Frame of Mind

You don't know what you need, because you know that what you need is inside of you.
No other can give you what it is, only you are able to give it to yourself.
You don't know what you need, but you know what you don't need.
You can feel it in a deep part of you, it screams "this isn't it".
You ignore it, but it gets louder.

Each passing hour it becomes more discontent, begging for what it needs.
Finally you break down asking what it needs, all it replies is "not this".
You can't ignore the screams, you have to get what you need.
Frantically you search, but always comes "not this".
You can't do it, you're going to break.

Absolutely nothing feels right in your life, everything and everyone is wrong for you.
It wrenches inside of you, tearing a hole through your soul.
You feel life suddenly leaving, forgetting you exist.
You gasp for help, reaching to anything.
"Not this", "not this".

You can't do it anymore, you're going to explode and nothing will be left of you.
"Not this", "not this".
You've fallen to your knees, begging it to answer what it needs.
"Not this", "not this".
You try to get angry, you have to feel something, anything.
"Not this", "not this".

You lay dying, nothing left to keep going, defeated by yourself.
"Not this", "not this".
 You remember, in the past, how you lived.
"Not this", "not this", "I need that".

You drag yourself to that old place, it's dusty, but it's safe.
You see remnants, what you needed, but not anymore.
You go to the unopened door, there always is one, always.
You enter, finally peace, you begin to stand up,
Those long forgotten words shake your mind and body "thank you".

You see yourself, your mind, your soul.
It's broken, twisted, injured.
It isn't right, you can see it, something is off.
You grab ahold of yourself, and it takes you a step to the left, not allowing its feet to follow.



Confidently and Honestly,
D.

TL; DR: Sometimes freedom is simply a change in perspectives a way.

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

I’m a terrible human being. Oh well.

Okay, so thinking it about it retrospectively, I guess the third grade was a good year for me. Maybe good is a strong word. It was an eventful year.

First girlfriend √

First kiss √

First time stealing √ (a sweater from our school’s lost and found box)

First “fight” √

First time lying to the point that somebody gets suspended √

What? Just me?

Okay, in my defense, I was young, dumb and didn’t know about morals yet.

I can’t exactly remember what happened that made this whole thing start, but one day I just didn’t feel like going to school, I guess. So, as the school bus came, I hid behind this green electrical box. The bus just drove on by. Now, not knowing my parent’s schedule, I guess I just assumed that my parents left RIGHT as me and my sister went out for school, because I was extremely surprised when I got back to my house and my mom was still home.

As a relatively nice and rule abiding child who never skipped school ever, meeting my mother’s gaze was extremely terrifying. I just didn’t know the consequences of doing such a terrible thing. So when she asked me why I didn’t go on the bus, instead of saying something practical like… Oh, I don’t know… I missed the bus or it never came… I said the following: I’m scared, I’m being bullied on the bus.

When I realized she was home, it’s like time stopped. And all the options went through my head, and that seemed like the most logical. I answered in maybe 10 seconds.

In my mind, this whole thing played out very smoothly. My mother would acknowledge this ‘horrible situation’, let me have a day off school and that would be it.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

My mother jumped on that shit so fast. She wanted to make sure that I got avenged for the months of being bullied, I suppose. The next day, she drove me to school where we talked to the principal… Now, normal people would have given up here and told the truth. But I was way too stubborn for that. I knew that what I said to the principal had to be my official story. So I told him how, when where and why these two kids were harassing me in the bus.

This lead to them being summoned to the principal’s office. Next to me. As I lied about them bullying me.

They looked at me like I was a complete idiot. They weren’t wrong.

The whole situation lead to their parents getting informed that they have been bullying a kid in a bus, and one of the two kids got suspended for three days.

Needless to say… Those two didn’t talk to me much after that. Not that they really did in the first place… but you know.

That’s life, I guess.

You live, you lie, and you die.

Sincerely and wholeheartedly,

K.

TL; DR: Got a kid suspended for imaginary bullying.

