I have to. I can feel it in my shoulders and behind my eyes. Constantly tired, constantly heavy, constantly sad. There’s a reason, but it’s for later, and I can‘t seem to remember it at this exact moment.
So I dig around the counter and come up with the only easy solution. A small box of spare razorblades. It’s such a teenage way to go out but I don’t have the fortitude to swallow the drain cleaner I saw behind the toilet. So I take the blade in my left hand and cut down my right wrist. It hurts right away but I grit my teeth and finish. Red zigzags appear and begin to flow almost right away, and I move to the other wrist and repeat.
It’s actually quite painful, a long and very sustained stinging. White noise fills my head and I grit my teeth, but other than that, not a whole lot happens. No nausea, white lights, singing angels, flashes of my life, cliches. No nothing. My blood oozes quickly from the holes in my wrist, forming little rivers that group at the tips of my fingers. Drips fall to the floor. Little violet puddles are starting to form at my feet. The song downstairs changes to something else. Same old makeout music though.
Talk about your anti-climactic.
But as I continue on, as more blood drips down, I feel myself becoming more tired. Heavier. I didn’t think it was possible but I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my whole life. I’m swaying in my stance, using every ounce of energy to stay standing up. But I’m fighting a losing battle, and I smile to myself. Death won’t be so bad. It’ll be like lying in bed after a hard day. Warm and comfortable and it’ll feel just like home.
As blackness descends and I begin to fall to the floor, the only thing I can think about is the whole suicide note thing. I probably should have written one, but I guess it’s too late now.
A Break in the Chain
Today was – and continues to be – a really crappy day. I don’t know why. I just feel like I hate a lot of people and a lot of things in this day. I seem to be surrounded by people who are blissfully fucked and stupid and all of that. I’m losing my patience. History tutorials are interrupted by assholes. The lesbian couple at the back of my Sci-Fi class won’t shutup throughout the whole lecture, the smecking, smacking sounds of them making out like someone constantly making a whispering buzzing sound in your ear the whole class.
A kid gets brain damage from playing hockey.
Haiti is slammed to the ground.
Another robbery at York.
It just leaves me numb. Or angry. Or a mixture of both. What’s the point of trying to do my best when everyone around me is a complete waste of time? I don’t know. I’m tired and upset and just hating the hoops I have to jump through.
Home
I knew my suspicions were justified, and it all came full circle on Monday morning. My British History teacher – a soft spoken, almost frail women – ended her hour-long lecture early. She spent the last 20 minutes of class saying that marks were down across the board. That for the first time in ages, the average of the essays were below “B” level. The midterm exams had an average of “F”. Again, this is the first time that this has happened. “Grades have been slipping for a while, but this is the first it’s gotten this bad” if I can paraphrase.
Ms. British History tried to explain it with “the strike” and “work” and various other excuses. I was rolling my eyes until she had the balls to suggest that people didn’t care. I know they don’t care. Except for a few people, we as a group want to scrape by. She sounded pessimistic with that train of thought, that her anger had blurred reason, but she hit it on the head. My fellow students do just the bare minimum and if they do work hard – for essays, etc. – then they complain all the way. I used to be like that, but now I know the error of my ways and I’m taking the steps to rectify that business. Confronting my folks about my D+ in Scientific Change helped seal that deal.
Today feels like a lazy day. No classes. Homework is mostly just reading. I’m stiff from sleeping too long. I beat both PS3 games I got for Christmas so that sits undone. Maybe I’ll toodle around “Home” winning free stuff or something. Personally, I’m afraid to go downstairs. My mom seems mad about something, probably related to me. Laundry basket? Maybe, I dunno. Normally she would have intercommed me to tell me it was 10 and that I should get my fat ass out of bed, but nothing. Silence from downstairs. Hmmm…
One of the conditions of going back to school – and paying for that schooling – was that I was able to stay at home rent free. It was a large concession my parents made, but something that became necessary over these money starved months. Alas, my parents are now charging rent. Not too much, but just enough to make me sweat. And back rent too! So I have to figure out a way to come up with that cash money over a short course of time. I know I sweated the idea that I won’t work extra shifts for people or McDonald’s, but it’s necessary now. Of course the change comes after I put my foot down. It doesn’t help that I’ve got one shift this week either. I can’t blame them though, I am a lazy snotty just plain awful worker.
