I ran over A DOG... IN SPACE. Almost.

Sometimes i drive my space dog mobile into the dog planet "dog-place" and i run over space dogs in my space dog driving car. In this space dog driving car, where is dog pictures and various dog related things. These things can include dogs, and space dogs (but mostly dogs). When i dress myself with dog skin and explode from my only semi habituated dog lacking planet (known as earth) i make sure to try and drive over as many earth dogs as possible with my dog crushing dog car. I call my dog car Dr. Dog Destroyer the second. Dr Dog Destroyer the first was broken into by a gang of space dogs. They stole my car lighter. Those damn dirty dogs. Anyways, my Dog driving dog destroyer was speeding through dog space time when ALL OF A SUDDEN.... i drove over a dog... IN SPACE. Almost. I guess it's a dog eat dog car driving fender world.

Hello, my name is Roland. Please stand back while I redefine the circle.

We can all agree that my life has been great but it can be better. Strangely it only took a simple class exercise for me to discover this.

Let me introduce myself, I'm just an ordinary guy trying to make the best out of life. You could say I'm living the hedonistic lifestyle. While this consists of sleeping in late, which is good, it means I don't do anything productive, which is bad. The times I am up are waste on YouTube and games, which is good, it also leads to time being wasted, which is bad. To sum up the majority of my life, it consists of sleeping, playing games, and amusing myself with cat videos. I think it's safe to say about a quarter of the views have been from me on keyboard cat. While this lifestyle is ideal, it's something that I'm fed up with. In light of this need for a positive change I'm setting forth a plan, one of which will either fix me, or cause my own demise; either way you guys have the privilege to be up front and centre.

Debut music

Before I go into the details of my wonderfully planned outline, I feel it's necessary for me to explain why this post was created. This all started in creative writing class. We were being taught about the technological side of the industry, as the physical part of publication has decreased over the years and online presences are the norm. What I speak of are blogs, which for an emerging writer we're given the opportunity to showcase our works to a broader audience. The main problem with this gift is that we're in competition against one another as writers, we try to get ourselves noticed by the internet; a mad dash to create an interesting profile for others to connect and familiarize themselves with. This is where the exercise comes into play, as a way to further develop the reasoning behind our blogs. Oddly enough in our writing class this exercise didn't revolve around what the main subject was, writing. Rather, we were indulged in an activity that had us visually represent who we were or how were were feeling with paints. Now for any person who had to represent themselves visually comes challenges, one of which I did encounter. Like if I was a duke blue or princeton orange, as the choices of colours were many. In the end I finished the exercise and this is was the result. Now for the plan.

Step one is to figure out the key things in my life, and as the list stands it consists of sleeping, gaming, and overall anything fun. While the idea of becoming a professional sleeper is one I'd love to pursue, sadly there's no demand for this occupation, yet. Perhaps the sleeping industry would need more time to sleep on it. This then leaves me to ponder about my other options, especially the gaming aspect. It's safe to say I play games constantly, who doesn't nowadays. For the longest time it's been a dirty habit I've been embarrassed about, but as the first step of addiction treatment states, one must accept their disease before they can change for the better. Myself, I'm just getting around this curve. But to admit this seems to have negative connotation surrounding the habit itself, the complete opposite of what I've seen trending around the web. This is clearly evident as YouTube persona like Robbaz, Videogamedunky, Psystarcraft, Niichts, SomaZ, Purge, and others who thrive as the community gamers people spend hours watching, myself included. Now to make a long story short, after spending a considerable amount of time thinking things through I've decided to throw my hat into the ring. Only once I get a better nerd machine (computer) to handle the task ahead. For the time being I'll be planning the ground works and letting you folks into the thought process behind so.

Step two will be figuring out my online profile. Stay tuned for the next episode.

Painting for class exercise       

Bribing homeless people for their clothes

     Sometimes I wonder how much easier it would be to be homeless. If I really give it some thought, and naive reasoning, a homeless person is essentially living THE life; the true 'thug lyfe'. I can't imagine a time when being homeless isn't better.

     Here is a hypothetical, imagine you are on the bus going to an ostrich party or something and some homeless guy gets on (for free) and sits next to you. Now this homeless guy smells like a potent syrupy concoction of sweat, mostly dry liquor, and maybe poop. From your angle that guy might be the worst thing to ever assault your sensitive nose holes - sensory rape if you will. He not only smells bad, but kind of ruined the idea of going to an ostrich party. He looks just as bad, his face and hair look like they probably got stuck in a car engine (for at least a few days). Not only that but it appears he only owns jean jackets and military surplus clothing. This guy is perhaps the epitome of homelessness; at least in your eyes. So here is the question, how do you feel about this man?