Brakes can't stop me

I haven't posted anything in about a week. Here is part of the story about why. I would like to start off by apologizing for leaving you bored and unsatisfied, but worry not I am back to satiate your boredom.

My girlfriend and I decided to drive down to California to see her family for thanksgiving. For those of you who don't know, this requires driving over some mountains. Now the Siskiyous mountains are hardly difficult to drive through. There's some up and there's some down, as long as your brakes work no problem.

However, brakes were in fact my problem. I'd noticed that I had to brake harder than usual to stop my car and keep it stopped so I wanted to get them checked our before driving 1,000 miles. I take my car over a mechanic recommended to me by my room-mate. He has a look at my brakes and says that there's fluid on them indicating a small leak and that I need to replace my rear brake cylinders. He gives me a quote for $300, I can't afford this.

Now, I know next to nothing about cars, so I ask him how urgent it is that I take care of this as I'm driving to California the next day. He says just get it fixed in the next few months but that he wouldn't drive over the mountains before taking care of it. Unfortunately this is right around closing time so there's no way he can get to it that day. He wouldn't be able to get to it until Wednesday and I need it done by Tuesday morning. So I run over to good ol' Les Schwab before they close and ask them if they'd be able to get it done by mid morning. They say yes and for only $200,I have an appointment for 9 am.

Things are good, I continue about getting ready to go and take my car in when the time comes. The man says they'll pull it in right away, excellent. My girlfriend and I go to the store to buy some food so we don't have to stop too much while driving. I go back to see how the car is coming along around 10:15 and they haven't even pulled my car into the bay yet. Great we aren't gonna get to her parent's until midnight. I talk to the guy and he apologizes and I watch them pull it into the bay.

A short time passes and he comes back and says that they found nothing wrong with my brakes or brake cylinders but they'll do one more check since I did notice the braking issue. It's probable that I'll just need them to flush and fill my brake fluid and that it'll be fifty dollars. Wonderful, things are getting better. Ten minutes later he says the rear brakes just need an adjustment and that I am good to go for twenty dollars.

My brakes felt much better after that and I was feeling good about it. Fast forward to driving down the mountains. We're coming up to a corner that says 45 MPH, the cars in front of me are slowing down for the curve so I press on my brake pedal. And believe it or not, the car slows down beautifully.

Confidently and Honestly,

D.

TL; DR: Got a $20 brake job just before driving over mountains and they didn't stop me.

Grand Papa Raymond

PART I

“And I got this black suit on, rolling around like I’m ready for a funeral.”

-Frank Ocean’s ‘Swim Good’

I don’t remember what I wore at my grandfather’s funeral. Definitely not a suit. Probably a T-shirt and some winter boots. And pants, obviously. You’d have to be really depraved to go to a funeral without pants.

My grandfather’s name was Raymond. Well, technically, that’s not true. His actual name--along with my dad, five uncles and every other catholic male in Saint-Paul, AB at the time--was Joseph. Raymond was just one of his many middle names. But, in a town full of Josephs and Maries, I guess calling people by their middle names was the only way to keep insanity at bay.

I think my grandfather was born somewhere in Quebec, where he got married to my grandmother, Gertrude (Marie, actually, but…you know). They had their first kid (Joseph) there, before moving out to Saint-Isidore, and finally settling down in Saint-Paul. My grandfather was in construction. He wore one of the white hats. Big shot. He was a skilled carpenter too, as a considerable number of handcrafted wooden items displayed in family homes will prove. Apparently, he had trouble with alcohol, and my grandmother hated seeing him tear himself apart like this so bad that she wouldn’t live with him for the better part of his last year here.

But this is all second-hand information: things either mentioned or overheard at tables at family reunions over the years and carefully assembled into a vague, incomplete and pretty useless jigsaw. A jigsaw which I feel my grandmother has little interest in approaching, let alone clarifying. So, here’s the real question: what do I personally remember about my grandfather? Well, aside from a lingering impression of a time he came to Edmonton to help my dad re-paint our house’s siding, I remember his funeral. I guess that’s kind of blunt. But at least it’s honest.