Mom just checked on me. Slammed the door to her room. Says she’s fed up with everything. My suspicions confirmed? I guess so. Was it the pizza I ate? My room only being marginally tidy? I know it has to do with me, so there’s that at least. Sometimes it really sucks to be mediocre and disappointing.
I have a very interesting school project coming up, but I’ll leave the details of that for later.
More Hot Air Than Action
An unlikely album I’ve had on constant repeat since I jammed it into my ITunes lineup has been “The Listening” by Lights. On the surface it’s a derivative pop album in the vein of Dido or something to the equivalent. But underneath the (extraordinarily gorgeous) good looks of the main singer and Lilith-Fair leanings is a very pretty and distinct ambient album. Think Brian Eno or Kraftwerk with a cooing voice overtop. On the main website, Lights describes her music as “coming from the rings of Saturn”, and I can picture that. Little synth blurbles and throbs line up the songs and it’s a really enjoyable, simple listen. Of course, my indie cred is being completely wasted at this moment in time, but that’s fine. The more I read Pitchfork, or listen to the smug lip-smacks of NPR’s music program, the more I look to hip-hop, dumb-rock, or poppy-fun as a way to get my musical kicks. It’s probably blasphemy amongst my friends, but I guess that’s okay for now.
I returned to school with a mission: to go above and beyond. In the first semester, I was let down with the sameness of the situation when compared to my previous years of schooling, as well as the long nights. But I entered the new year with renewed vigour. Despite that, I’ve put myself upon a daunting, near-impossible task. There are a lot of books to read, and more that I’m interested in looking at. The essays have gotten larger, more complicated, and worth more marks in the end. After hearing teachers complain about a lack of interest from the general populace, I’ve tried to distance myself from the acts of complacency that define my peers. So I have to push harder, read longer, and fight for input.
The big kink in my plan involves two separate entities: Amazon.ca and my social life. Amazon messed up my book order for school, making it nigh-impossible to cancel, as well as about two weeks late. That means that I immediately start about 3 books behind in my reading by the time I get to them. Paying for books at the bookstore + paying for the return of my purchase to Amazon is a pointless endeavour. So I’ve tried to work around it, reading short stories in my course kits or focusing on textbook note-taking instead. Still, it’s a major kink in things.
My social life was something I was willing to forsake, though. It may sound mean, and I ensure you (the dearest of readers of this blog) that my intentions were pure, but I was thinking about putting my friends behind me as I removed myself from Facebook trappings and began to circle the academia life. I needed to focus on one or the other, and I’ve had a difficult time mixing them in previous times. Also, I went on a diatribe about wasting my time! How there were things I wanted to do.
I very quickly came to the realization that friendship and the people around me were completely necessary for my sanity. In one example, I had a choice. Turn my back on a lady I know, or cherish her for who she is. I chose to keep her in my life, no matter the impact of what that means. The other example had me choosing a solitary Cuba trip, something that I wish to elaborate on, because again I do not want people to get the wrong idea. Elaboration:
I think the idea of going to Cuba with a dozen or so friends and loves would be a completely superb and beautiful idea. We would tear it up, it would literally be an adventure. Personalities mixing wonderfully in an exotic environment. But then plans started to change slightly into something that wasn’t entirely favorable. Not to say that I hated these ideas, but with school and other people’s schedules, it seemed to be a trip spinning out of control. This was a catalyst for a train of thought I’m still considering: To go it alone. It wouldn’t be so bad, honestly. Trips to Hamburg and around London proved that I can get into all sorts of mischief when alone, and it’ll be a wonderfully respite from work, parents, social responsibility, all of that. No need to please, you know?
It’s not mean, or a slight against the people I’d be going with normally, but the being alone thing is an appealing idea. Not as appealing as the group trip, but something nice nonetheless. Hopefully a compromise will be found where everyone will be happy.