      I guess that most people would be disgusted by this man, they might feel a moment of remorse for judging him so harshly, but that's just how it goes. If you disagree you're probably trying give yourself a big ol' pat on the back for being such a morally righteous cunt. Now think of the scenario from the homeless mans perspective. From this homeless guys point of view he just received a free ride, but this is no ordinary free ride. This free ride is full of people who simply smell fantastic. Everyone on this bus is so worried about looking like an idiot and smelling like a body odor anomaly that they cover every inch of themselves with some cosmetic or another. This man probably spent about 6 whole dollars on all his clothes and somehow this doesn't trouble him. You on the other hand have spent at least 70 dollars on all your clothes. Finally his looks, he looks like a sack of dripping puke, but you look fantastic. What better way to have a nice day than to look at nice things all day. Thankfully for this homeless man, the streets aren't littered with mirrors, only other comparatively beautiful people, so he doesn't really have to worry. You meanwhile are having terrible day, because all you really have in your world right now is this homeless man burned into your mind. Thus if we were keeping score right now it would be Homeless Man 3 - You 0 maybe even -1. This homeless man is now enjoying a wonderful day. Truly a grand victory and when you're homeless there are only grand victories.

     What I am trying to get at is that no matter how great of an ostrich party, breaking all social conventions comfortably may be one of the greatest feeling a person can feel. So when you see a homeless man, bribe him for his clothes. And when I say bribe him for his clothes, I mean ALL of his clothes. Even if you can't wear his clothes because it hurts, sleep easy knowing you've made the streets a little more awkward until he's found the nearest Salvation Army.

This might just be a regular Russian man and his dog.

The Beauty of Technology

This is a story of my personal adventure under the influence of foreign substances. I'm not condoning this shit and all that so shut up about that. This is just a little log of the silly things I did. Take it as a story and nothing else. I use very excessive language in this article, a lot of fucks, so just skip this article and don't bother reading it.

I for one embrace the technological advances that we as humanity develop and hope that we suffer no hindrances in our plight for absolute sentient artificial intelligence. Technology itself is something that should cherish instead of take for granted. We are left with messages and images from long ancient times from their own set of advances. Limited by their lack of camera mounted phones and cloud servers they resorted to cryptic and murky recollections of events passed and are left to decipher them with a mindset that would find no friend in the times that it was recorded.

Today I experienced first-hand our advantage over the less fortunate ancestors of our past.

The following events were recorded using three identical blue pens, a blue pen that belonged to a beautiful Asian woman that I stole a pen from accidentally, a notebook,  a Smart phone, and a 1^st generation iTouch.

Let my personal recordings be an example of the vast ability that we have in the field of recollection.

The story begins at July 24 2012, a Tuesday. It would be my second time taking the express trains to my work and I still had that fire that burned for those with a new job, a sense of new purpose.

I had worked for these people for four months now but I was training my ability to talk on the phone and I wanted to experience personally how my boss and colleagues did their salesmanship. This work consisted of talking to people on the phone and convincing them to switch to our more environmentally and more lucrative offer. I won’t bore you with any more of the details for that’s not the important part.

The important part is that my boss and colleagues are very experienced veteran salesmen and smooth talkers so they are very good and relaxed with their work. They are so relaxed that they indulge themselves in some weed during their peak work ours. This concept of smoking drugs was not a new phenomenon for me. It wasn’t even new that my boss smoked, I had smoked with him before but not during important business work.

The work day started at 9:00am and by 12:10pm I was in a whole different state.

I was mentally mushed to the point where my most basic facial controls were left to the mercy of my giddy mind (I was told later about how much my facial expression changed into various shocking degrees).

“My throat is so dry”

“Can I pretend to call you because I can’t talk to customers like this OMGGGGGGb

“I can’t work like this, fuck man”

I went for an hour sitting on my chair trying my hardest to look like I was occupied with my work. I even attempted to call a customer but they had hung up on me due to my painful silence after they had picked up.

It was by this time that I had decided to make an excuse and try to ditch early. I was starting to sense that my colleagues noticed that I was doing no work and thought I was in huge trouble.

"I'm in trouble"

I had looked at the laptop begrudgingly before looking down at my cellphone pretending that I had gotten such a disappointing text that I was forced to groan.

 I announced that I had to “Go turkey” and started packing up my stuff. Then my boss and my two colleagues agreed and said bye to me.

This was when the fun began.

I walked 20 steps from the door of my boss’ place in the middle of rural Burnaby before grabbing my cellphone from my pant pocket and asking four friends what I was supposed to be doing to “go turkey.”

It was then that I realized that I was not acting normal and my scribbles began.

“Guy behind me I think is following me. He has a dog and I tried to kill it using snickers bar.”

“[unsure what I wrote here]”

“How do I turkey?”