November 11, 2000: News reached my parents that my paternal grandfather had just passed. My mother was pretty pregnant with my younger sister--any day now--when the call came down the line, so, when our forest-green minivan hit the road for Saint-Paul to attend my grandfather’s funeral, it was only my dad (Joseph 5.0 (or 6.0, depending on who you ask (he has a twin))), my sister and myself on board, meaning my dad would have to deal with both driving and discipline all by himself. Lucky for him, my older sister and I got along pretty good, even at the ages of seven and five, respectively. In fact, the only form of ‘discipline’ my parents ever had to use on road trips at the time was essentially bribery: in exchange for a stuffed animal or some other small gift, we’d keep busy and quiet. But this time around, my mother wasn’t involved in the selection of offerings that would be presented to her children.

About halfway through our trip, as my sister and I slowly became increasingly restless, my dad motioned towards a plastic bag on the van floor, indicating it was okay to open it. We’d already guessed this was where our presents were, but we had been awaiting a signal to find out what was inside. Looking back, I kind of wish our gift would’ve made sense. Something sentimental or touching would’ve been nice. Ultimately, I guess I just wish it had at the very least not been something aggressively incomprehensible. But, the way it goes, aggressively incomprehensible is exactly what we got.

Inside the bag were two Star Wars action figures, which really isn’t that bad. What’s bad is that they happened to not only be twin Jabba the Hutts, the obese space slug, but twin Jabba the Hutts, the obese space slug equipped with a tub of translucent lime-green slime which could be squeezed from their mouths to mimic vomiting. One for my sister, one for me. I don’t think there are any scenarios in which a vomit-Jabba would be an appropriately sentimental gift, but using it as a “behave-during-the-funeral, son” gift is definitely at the other end of the spectrum.

As we rolled around, Jabbas in hand, we were unequivocally not ready for a funeral.

Not that it mattered. Nothing would stop us from paying our final respects to the man who conceived the man who conceived me…

To be continued in Part II: A Tale of Cousins and Corpses, in which we are set to examine the full extent of the misbehavior that took place at the funeral parlor.

The Dude Abides,

S

TL; DR: Dead grandpa, yabish/ Vomit-Jabba, yabish

Chess: Modern Warfare

A friend of mine is going to be writing tomorrow's post, so I decided it would be fitting to post a game me and him thought of back in ninth grade. Here you go:

Played on a chess board with all the chess pieces.

Pawn: This piece can move one in front OR shoot 2 squares in front of it.

Rook: This piece can move up to an entire row, non-diagonally, and when it kills another piece, it takes the peace directly behind it as well.

Knight: This piece can move in an L shape of four spaces OR throw a grenade, up to three spaces, that explodes in a square made up of four squares.

Bishop: Can move any length diagonally. If he dies, flip a coin. Heads, he remains dead, tails he lives. If he gets attacked by the rook and survives, the unit behind him also survives.

King: He can move one square in any direction.

Queen: Can move in any direction OR fire a bullet in two diagonal directions.

It is impossible to shoot with less range than indicated.

It is impossible to throw a grenade over people.

Sincerely and wholeheartedly,

K.

Motivational Speaker?

I decided I wanted to try to write a "motivational" speech for some reason. Here goes nothing.

Greetings fellow humans!

I've decided to take this presentation to talk about a kind of identity crisis I went through a few years back. 

Just for a bit of background information, I lived in a small town in New-Brunswick at the time with a populace of around 8,000 people. I didn't fit in, not even in the slightest. Everybody was really into cars, motorcycles, fishing and hunting. I was more of the video game kind of guy. And even with the difference of hobbies, I just wasn't an interesting person at all. I wasn't funny, popular, creative or interesting in any way, really. On top of all that, I was an extremely shy person who didn't like to take risks. That was just basically who I was for the first, oh I don’t know, 11-12 years of my life? I had always accepted this as who I was, because, well, it was who I was. But I was never satisfied. I felt like I could be more than just “that guy”, I guess. About half way through the year I thought of an excellent idea. That I would stop being just… that guy. Or, at least attempt to. Not immediately, but the upcoming summer. So for about 4 months I couldn't stop thinking about things I would do that summer. It was this magical idea, and being a procrastinator, I was actually thinking in the back of my mind that I wasn't going to go through with it. But when school ended, for the first time in a very long time I felt motivated to do this thing I had the idea of doing. Thus spawned the most productive summer of my life.

