Hey, all you lucky loyal readers! So, this has to be posted within a few hours, but I really haven’t had the time this week to write the thought-provoking miniature works of literature you’ve become accustomed to. You will not get an angst filled rant about virginity tonight. You will not get a venting about how much my job sucks tonight. Hell, you won’t even get a Midnight Rambling. Instead, what you’re going to get stuck with is a collection of paragraphs and sentences that have nothing to do with each other! Each one could become the basis of a future column, or each one might never be mentioned again. Either way, they all have one thing in common. They are being put up to fill space. My, don’t you feel lucky that I feel such a great responsibility to all 12 of you that, even when I have nothing to say, I still say something? Listen up, then, for this glimpse at the sewer of my mind.
I had that dream again last night. You know, the Ally McBeal dream. Yeah, I know what you think. These dreams are weird. You think that if I were to have an Ally McBeal dream, it would involve Callista Flockheart and Jell-o, or some such erotic nonsense. But no, I have something more straight-laced. In these dreams, I am Mark Cappis, the new lawyer at the firm. It’s like I’m just the new character on the show. How lame is that?
“How many times do I have to tell you? I’M NOT A POKEMON!”
As I was lying naked in the tub, I started thinking how much more relaxing this would be if the tub were filled with water.
The whole concept started with the cavepeople. See, we originally had these two cavepersons, let’s call them Zog and Zorg. Zog grew potatoes and Zorg was a hunter. Then, one day, Zorg was getting tired of bronto burgers every night, and Zog was getting tired of french fries. So, Zog said, “Hey, Zorg! I’ll trade you a couple of potatoes for some bronto steaks.” And thus bartering was born. Society was happy with bartering. But then, a third caverperson was introduced to the mix, Zach. Zach had no meaningful skills whatsoever, save for the gift of gab. Zach wanted some bronto burgers and potatoes, too, but had nothing to trade. So, Zach grabbed a handful of rocks and polished them up in the river. He went to Zog and Zorg and said, “I’ll trade you these shiny rocks for meat and potatoes.” Zog and Zorg, being easily impressed with shiny things, gladly accepted. Zach thought this was great, but he wanted more meat and potatoes. So, he said to Zog and Zorg, “Having one shiny rock is good, but having lots of shiny rocks is even better. Keep giving me meat and potatoes, and I’ll give you more shiny rocks.” Before long, Zog and Zorg were doing nothing but getting meat and potatoes for Zach, all in the name of more shiny rocks. But, Zog and Zorg started catching on. Soon, they too started trading the shiny rocks for other necessities of life. The friendly spirit of bartering and cooperation had died that day, and along came the concept of money. And now, we find our days constantly filled with working for cavepeople so we can get more shiny rocks.
And Kenten curled up into the fetal position and began weeping like a little girl. (Sorry, Kenten, I just felt like throwing that in there.)
And that’s when I started thinking, “When A&E does do a Biography on my life, what are people going to say about me?”
Death is a funny thing. I laugh about it constantly.
I needed an anime fix tonight. It had just been so long since I’ve seen some, that I was starting to get the shakes. So, I went to the video store across from work, and rented Sailor Moon R The Movie: The Promise of the Rose and Sailor Moon S The Movie: Hearts In Ice. Of course, they were dubbed and severely edited, but it would make the cravings subside. The first one was about this guy, who was a friend of Darien’s when they were kids, who had come back to earth to “reclaim” his friend, but he accidentally teamed up with something evil and was about to destroy the world. The second one was really Luna’s story, as this talking cat and Sailor Moon’s mentor actually fell in love with a human male. And, as with the entire Sailor Moon universe, the recurring theme of fighting for love and friendship was underscoring both productions. It was near the end of the first one, when all the Sailor Scouts were rising up to fight along side their friend, and thus lend her the energy from their friendship, that I came to startling realization about myself. I am such a girl.
Tonight, we will rely on our brains, and our hands.
We have greater worries than a dead Spock with no pants.
Just as I was placing the role of tape on a scale to determine its mass (what can I say, it’s a really boring night), Beverly walked up to me. I often wonder just what the hell Beverly is doing working here. She has recently finished high school, but has yet to go off to college or some place like that. It’s obviously where she belongs. But yet, she’s here. She has long dark hair, and deep brown eyes that you could get lost in. Her smile is the cliched kind that lights up her room. In the black hole that is this grocery store, she has a kindness and purity to her heart that she hasn’t lost yet. She makes working here tolerable. And it’s for those reasons that I think she should get out of here as soon as possible. At least she’s my supervisor on this long, boring day.
“Whatcha doin’?” she asked.
“Putting my education to work,” I replied. “I’m analyzing the motion of this roll of tape. As soon as I get its mass, I can determine its velocity as it smashes to a halt.”
“Why?” Wow. This is the most she’s ever said to me.
I really hate going through this for my co-workers and the customers, but if I have to, I have to. “Because I have degrees in math and physics, and I hope to get out of this hell hole someday to a job where I actually use those degrees. Until then, I may as well keep my skills sharp.”
I never liked teenagers, and I think I never will. When I was younger than them, they were this dark, mysterious force. Now that I’m older than them, I find the immaturity and arrogance that dominates their lives to by annoying. And when I was a teenager, I hated my own kind, which I’m sure you’ll agree just isn’t natural.
How come I never told her I loved her?
Just stop the fighting. Stop the fighting. STOP THE FIGHTING.
People are stupid. There’s just no other way of saying it.
The bolt of lightning shrieked from the sky; unknowing of its destination. It did not know where it was going, nor did it care. All it knew is that it must strike the ground and die, for it was a bolt of lighting, and that’s what bolts of lightning do.
If Jack helped you off a horse, would you help Jack off a horse?
I once read that all people who keep diaries have a subconscious desire for someone else to read it someday. What better way to get some attention than to make the subconscious conscious? So, I satisfied my craving for attention by posting my diary online, and calling it a “column.” It’s not exactly the best thing to do. There’s this new advice columnist in the Edmonton Journal: Caroline Hax. This young man once wrote to her for advice. It seems that he met this really cute girl and got her phone number. Then, at home that night, he was just goofing around on the Internet, entered her name into a few search engines, and it wasn’t long before he found her website. He began reading her online column, where she’d spill her guts about her inner demons on a weekly basis. After reading some of her works, this guy didn’t like her so much anymore. So, he asked Ms. Hax for her advice on how to deal with her. Ms. Hax responded that she’s obviously just a loser seeking attention, and that, despite how cute she is, he shouldn’t call her back. This got me thinking. This woman’s website paralleled mine in so many ways, and that was enough to make this man not like her. In my cravings for attention, I never stopped to think about what kind of impression I’d be making on the world. Revealing all my secrets on the Internet isn’t such a smart thing to be doing. It’s time to make my secrets a secret again.
This has been my opinion. If you disagree, that’s your right. If you agree, I thank you. Now go forth, ask others, and get the balanced argument on your own.
And, just like when I was writing papers for university professors, the word count tells me this is long enough. I hope you enjoyed this wild ride though my psyche.