“The park has no end. its looping omg”

I had stopped at an intersection after talking briefly to a friend and stared deeply into my closed book filled with the phone numbers of restaurants. It was during this time I had realized just how incredibly hot it was today and I was wearing a long sleeve business coat fully expecting it to at least be windy or slightly raining. The beams of the sun were pelting upon the cotton fibres of my stylish coat and liquefying themselves into a veil of uncomfortable sweat that wrapped itself generously along my flesh.

I began walking through a park when I had noticed a man walking his dog. Now let me be clear that I love dogs and I would never hurt one, maybe verbally I will crush their feelings by muttering softly in their ears that they are stinky, but never physically.

Paranoia began rearing its disgustingly eager head and I started to believe that this man was following me and trying to kill me for some reasons unknown to me. I reached deep into my jacket pockets and grabbed from its depths a blue pen and a half-eaten snickers bar that was supposed to be my lunch. In an attempt of distraction I split the snickers bar in half and threw it over my shoulder increasing my pace. Yes, I tried to distract the dog by giving it my snickers bar but I realized seconds later that chocolate was poisonous to dogs. I hope that dog is okay; he probably wasn’t even trying to kill me, let alone trained to kill a man.

I grabbed the pen and started scribbling down the frantic thoughts in my head. After looking back above my shoulder for a fourth time I retreated back to my intense pondering about how exactly “to turkey.”

I briefly noted that every time I would look up from my notebook it appeared that I was at the same place in the park even though I was briskly speed walking away from my pursuers.

“I can’t feel my sweat I’m not waiting and [unsure what I wrote here]

“I tripped and fell [contact number] she gave me a contact

 By this time I was out of the park and walking aimlessly around the skytrain station (It’s called a skytrain where I’m from because it’s in the sky)

I vividly remember paying for a ticket with my card and quickly running up the broken escalator, tripping quite badly half way up.

Luckily a nice lady saw and gave me a number after I tripped, telling me to call her if I needed any help. I remember wondering why she seemed so concerned and then wondering how to exactly call her.

“Some guy saw my journal. He’s looking at me like a fucking idiot. Fuck him!

“Teal shirt, Asian guy”

“They all think I’m gunna bomb the train, fuck dude this is scary”

“I can’t feel my sweat”

“This is bad”

“That guy is moving seats”

“He thinks I’m gunna kill him”

“Oh my god dude who is dude who am I talking to?”

I was writing the previous page while walking onto the bus. I caught a glimpse of an Asian man’s judgmental look upon my journal and quickly jotted it down on my way to my seat. I was so infuriated by him that I wrote down his specific characteristics in hopes that maybe later I can exact revenge upon him.

My paranoia began escalating at an all-time high and I realize that I’m mumbling to myself while viciously writing down everything I’m both thinking and mumbling.

Half way through finishing the line “They all think I’m gonna bomb the train, fuck dude this is scary,” a man seated in front of me who might have heard me mumble the word bomb got up and moved to the other side of the time, this time facing my direction. I wrote down my thoughts on that.

“He’s looking at me,”

“My sweat really hurts”

“I’m bleeding”
“Help help help help… help help help… help help help”

For those unaware of the dangerous of not using aftershave, let this be a quick lesson. Being a man gifted with gratuitous facial hair, I find myself being lazy and shaving very rarely. During the morning before, I had decided to make myself a lot more presentable and shave, unfortunately I was in a hurry and I did not have time to apply aftershave. The result became a sharp hot stinging on my face when exposed to my sweat. The stinging became so intense that I clawed at my cheeks and wiped my sweat vivaciously, a man tearing off his pain.

Long story short I ripped open a cut that was healing on my jaw and I began bleeding, this added to the pain.

The pain was so intense that I wrote help over and over with my right hand while scratching my face with my left hand. The whole event was exhausting.

“I’m still at Royal oak”

“This ride is not going to end”

“It’s going to Edmonds”

“I wrote this in 20 seconds”

“Was Royal oak to Edmonds 20 seconds or am I losing my perspective (perception?) in time”

“Hi, I’m not who you think I am, I am a normal, you think I am not,”

Time began feeling slow and I had thought that the train was not getting anywhere, even though it was moving.

It was during this time I noticed that someone was looking at me from a chair across from me. I wrote a message clearly at the bottom of the page in hopes that it dispels all thoughts of my sanity, or lack of it.

“I’m sorry for not being able to talk to you because my lips are really lick (dry?)”

“That guys eyes are still on me. This is not good. This is not good”

“He knows I’m staring at his eyes, he’s going to fucking die. Fuck this guy he’s looking down”

“Fuck him-”

“The girl next to him is really hot”

“Wow she looks a lot like Annabella”

“When is she leaving?”

I continued my conversation with the man looking at my journal from across the train with writing and apologized for not being able to say anything coherent to him.

I looked up at the man who moved seats again and he was looking at me with what I remembered to be a grin on his face, I could have been wrong.