(On whiteboard, write Yo-Yo, juggling, Rubik's cube and Tae Kwan Do)

I had plans, and I set those plans up right away. The first plan of action was to learn the basics of magic. I had a deck of cards, and I just taught myself magic with online videos, but mostly just books. [Quick demonstration of simple magic trick]. I actually still have, at my dad’s house in New-Brunswick, a deck with hundreds of signatures of people I performed tricks for. On top of that, I learned the Rubik’s cube, because when I was a kid people who could do that were like the greatest ever. I could complete it in 1min20secs. What goes well with magic and the Rubik’s cube? Why juggling and the Yo-Yo, of course. Juggling was much easier to learn than I thought it would be and the opposite for the Yo-Yo. I learned to do a bunch of high level tricks and even taught myself two tricks that involved 2 at once. That summer, on top of all that, I was able to convince my dad to put me in a Tae Kwan Do class.

So what, right? Now, instead of a boring guy with not much going for him, I was a boring guy with not much going for him who knew a few party tricks. I may not have known it at the time, but it wasn't the actual thing that I was learning that was important, it was the process of learning it and applying it to the real world. To be honest, the best thing for me that summer, by far, was magic. Before that summer I was the shyest person ever. I was terrified of being the center of a crowd. And to this day, every sign of confidence you see from me is essentially a stage act. But performing magic in front of random people every time made me learn to have, or try to have, a vibrant personality and to learn social queues. And from that, a sense of humor, of which I had no idea existed, emerged. Everything about that summer was just fantastic, except for the fact that it flew by like nobody’s business.

(Write control for yoyo- balance for juggling – self-reliance for tae kwan do – analysis for Rubik’s cube)

All of that shpeal to basically say this:

I was young and decided to have one productive summer. Two months of not being lazy. And through that, I taught myself so many great lessons. Control. Balance. Self-reliance. Analyzing situations. And mostly, I gained a personality. (hold cards in fan)  But life has a lot less tricks and mirrors than magic (turn cards towards audience, so they see each card). The options are clear, no illusions. It’s up to you to make the first step. So, I ask again, pick a card, any card.

Sincerely and wholeheartedly,

K,

TL; DR: One summer is all it takes to change person's life. Get on it.

Computers and Kids

Computers and children are basically the same thing. If at first you think that's ridiculous then you're in the right place, sit down, grab a cup and have a read at this.

Let's look at what a computer basically does. It provides you entertainment, easy access to information, and can assist you when performing some basic tasks. For example your computer can quickly do math, spreadsheets, word processing, and even your taxes.

What does the computer ask for in a return? You provide it with electricity to run. You keep it sheltered out of rain, snow, blistering heat, and freezing cold. You clean the computer to keep it in good condition. You have to keep the computer's software updated so that it doesn't become susceptible to attacks or incompatibility. Finally you spend time with the computer, because without you it's pretty much useless and dead.

So, what does a child do? They're fun to play with. They bombard you with questions and information. They know just about everything when they become teenagers. They do tasks that you would normally have to do yourself. A simple example of this is mowing the lawn, cleaning the house or car, and raking leaves.

What does this child need? Children often require some form of nourishment, generally in the form of food and water. They need a home to keep warm in the winter and cool in the summer. They have to have the most recent clothes and/or toys so they don't get made fun of by their friends. And of course children need their parents to be present in their lives so that they don't have major emotional issues.

Those lists of uses and needs look similar to me. They both make your life easier by assisting you with chores, they both are fun, and they both suck money out of you to keep them going.

As you can clearly see here children and computers are essentially the same. The only difference is that one will you annoy you with constantly needing something new, while the other is a small human.

