arrrrrgh! damn you blogger! give me my invite to my group blog!!!!!!!!!

i stare at my monitor....the blinking cursor like a 21st-century telltale heart.....mocking me as i try to write, to write, to write......but my muse has eloped with my drive and left me friendless.......

ride. a beautiful comic referred to me by rose.

where are you, teresa?

Jonathan didn't want to go back class. Out in the playground, he was safe, until the teachers started coming looking for him. Who did this to you, they'd say. Who's responsible? And he couldn't tell, either. Usually, Joseph left him alone, but if he told, he'd beat up only Jonathan for days and days. It didn't matter if he was doing the right thing or not, cuz in the end, all that mattered was who got punched and had their lunch money taken away.

The tardy bell rang, and Jonathan got up. But he didn't go back. He walked right out the rusty gates and out past the old liquor store. Jonathan could remember a time when he didn't have to walk places. He remembered that back in second grade, Dad would drive him and Cindy around. To school, to the park, to the zoo....

He remembered the zoo pretty good. Especially the duck pond. He still went by himself sometimes, but not that much anymore. To remember. Those days when Mom and Dad loved each other, when they paid attention to him. When all he had to do frown and they'd do something to make him happy again. Usually, Dad would take him to the duck pond, and sit under a tree, telling him about the ducks until he fell asleep.

But that never happened anymore.....

"i never know how i'm feeling... it's like i feel an emotion so strongly but i just can't place my finger on what it is..."
— from rose's blog

oh man. oh man oh man oh man. i've bene at pluckers for the last three hours. well, the first hour sucked. we, being me, charlie, rob, mike, and wilson, just sat around waiting to be seated while party after party of four went ahead of us. we were about ready to leave,
but we stayed.

and man was it good.

i can proudly say that we finished a mother plucker. that's one hundred (100) wings. twenty of them were fire in the hole wings, the best wings ever. but hot as hell. well, they're not that best going down. but after you swallow, all that hot sauce just comes back, killing off any taste buds you may have once had. you have to compose yourself for a good few minutes if you're going to keep any sanity. the only thing you can really do is to continue eating as quickly as you can.

charlie, he was a champ. kept sending a nonstop flow of fire in the hole wings going down the gullet to meld his internal organs into one burning mess of ulcerous flesh. michael downed four before he neigh passed out face down in the pile of bones. rob did two, and each time he ate one, he probably excreted the same volume back out in sweat. me, i've had the fire in the hole before, so i was content with getting only one. but i would not let wilson leave without trying one. it's something you've gotta try.

best wings ever.

t's online right now. i want to tell him i'm sorry, that if there's anything i can do to help, he needs only ask. i want to understand what he's feeling, to let him know that his old friends are here for him. but how can i even talk to him? what could i say to him? where to even begin? i've no experience with this kind of thing. i can't say that i understand his pain, because i don't. so, like all those other times this past week, i sit awkwardly at my computer and simply stare at his screen name.

i put the link to receptacle back up on my profile. maybe, in a fit of curiosity, he'll click on it and read this entry. maybe he'll im me. or maybe he'll understand tacitly. i'd be happy with that, too.

or maybe he won't. that's okay. this is a place for my own private thoughts, anyway.

i want my three minutes back.

thank you, jennifer. you never judge.
thank you, robert. you are the insightful third party.
thank you, teresa. you are the voice of reason.
thank you, michael. your optimism is uplifting.
thank you, rose. you always lend an ear.
thank you, vijay. your consideration shows through.

thank you, dad. you always think of my happiness.
thank you, mom. you help me secure my future.
thank you, chris. we both try so hard.
thank you, grandma. you worry about my ever after.
thank you, grandpa. you've always made me laugh.

thank you, joe. you put up with me all the time.
thank you, kevin. you're concerned even about an old fogey.
thank you, mrs. yang. your wisdom enriched my life.
thank you, todd. wherever you are. for everything.

sunday. the party is such: me, john, michael, vijay, kat, stephen, and jen. the concert is thus: incubus.

it. fucking. ROCKED.

it was my first time in the pit. exhilarating? yes. much of the time i couldn't tell where i stopped and the next person began. it was as if i was surrendering myself to a hive mind driven by music into a berserker frenzy, pushing and shoving in every direction.

too bad i'm a rather small person. as robert put it, "you're a toothpick with a head! you shouldn't be in the pit!" well, i found that out the hard way. i could only stay in for about half the concert before i started feeling unwell. but once i regained my composure, i continued to scream out the lyrics to every song i knew.

of course, when i woke up monday, i was hoarse and sore all over from being in the pit.....

"girls just don't understand when you wipe stuff off on your jeans. cuz i mean, that's what jeans are. a portable towel wrapped around your crotch."
— vijay

RuroniKenshin83: when was the last time you were actually with her?
RuroniKenshin83: like, hanging out
Raging Aardvark: hmm. last year, homecoming
RuroniKenshin83: because i dun think any of the people lower in grade than us really know that you're troubled.... they remember you as a strong individual
RuroniKenshin83: they know your front
RuroniKenshin83: only recently have you begun to show your vulnerable side to others
RuroniKenshin83: you do realize that right?
Raging Aardvark: you bring up a good point
RuroniKenshin83: to them, its uncharacteristic of you
Raging Aardvark: i guess so, yeah
Raging Aardvark: that makes sense
Raging Aardvark: *sigh*
Raging Aardvark: i guess i was a bit too volatile
RuroniKenshin83: understandable
RuroniKenshin83: man is a creature of emotion
RuroniKenshin83: wisdom comes with years of desensitization of that emotion
RuroniKenshin83: but then what is the point of wisdom?

thanks, robert.

that was extremely insensitive. too damn bad, i'm pissed at you.

i tried changing the template for a group blog i'm on, but i got this message. it's good to know that the people running this thing have a sense of humour. or maybe some bored intern is just having fun at my expense.... o_O

Sorry, you can't make template changes right now, as the template server is being kicked around worked on. Thanks.

rose, don't be caught in the gpa game. i've always despised that game. cuz it doesn't really matter that much what kind of grades you get. it's only one aspect of who you are. your stories, your beautiful poetry, your wonderful demeanour, those are some of the things that really count.

and what's wrong with pistachios? i love pistachios! and i must admit that i've spent quite a few hours on that game myself......

"It's easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission."
— Claudia Jones, my high school creative writing teacher

i have so much stuff to blog about, but i don't feel like blogging....ask me later.......

someone get me a dagger for my birthday