Paranoia once again as I contemplated killing him, absolutely normal.

Then I suddenly noticed a girl who was seating in front of him, idly staring at the window and minding her own business in a set of her own white earphones. She looked hauntingly similar to Annabella, a whole different story all together, just know that she was a lost love that I still had feelings for (D'AWWW).

“Fuck Fuck! Annabella (stupid fucking heart) ”

“Noone is sitting next to me”

“They think I’m crazy. Oh fuck she really looks like Annabella”

“22^nd street”

“Hot girl”

“Oh crap she looks like her”

A potpourri of emotions began coalescing within my mind and I began panicking, still scratching at my sweaty cheeks.

I quickly noted down the station name that I was on before continuing my ramblings

I noted again that she looked like Annabella.

“When she’s getting off I’m getting off”

A devious plan began forming.

[unsure what I wrote here]

I think she’s going to fucking leave”

“Shes going to”
“I’m really [?]”
“How this is really bad”

“Fuck Fuck is she Annabella?”

“Leaving hot”

“Leaving”

The next couple minutes consisted of me intensely staring at her and waiting for her to leave so I can leave and talk to her. Yes, even though I was quite aware that I was not exactly 100% at the moment, I still found that it was absolutely necessary to talk to this person who looked like Annabella.

“Oh fuck I’m in VCC clark”

The Skytrain system in Vancouver is very straightforward and easy to use. The only one thing that makes it a bit tricky is the fact that there are two sets of trains going back towards my home in one set of rails, skyrails. That's why you have to know which train you are on. 

It turns out that I was on the wrong train and I was headed farther from home, the Annabella-look-alike was also. In the diagram I had taken the Millennium line instead of the Expo line.

“I took the pictures pretending”

“But it had flash”

“Holy fuck I’m dumb”

“This is fucking stupid of me”

I was so entranced by her likeness of Annabella that I needed to take a picture of her.

CREEPY AS FUCK

Sadly I was fucking stupid at the time and took a picture of a pole that was so adorably obstructing her face from the picture, but luckily not from the blindingly obvious flash that I had forgotten to take off. I could almost feel the proverbial spaghetti building up in my pockets.

We had stopped at a station and she got up quite quickly, avoiding my eye contact. I quickly followed.

She stopped and looked at me from afar while I slowly approached her, my book open to blank pages.

Holy crap just thinking about this makes my teeth hurt from the sheer awkwardness that she must have experienced.

Words were said, only from her and all I could do was look at her with tired eyes and she sighed.

In absolute surprise she reached into her purse and took out a blue pen. With one fluid motion she grabbed the book from me and wrote her number down on an empty page on my book.

She handed me the book back and I grabbed from her hands both the book and her pen.

Holy fuck right? The amount of fucks going through my mind were astronomical

“Fuck”

“She last station she doesn’t know the last station”

“Lake City Way”

She quickly went on her way after asking if I was okay and if I needed help, all I could do was look at her sympathetically and nod. She told me to be safe and to call her and quickly went off.

It was here I realized I had no idea where I was and I quickly jotted down the first sign I saw, which was Lake City Way.

(I ripped the page before with her number on it after I took the picture and stuffed it into my wallet for future use)

“Help I’m”

“Patterson”

“taco bell”

I learned to love and embrace such clichéd acts of fate when I wandered down an elevator and walked around until seeing a taco bell…

Glorious glorious ambrosia…

The next couple hours consisted of my aimless wandering and getting a haircut and tipping 200%.

If you’re wondering how I remembered this all quite so vividly, the picture before you is but one page of eight notes that I wrote while I basked in the glorious air conditioned barber coupled with the rhythmic calm of the snipping and buzzing of various hair cutting tools.

If the barber had read what I was writing then it sure didn’t affect the fantastic job he did on my hair.

As I regained a small sense of coherence, I corrected my mistake and headed home, this time fishing my earphones from my pocket and resting them in my ears, mentally shutting me from the world and into the world of Biggie Smalls.

I wrote various poems on the way back, trying very hard to completely isolate and occupy my mind.

I also drew a nice lady and she complimented me on my quick sketch of her. If you see this feel free to contact me for this drawing, I would feel quite uncomfortable if someone had a sketch of me listening to music contently.

So in conclusion, if it wasn’t for my pen and paper and my phone, I could not have recollected all these memories of my absolute fucktardedness, thank you technology.

Also, can you show me a more troubling text?

I received the text 4 hours later, contrary to his usage of the word "just."

Ended up being PCP..


DRUGS ARE BAD

The pictures are taken from the safety of my own room

Thanks to my fucking friends for their amazing memory when it comes to stupid shit I do, and not when we’re lost for directions and it’s your fucking job to remember.