Confidently and Honestly,

D.

TL; DR: Always use a condom so you don't get stuck with an annoying laptop.

So deep. Much wow. Very amaze.

     Today, I thought it would be a great time to show you all a poem I wrote a while back when I thought I was real deep. Enjoy.

I recently watched a movie that got me thinking; if everything were to be taken away from me... What would I miss?

The two obvious things would be friends (some more than others) and family. But then I started thinking about other stuff I'd miss:

The joy in peoples faces when you praise them for something worth praising them for and the sadness in their face when you tell them something they need to hear,

The ability to walk,

The act of making a simple decision and the ability to make life changing ones weather they are good for obvious reasons or bad (by choice) for reasons only you understand,

Helping people reach their goals when nobody else does,

Being able to feel and touch things,

Being able to write poetry,

Laughter,

The feeling you get when you look into the eyes of the one you love even if they don't feel the same way,

Being able to imagine,

Reaching out to God when something happens and thanking him when nothing does, Disobeying orders,

Learning,

Being independent,

Crying behind closed doors,

Watching the sunset,

Being able to say no when you've had enough and being able to say yes when you want more,

Listening to music when you're bored, really happy or extremely sad,

Thinking of ways to improve something and doing nothing about it,

Insulting people when they know it's a joke and re-assuring people that it is if they don't,

Helping someone through a tough break-up,

Spending hours of research on a subject nobody will ever bring up because they think it's lame for the simple reason that is; you like it,

Wishing you had the courage to do something,

Having the courage to do something you've always wanted to do,

Laugh at bad actors and admiring the good ones,

The first bite of a really good meal,

Spending bonding time with family,

Talking to a friend after a while of no contact with them,

The incompetence you have in a certain subject,

Being able to dream,

The power of discussion,

Having the capability of taking pictures to remember something you'd probably forget in a week without

And there is much, much more.

The little things DO count.

 

     

     Sincerely and wholeheartedly,

     K.

     TL; DR: Be thankful for shit.

The Fighter, Part 1

I'm sitting in a small cell. Sunlight shines through the window near the ceiling and hits the bed I'm laying on. I enjoy the warmth of the sun on my legs. I close my eyes with my head resting on my hands as I lie on my back. I hear the sound of a crowd outside, people coming to pack out the arena stands. The sound of thousands placing bets on who will win. Everyone knows who will win, but people love an underdog.

I doze off briefly before the sound of my cell door unlocking rouses me. The sounds of the crowd are no longer coming through my window, instead I hear the muffled noise from directly above me. I sit up on the bed. The door swings open and the guard signals for me to move. They walk me into the armory. My armor is waiting on the table. It is made to cover every inch of the body, I don't like being closed in like that. I only use the chest, wrist, and waist pieces.

I begin assigning the armor to my boy.

“Louder than usual today.” I mention to the guard

“We've got a special visitor today.” he replies

I give an acknowledging grunt and continue with my equipment. The pieces are beaten and scratched but sturdy. It's made from a metal only found on this planet, it's light but strong, it's the primary export of the world. Some say it's unfair for me to get such superior equipment, I say that I earned the right to have it.

“You'll want to use a weapon today.” One of the guards states

“Weapons slow me down.”

“Stubborn as usual.”

I give a knowing smile, he responds in kind. I begin walking up the steps to the stadium gate. The announcer is introducing my opponents, I don't catch their names or where they're from. They always make things sound so exciting, must appeal to the low intelligence crowd.

I wait inside the gate for my introduction. Personally I wish we could skip the formalities, but this is all for the crowd. The gate opens as my name is screamed over the speakers. I begin walking towards the center, the crowd roars approvingly as they always do. Five opponents today, shouldn't take too long.

I reach the very center of the arena as my opponents encircle me at a distance. I go down to my knee and grab dirt into my hand. I raise it to my face, take a sniff, and then sift it through my fingers. Mostly gravel, no sand, some various kinds of dirt. Mercenaries from Ektai. I return to my feet and adjust my stance, I'll need to stay light on feet to minimize their predictions.