But it was that loner mentality that I felt was holding me back. Rather than being productive, as I thought it would be, it was a drag. Cold, dark nighttime where nothing happens. So I’ve been making plans and pulling myself out of the dregs of loneliness and apathy. I went with Matt and Ivona to play Glow-in-the-Dark Mini Golf, and get some general vittles at Greyfriar’s. Very simple, plain, teenage Oakville things that have been repeated before, but still wonderfully amazing. It took a weight off my shoulders and refreshed me into a more productive mentality. It crossed a couple of things off my list of things to do as well.
So I’ve transferred my holier-than-thou-screw-the-computer-life ideals into something that mixes productivity with fun and accomplishment. Normally, I’d want to focus on one or the other, considering it “living life” but that’s not what a fulfilling life is. It’s balance the right things and spreading the right things around. It’s making an impact on yourself, and doing what feels right. It’s strange to be actually putting it into practise, but I’m getting used to it. An example: Prior to writing this blog, I spent several post-class hours doing chunks of homework, reading “A Clockwork Orange” (not for school), reading course kit stories, and writing small parts of “Ready to Fall”. Rather than being worn out and tired from focusing on one major thing and grinding away to its end, I’m refreshed and still intellectually capable. It just took a shift in priorities, and in size. And I stayed off Facebook at the end of it all, which is good.
I’ve put a lot of focus on the so-called “evils” and “time-suck” of Facebook, making it out as a proprietor of the main amount of my online time. But it was only icing on the cake. Blogs – reading them, not writing – were also a big one. Entertainment and gossip ones that rehash the same old press-release, watching Youtube videos, interesting this, stupid that. It really is true: The Internet Makes You Stupid. I felt my attention span and my thoughts and ideas turning to mush. I used to be a fellow with a lot of things to say or to opinion on, but all that wasted time and meaningless internet stuff turned my head to cotton. So I’m working on being a better person; or more specifically, a more fulfilled person.
But one more thing I’m adding to the personality pile is determination. If something doesn’t go my way, then I’m not going to roll over and take it. When I’m at work – if you can call McDonald’s work at all – people might call me determined. If a customer does something or if the management makes a mess of things, I am determined. I let people know about it, I spin the situation around to something nasty, parodying and pointing out the flaws. I offer up suggestions, but they’re jokes. They’re comments on idiocy, meant to be heard but not acted upon. I follow this practise into school, where I gnash my teeth and make fun of what I consider the modern example of school and the student. It’s, to bring it down to a silly, simple, probably-should-have-used-it-before-I-went-on-an-example-tangent, is that I’m more full of hot air than action, and that should change.
A more down-to-earth example: Girls. I will hem and haw about certain ladies. How I’m really down with a woman and want to be hers and how I think she’s awesome. I’ll do this for a very long time, and my friends more than fully know that there is no depth to the self-loathing, insecurity, and on-the-fence actions I take with girls. Roll your eyes all you want because I know I am. Anyways, I’m afraid of being rejected, or things changing, of whatever and ever. Instead, rather than hemming or hawing about it, I’ll just go for it. If I think that waitress is cute, I’ll tell her. If I love someone, I’ll let them know. Radiohead wrote it best – and a little more cynically – when they wrote that you’ll be rejected a million times in your life, so there’s no reason to worry. Just go on.
But with females its just a tiny, more obvious thing to exemplify. Determination – and my resolution to be determined – will stretch itself into other aspects of my life. I have book ideas – great fucking book ideas – and TV show ideas and movie ideas I’ve been working on forever and ever. Why haven’t I gone up to a publisher and smacked some hot-to-trot-new-literature in their face yet? “Because I’m busy with school.” “Because it might not be done yet.” “Because I’m scared.” Fuck. That. Shit. I’m just going to go ahead and push that shit in the right direction. If I’ve got something to say to a teacher, I’m not going to just do it in English class, or to get participation marks. It’s because I’m motherfucking right and you should motherfucking know I’m right.
I made a list so I’d know what to do in life, and figure out the steps I need to do in order to accomplish those actions. But now its time to start putting that business into action, rather than letting it just sit there.