Relationships and stuff

   I’m here to bitch about girlfriends. They’re an unnecessary hassle, waste of money, waste of tears and I hope she never reads this blog. There exists in this world a magical time period in-between a breakup and being single once again that every man experiences. This magical moment is comparable to when a beautiful stallion gallops down a pristine grass field, the flowers and tall grass crunching beneath its strong hooves, its majestic mane flowing behind him like a trail of fire. Then another stallion crashes headfirst in full speed into it creating a mesh of bloody gore and a visage of cruel animalistic misery. Not really actually.

 Somewhere between stage 3 and Single

  There is a strange moment after you break up with your ex-girlfriend that triggers a reaction in your male brain that makes you want to scream “I WANT TO TOUCH SOMETHING AGAIN.” It’s an eerie feeling, similar to when you’re vacationing at another city and CSI: Miami comes on at 8:30 instead of 7:40.

  This feeling unearths all the horrible feelings you had about the girl and makes you think, what the hell is wrong with me why did I date her? That is the failsafe switch that lets you move on with your silly life.

   I was once with a girl, a devoted devourer of books. She read only trash though, remembering nothing and leaving out the long paragraphs because it strained her and made her disinterested in reading. I would bring her to the library and she would seat herself down and spend a long time choosing. She would fumble with the book, fondling the spine like a parader’s baton, turning its pages quickly, and opening it once again at a random page and peering at it sideways, like some investigative official.  Sometimes she notices that she opens the book upside down and turns it ninety degrees along with her head. This whole process lasts for more than an hour and not once did I ever find out what it was that made her decide on the books that she chose… probably the title or artwork of the cover. Being a judgmental individual, if a person I had just met did that with me on a trip the library or bookstore, I would promptly call them retarded and think very low of them. In retrospect I probably didn't care that she did that with books because she had a fucking amazing butt.

Anyway on to the patch notes

EARTH   Patch 1.2

• Feelings of love will now take into account both physical and emotional attraction to the individual before causing chemical reactions to drive your body to autopilot.

• Physical attraction was valued far too high in the love process and is decreased to 50% down from 80%

• Emotional attraction was valued far too low in the love process and is increased to 50% from 20%

Priorities

• Monetary value was uneven and thus unfair for both genders.
• Before the hotfix females were far too concerned about monetary status of the males

• Before the hotfix males were not as concerned about monetary status of the females

• Monetary status for love is now taken away and is no longer necessary in order to have a good relationship. 

• Common sense and love did not seem to be compatible in the early stages of love and common sense was being overridden by the after-effect of love, which is lust. This has been fixed and both genders will now think with their proper head when dealing with decisions regarding love and relationships

•  Both females and males will no longer have the urge to blame themselves for relationships that have failed and will both agree that it was a mutual effort or lack thereof that caused it.

• We will still not put restrictions to same gender relationships even through the complaints we have had about it, just suck it up people, love is not selfish.

User Interface

• Males
• Random erections no longer occur. Added causes are; light breezes, eating food too fast, eating food too slow, reading a really good book, cutting into a hard piece of cardboard, smelling newly laundered clothing, being accidentally touched by the grocer when she/he hands you change, new car smell, new house smell, new book smell, new smells, hearing the crackles from a campfire, hearing ghost stories, when your significant other is crying, when your significant other isn’t crying, when you’re nervous, when you’re tense, chewing excessively, making eye contact, high-fives, low-fives, wearing shorts to the gym, wearing shorts to work, wearing shorts to class, wearing shorts, wearing socks with sandals, sneezing, hiccups, watching tv with family, watching tv with friends, when you can taste the bubbles, bench pressing, cutting wood, listening to Queen, laughing profusely, crying profusely, biking, jump rope, driving, and eating bananas.

• Females
• Random nipple erections no longer occur. The only causes are now the temperature and state of arousal.

TL;DR: Bitches ain't shit

The Fortunate

       Ever since I was a small insignificant little child I’ve always sought out to find the fault in others. I grew up quite poor, living off the scraps of those selfish rich that throw away bones with enough chicken left on it to feed a family of fourteen! 

I have quite the tendency to ramble about those slick days of my youth, stealing from the rich. I found myself admiring my own nobility, because seriously… I hate the rich! But alas I digress, yet again… This set of patch notes will change the behaviour and tendencies of those 1% that we all hate, because at the end of the day nothing is more fun than ganging up on people that we hate and smiling to yourself that you hurt someone’s feelings instead of crying yourself to sleep because you aren’t sleeping in wads of 100$ bills. On to the patch!

EARTH   Patch 1.1

•      There will be a cap of $40,000(USD) a year allowed in money earned.

•          After attaining a cap of 40,000 a year, your stats and position will reset and you will have to restart at a lower profession (Janitors and such)

•        Each time your stats and position reset you get an achievement, no one can see this achievement, and it’s all about self-satisfaction!