I look up to the VIP box where the emperor is sitting, next to him is our special guest. Maxwell Auren of Corleeria. I look directly at him and loudly speak to my opponents.

“I want you to know, you have my permission to die.”

My brother understands why I glare at him as I speak.

TO BE CONTINUED

Confidently and Honestly,

D.

TL; DR: It's a story, you should read it. Seriously.

Winter

     Oh, Winter. The symbol of purity and beauty of a thousand puppies. Every morning, for the next six or seven months, I shall wake up to you, walk in you and live in you. Now, stop being a little bitch and we can get along.

     I live in Canada. It's currently November 13 and it is -23°C outside and snowing.

     This weather generally required a hefty winter jacket, some gloves, a sexy hat, a scarf and some underlining for your pants. The problem with all that is that I spend most of my time inside the University. The lining in the pants get unbearably hot, the scarf, gloves are just annoyances and the jacket itself is so big and bulky you slap whoever is around you at time you take it off. Pair all of that with me having a small, rather full locker and you get one of the reasons I hate winter.

     I come from a small town in eastern Canada where all people talk about is cars, motorcycles and snowboarding on this little mountain during the winter. I did none of these things. In a way, it was kind of a good thing. It meant that my friends were not asking me to do things with them in the awful outside weather.

     Have you ever experienced cold so cold that you have a difficult time breathing? It generally happens around minus forty-five degree weather. I had to wait for my school bus in that weather for about 25 minutes because he was late. I swear I was a few minutes from getting frostbite on my toes or something. When I go outside, I don't want to feel like I'm deep-throating Frosty the Snowman's carrot, that's all I'm saying.

     

     Sincerely and wholeheartedly,

     K.

     TL; DR: I wish winter had feelings so that when I peed on her, she felt bad.

     

TV Crap

I'd like to take a moment to talk about how ridiculous some advertising has gotten.

Now I'm okay with advertisements on web pages and videos. Ads are the primary method that allows web content to be free for everyone. I much prefer to watch a few ads than to have to pay for my entertainment. I'm also okay with some content being ad free if you pay for it.

Now that we've gotten that statement out of the way I'm going to tell you a story. A story about how ads made me stop watching the only network show I kept up with. The Big Bang Theory was a good show in its early seasons but it got a little boring and repetitive as it went on. I still watched it as I was interested in the overarching storyline going on, I liked the characters.

Normally I watched the show on cbs.com as the episodes came out, thanks to handy dandy adblock I didn't have to watch ads. But this particular time the website was being stubborn and getting upset about ad block, normally I could flip ad block on and off at the time right times and get around this issue. But this time it wasn't having any of it. Finally I decided that I would just watch the ads.

I was expecting 3, maybe 4 ads, but nooooooo. 10 ads into the first ad break and there was no end in sight. I was done. The show isn't that good. No show is worth five minutes of ads every seven minutes. I'll stick with youtube thank you very much. CBS, how about you make content that's actually worth paying for rather than trying to screw me with advertisement crap wrapped in the slightly scented condom that is your TV shows. CBS you can take your ads and shove them up your own ass. I'll stick to content producers that actually care about pleasing their audience rather than just making a pay check out of them.

Confidently and Honestly,

D.

TL; DR: Received surprise butt sex because adblock wasn't working.

First Girlfriend

     In response to my friend’s third grade crush, I’d like to take this post to talk about my first girlfriend in the same grade.

     Life was not a complicated one for me in 2003. School was really easy, friends came flying, I was the best at hacky sack in my school and I single-handedly started the “puffing on pine trees and pretend it makes you high” movement, which later translated to a school-wide ban on breaking pine tree branches off. I know, I was a bad ass.

     I mainly hung out with two other friends at the time, and all three of us got girlfriends in about a week or two span from each other. It was really weird, but it worked out because everyone was friends that way. Another oddity was that we each got our girlfriend a different way. One got asked out by his girlfriend, the other asked his and then there was me. I was a relatively shy human at the time, I would have never had the courage to ask a girl out unless I really REALLY knew she liked me.

     Recess time, everybody’s playing. Me and my friends are playing soccer, I believe, and in comes my soon-to-be girlfriend’s best friend yelling “K. K. She likes you! She likes you!” Me, not knowing how to take it simply smiled and they quickly ran away. I talked with my two buddies about it and they gave me the confidence to go for it.

     Recess is now over, and I’m sitting right next to her in class. The conversation basically goes as such:

“So, that was why you liked sitting next to me, hm?”

“Yes” she said, shyly

“Well, I really like you too… Do you want to go out with me?”

“Sure”.

     That conversation makes your loins burn of intensity, does it not? Well, that relationship lasted relatively long for a third grade relationship. I remember getting her a flower, a card with a bunch of little sticker hearts on it and I wrote her a poem, all for Valentine’s Day.  The poem was such a hit that one of my friend’s girlfriends was jealous and he asked me to write one for her. And I totally did. And she fucking loved it. Now, another thing I got her before it all ended was a simple teddy bear that I got for her birthday, of which I was the only guy invited, which she still has to this day! Or at least, she did the last time I spoke to her like… 4 years ago.

     Our girlfriend-boyfriend’ness ended for a ridiculously stupid reason. I was too shy to hold her hand. Can you believe it? I mean, it obviously didn't matter, it was third grade, but how dumb of me to not just suck it up.

    Cut to 2014, she’s a singer and a model, I believe. What can I say? I know how to pick ‘em.

     Sincerely and wholeheartedly,

     K.

TL; DR: Do enough hacky sack and smoke some pine trees as a child and you’ll get all the babes, guaranteed.

The First Girl

Ah to be young. When the days are long and the food is free.

Growing up as a boy the most confusing thing in life was girls. They didn't make any sense to me. I didn't understand them and I couldn't talk to them the way I talked to guys. Though mostly I just didn't notice girls, I only remember 2 girls existing before I got to jr. high. One of them I remember because she was really tall, the other was my first crush.

It's important to note that I was home schooled until eighth grade. Being stuck at home doing school work doesn't give a young boy much time to fraternize with the lady folk. Luckily my mom knew the importance of fraternizing for young children so we were part of a home school group that had class every Wednesday morning.

Third grade, it was a science class. Nothing fancy just basic earth science stuff. But that's not important, the important thing is that there was a girl in this class. I'm sure there was more than one girl in the class but I only remember this one. For the sake of the story I'll call her Magenta. Not that I like the name but because it's the color of a crayon.

Honestly I don't remember, in the slightest, what she looked like. I think she had light brown hair, but it could have been blonde or black, I can't seem to recall. Once again this is unimportant. What is relevant is what she did to me. If I tried to talk to her, words didn't come out of my mouth. Just syllables and sounds really. Naturally, third grade me did the only logical thing, nothing.

I ignored her and she slipped out of my life after third grade. All that's left is a memory of a girl whom I found so intimidatingly attractive that I stuttered like a car struggling to start. For those of you who don't know I have a stuttering problem, this is probably when it started. Which means I have wonderful Magenta to thank for my speaking issues. Thanks for ruining any chance I had at public speaking Magenta. May you melt in the sun on a hot road.

Confidently and Honestly,

D.

TL; DR: Fell in love with a crayon and haven't been able to speak since.

Worst. Ending. Ever.

     Spoiler alert: Kaboom had the worst ending of any movie I've ever seen in my life.

     I consider myself an avid moviegoer. That being said, what the fuck Gregg Araki? Granted, I will give Kaboom credit, I honestly don't think this movie took itself seriously at all. Okay, story time:

     Kaboom would be best categorized as a cult comedy, in my opinion. There's a lot of sex, masks, dreams and investigating.

     The story follows a bisexual main character, Smith, who wants very badly to have sex with his very straight roommate, Thor. On top of this, his lesbian best friend, Stella, is a very cynical, not very likable person who is sexually involved with an avid black magic believer. All whilst this is going on, Smith meets a British lady named London, who is very open about her sex life and engages in the act with Smith a few times.