• 
  

POSITIONS

•         If the player that is reset is in a position of leadership or high stature, the person underneath the individual in position will take over. This will ensure balance and let everyone have a turn being CEO.

•          All resets will occur at 11:59pm PST and any excess money earned before reset will be distributed evenly to the closest individuals during time of reset.

•        All existing items earned by the individual reset will be given to your most neglected family member. You know, the one whose calls you never return you big jerk.

User interface

•       Memory leaks are fixed in this patch, no more randomly forgetting what show you’re watching during the commercials. (I hope that’s not just me).

Friends Dream

I came to already standing in a world as foreign as the back of my hand. It took me moments to blink out the final dots of uncertainty as this foreign world slowly morphed into a familiar but yet unfamiliar scene. I turned around almost instinctively, automatically greeting those around me. We were just a couple of budding adults grouped around the broken remnant of what could be called the battered parking lot of a building. It was no question that we were all doped up on some mind altering magic. Petty smiles and half open eyes were all the evidence that I needed. This was a strange feeling that I had not experienced before. One were to expect terror and confusion when one wades through a swamp of sticky trouble and muck, I was calm and collected. It was almost like I had finally felt some sort of inner peace, it was all quite nightmarish and alarming.

Once the silence had been broken, I had spent three seconds questioning my inner self if I had indeed greeted those around me with absolute silence, not even the sound of clapping hands or the bristle of loose clothing with rough skin. My inner intuition was not one that regarded itself as an active individual. It guided me along my life with simple prods and pokes and sat back down, its hands crossed with a sly smile, poking me when I needed, a sort of instinctive dejavu if one were to have to call it something. I turned around to Sam, his shrill voice penetrating the white noise of this strange world.

“Hey buddy, It’s Sven!” Sam bawled from the groggy distance. I squinted my eyes towards him, the world a shimmer and swaying in the disappearing horizon. He was basked in a world that spun upon itself, like looking far across a desert landscape, the heat shimmering untold secrets of oasis’s and water fountains. I closed my mouth, how long had my mouth been hanging? The question exited my mind just as quickly as it had entered it.

                “Get over here! This Instant!” The dream-like Sam now yelled commandingly. I knew not what caused the feeling of dread inside my guts but I decided to follow my gut and run away. My sneakers hit the broken pavement in the opposite direction.

                “SVEN, SVEN, STOP IT, WHY ARE YOU RUNNING, SVEN!?” Bellowed the now crazed animal that charged in my general direction, at least I think it was my general direction. If one were to witness a crazed animal running towards them yelling their name, would it be safe to assume that they were after them? The question seemed rhetorical to say the least, but I thought of it anyway.

                I opened my eyes, not knowing that I had closed them. Sam was with me once again, not the animal that I thought was after me. We were mindlessly talking about something, the subject of which had left me while I was running away from him. Was I actually running from him? I craned my head to my left to see another person, a white girl. Her face had looked like it was peppered from up close by a high powered shotgun filled with cute little freckles. I remember thinking that she was indeed very pretty, so I went along with my previous thought and thought that she was indeed very pretty.

                When I turned back my attention to Sam, I realized that he was attempting to give me some sort of advice. I nodded and raised up my top lip, pretending to be absolutely interested. The points Sam was giving to me were absolutely interesting and I found myself being entranced by what he was saying.

It was during one of his passionate explanations of potted plants that I found myself half-dazed. It was an out of body experience that seemed to be happening, not surprisingly, out of my body. I watched myself as I grabbed the girl that I remember thinking was very pretty and began vigorously inserting my tongue into her mouth. I watched as her surprised face turned into a more accepting face. It was all quite poetic if you think about it.

Her little giggles had enticed me to continue. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves laughing hysterically out of our minds. She had given me great kudos, saying that I had a great start and good middle with the movements of everything I had done. We continued to laugh until I suddenly had a strange feeling of pure disappointment as I realized this was 1^st.

I opened my opened eyes once again at a gated building. I could not see the building itself but I assumed that it was of course safe to assume that the gate in which I could not see over held within it a building in which I could not see. The gate itself resembled that of a modern day slum gate with the faintness of the slightly upper middle class who drove civics and drink on occasion. I took a quick step back and saw the building itself with a civic resting on the driveway.

I felt the once idle intuition poke at me, retreating back into its comfortable lazy boy chair in the depths of my mind as it ignited the cogs of action into my head, reaching into my legs. Though it had indeed been the first time I had seen this place, I found myself not bothering to use the now rusted metal gates that were towering over me. Instead I took the alternative route and started to scale the building using idle structural objects around the walls themselves to gain any footing what so ever. Navigating through the urban jungle like a metal monkey, I had finally managed to scale the massive gate and found myself looking down seven stories. I furrowed my brow, not remembering scaling such a high building, let alone noticing that it was a building I had just scaled. I broke through a window with my fist and entered the room nearest to me, it was room 717.

I was welcomed by a slur of partied souls that on different occasions I might have regarded as my friends of friends that automatically made them friends. I’ve never actually met these people enough to consider them true friends, I knew not of their habits or if they had ordered the soda or diet soda from the McDonalds, thus they were not my friends. The word acquaintances come to mind. I knew that sliding through this battlefield of half drunken people was not going to be a very easy task, it would involve contorting my body to unlikely god forsaken shapes and sliding between timed gaps in this ocean of broken dreams of love. I found myself contorting my body in an unlikely god forsaken shape sliding between people as I came to, letting my inner thoughts wash over me like a warm delightful shower. I had a half glazed look and stood in a strange shape before finally blurting out with the top of my lungs “EVERYBODY ON THE FLOOR GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY.” It all happened in delicious slow motion. The mass of people parted like the red sea for the eager Moses. Debris from the parted individuals littered the floor, it seemed like those attending this quite big party had no limits as to what to bring. As I maneuvered my way through the now parted crowd, I took note of the stacks of illegal and legal prescription drugs that I ran past, the alcohol bottles, and the boxes of General Lee’s Boxed Mandarins that laid helter-skelter upon the floor.

I was now stumbling around, the parted sea of bodies seemed to have converged once again into a now manageable blob of party. I was receiving my own fill of pick me ups and put me downs from hands that seemed to not be attached to a body. I drank and popped and sniffed my own fill of fun before I had, by absolute chance, bumped into an old friend of mine. Kelly was once an innocent girl whom I was great friends with. I looked upon her with squinted eyes as I realized just how much of a façade she had become, a shell of her former self. She noticed me loafing around and quickly engaged me in conversation, it almost seemed like she was expecting me.

“Sven is that you? It is you!” Kelly pronounced. She sounded like the girl I knew formerly, this one was but a shell, did I mention that?

“How is everything? Oh my god are you okay? What’s new with you? Done anything lately?” Without missing a beat I answered the barrage of questions thrown at me in a heartbeat, I left sufficient time for this exchange of words to come to a sudden and silent halt. I found myself in some sort of fighting position, my hands in a karate chop fashion looking upon this shell of a Kelly.

“You should meet my boyfriend,” She continued, completely disregarding the fact that I was in such a position that I could rip off her shelly Kelly throat if I deemed her unworthy.

She continued, “You should totally meet my boyfriend, He’s a really good boyfriend, and you know what? I’m going to grab my boyfriend so you can talk to my boyfrieeeeeend,” Kelly the Shell blurted this all out to fill the sudden silence. I recoiled in pain, my hands shielding my face from this shell monster. I was unaware of the events that unfolded after that, perhaps it was the copious amounts of prescribed hallucinogens I previously allowed into my system at my earlier arrangement, or maybe the few beers that I had managed to snag while roaming around this party, it might actually even be the mandarin that I had found from one of the General Lee’s Boxed Mandarin’s I found myself eating which contained at least five uppers and downs unknown or known to the medical field. Whatever it was I found myself dealing with a drug trip I couldn’t best. 

My Sad Little Story

 

    There is a story about a close relationship I would like to share with you all. It involves a regular couple, Jim and Samantha. Now Samantha is your average girlfriend, but she is absolutely in love with Jim. Jim is the same towards Samantha and they make sure to let each other know this every day. Jim was always a gentleman, treating Samantha like a princess, like every girl dreams about, until one day he had proposed a little game for them. Jim had asked Samantha to see if she could last 24 hours without contacting him or any of his close friends or family. Of course Samantha refused to at first but Jim upped the stakes and promised that if she could succeed in this task that he had asked her to do, that he would love her for the rest of her life. Samantha being a very sensitive person reluctantly agreed, noticing how badly Jim had wanted her to do this.

    The following day started and Jim was not lying beside her in their bed. The 24 hours had started and she could tell it would be a hard 24 hours already. She had made breakfast accidentally for two and watched the untouched eggs from across her table as she ate solemnly. She watched TV lying down on the couch without knees to rest her head upon. She stared at her cellphone contemplating whether or not to text her beloved, but thought otherwise. Jim must have been doing something very important or something very mean. Thoughts of malice began to crawl into Samantha's mind. Jim could be out drinking with his friends because he was tired of being with her, or worse. He could be out cheating on her with a different, much more beautiful woman.

    Samantha began thinking of all the times he could have begun his little cheating ways. He had told her many times that he was heading for the hospital for his checkup, but it always seemed fishy to her that he went so frequently. She had trusted him completely so she would not question it otherwise, but now it got her thinking. What if it was true? Jim could not have asked her to not contact her for 24 hours just to go out with his other lady friend; he could have done it like before if it were true. Samantha sighed in relief, Jim would never do such a thing, they had been through far too much. The rest of the day was eventless and Samantha had retired to bed early in an attempt to end the day as soon as possible.

    The next day, Jim was not beside her again. She had received no texts or any messages in their answering machine about his whereabouts. It had been 24 hours, she was sure of it. Samantha drove to Jim's parents' house to find out exactly what was happening. She was far too occupied in her mind to notice all the cars parked around the building. Her spot right on the driveway was empty and seemingly reserved if anyone else had noticed other than her. She could hear noises from inside the house, many people were in there. She knocked on the door only to find it open. She entered the house and saw many of Jim's close friends and family with looks of sadness upon them, some of them crying and visually upset. Her confusion deepened and she began to feel a different emotion creeping up, dread.

    Jim's picture upon a frame was placed on top of an adorned coffin in the middle of their living room. Her eyes slowly examined the scene, unnoticed that all the eyes upon the room were now upon her. There was a note, a note addressed solely for her placed on top of the coffin that no-one was to touch other than her. Samantha quickly grabbed the note, pushing back the obvious scenario in her head and thinking that this was all a charade. The note had read, "You did it baby, I'm so proud of you. I knew my princess could do it, now can you do it every day? I love you forever and ever."

    Jim had been slowly dying from cancer for many years. He had tried his hardest to keep it hidden from Samantha, some people say he was a selfish person for keeping it hidden from her, but it was his own decision. Life gives us moments like this that shape who we are. It may not be quite as extreme as Jim and Samantha's story, but hardships are part of life, and it is something that we all share.

My Recipe

Different type of story I've written today! Hope you all enjoy it!

                I’ve recently been occupying myself with some shows in the wee hours of the night. I watch during the time where most people in this world of ours are busy indulging themselves in their dream world and the restless like me sit and enjoy shows that they would otherwise not enjoy. 

                Simply put I believe that I myself am an insomniac. I spend many hours watching useless infomercials for products I will never purchase, old TV sitcoms which I will never understand, and commercials that I will never recall. It’s during this time that my mind is at its most vulnerable.  Unlike shows I watch in the afternoon or early evening, I don’t attempt to comprehend every detail in which is conveyed to me. I do the opposite. 

                I attempt to compare things that I watch to other things that might otherwise not be related in any way, shape, or form. In essence it’s how I exercise my creativity. That is how I came up with my recipe for happiness.

                I was channel surfing one night when I came upon the food network program which depicted a rather plain looking woman making herself a complicated dish. I do not recall the dish anymore but I do recall how complicated it was and how she kept reminding her audience to take extra vigilance when doing the dish. Apparently one mistake and it could make the dish rather disgusting. I myself not being much of a chef found this strange. I never would have assumed that cooking had the same static characteristics as that of a mathematical equation.

 I decided to try out my new found discovery by making something significantly simpler, Peanut butter cookies. Like I had mentioned before, I am not much of a chef, so I had to Google the recipe and find the simplest way to make these cookies. After numerous hours of being sidetracked I finally came across a rather simple recipe that required very little steps. I decided to make haste and create these soon to be delicious creations that I could devour. 

The recipe itself scrutinized just how exact I had to be with the measurements, which further solidified my belief that cooking was exactly like math. So I followed the steps, used the proper measuring tools and applied the perfect temperature and eventually all the gooey cookies I had molded with my hands of absolute creation had been prepped for cooking. I was ecstatic to say the least. Do bear in mind that beforehand I had not eaten for 2 days straight for some forgotten reason, so these cookies were looking already delicious raw and doughy.

Now my readers, comes the sad part. I had put them into the oven and smiled to myself over the extremely excellent job I had done producing said peanut butter cookies, when suddenly I re-read the recipe and came across a grave fatal mistake that I had done. There had been a footnote at the bottom of the page I had printed out regarding my peanut butter cookie recipe! It read, 

“Caution only use Smooth peanut butter, not crunchy peanut butter.”

 This was around the time I panicked, everything I had worked for was now destroyed because of some foolish blunder! Oh how I had wished I read everything over three times instead of two and caught my fatal mistake before I had placed my cookies into the oven.  I panicked and grabbed the oven handle opening it the door with complete panic and zest.

I stared at the cookies basking in the warm glow of the interior of my oven, like calm brown rocks sleeping underneath the warm sun.  I promptly closed the oven door and shrugged, walking away from the oven and sitting back down upon my couch.

                I had learned a lesson that day, a very important lesson. There are only two things in life that don’t let you make mistakes, University Professors and Women. Don’t let the little things bug you like that; mistakes are but a window showing you into the correct path. I smiled to myself, bit into one of my scrumptious peanut butter cookies and realized just how amazing of a chef I am.