     That, at least in the first half of the movie, is the main plot ... In that, there isn't much (unless you count sex as plot, in that case there's plenty). But, if you're the type of person who can endure that, you can see real potential with this movie. The writing is pretty damn witty (dare I say even good), the acting by both Thomas Dekker (Smith) and Juno Temple (London) was excellent and the director's choice in keeping the actors very neutral, whether they were having sex or getting chased gave the movie a certain je ne sais quoi.

     The second half of the movie is where the plot thickens, if you will. Smith has been having these dreams that he believes are clues to a murder that happened on campus. Naturally, he begins to investigate. A certain few people don't seem to like this one bit, as he starts getting followed by people in animal masks and guns.

     As the main cast, all in a van, drive off on a highway to escape the men with animal masks following them, the movie suddenly cuts to a character we have never seen before. He is sitting down in a room with pure white walls and the only thing in front of him is a red button. He presses it. The Earth blows up. The end.

     Never have I been so unsatisfied with a movie’s ending. And I’ve seen some pretty bad endings.

     So again, I ask: What the fuck Gregg Araki?

     Sincerely and wholeheartedly,

     K.

     TL; DR: Always wear protection when having sex, or else the world might explode.

Flammable Water

Water is very interesting in that it both stops and starts fires.

DISCLAIMER: I in no way guarantee any amount of scientific accuracy in the following paragraphs. 

Now I know that may sound ridiculous; water is used to put out fires. Period. That's why there are fire hydrants everywhere that supply massive amounts of water. Firefighters use it to, well, fight fires. And this is true, water puts out fires. If you get a fire wet it will go out, with a few exceptions (See: grease fire).

I'm talking about on a chemical elemental level. Water is hydrogen and oxygen  (and several other things that I'll get into). Oxygen is necessary for fire on earth, pushing oxygen into a fire makes the fire grow stronger. Hydrogen is also extremely flammable and easily combustible. The most notable burning of hydrogen is the sun.

Okay fine, the sun isn't actually on fire, and water would not in any way put out the sun. However, the sun does produce a huge amount of energy in the form of heat. There is a reason uninformed peasants often think the sun is a ball of fire. Because, well, it acts like one.

Now that we've gotten the mundane out of the way, let's look at what exactly is in our water. Tap water in the United States commonly contains calcium, magnesium, sodium, copper, and zinc in addition to the hydrogen and oxygen. These are all completely safe to consume when mixed in the concentrations that appear in tap water. In fact, all of these are required in some amount to remain healthy. However, pure sodium, copper, zinc and oxygen are each individually toxic and can kill you.

So where does all of this leave us?

All of these elements are essential to life. And it is essential that they are mixed in with your H2O because pure H2O will also cause harm. Which means that we have all of these elements that individually are dangerous and will catch fire, and yet when they're all mixed together they are able to put out fires.

Now, you're probably wondering what my point is in all of this. I suppose it's about time I got to my point.

It's November, it's cold outside, if you're in the southern hemisphere you don't count. You have a fire going in the fireplace, tea or hot chocolate in a mug, and you're browsing the internet while sitting on your couch underneath a soft blanket. Your labradoodle Schmitty is laying next to you, he looks very comfortable doesn't he. He decides to get up and take his weekly stroll through the lit fireplace. Usually you get your bucket of water that you keep handy and dump it on him. But now you know that water is flammable and contains the primary source of heat in our solar system.

Is dumping water on poor burning Schmitty still the best thing to do? The answer is yes, it is of the utmost importance that you cover him in toxic flammable chemicals to save his life.

So please, by all means, continue using these toxic and flammable matericals to put out the many fires that occur in your life.

 Confidently and Honestly,

D.

 TL; DR: The next time your labradoodle bursts into flames dump flammable and toxic chemicals on him.

The Girl Next Door, Part 1

     Blonde hair, blue eyes. Essentially what dreams are made of.

     We have a class together twice a week. We didn't talk much at first, but I’m just that kind of person, I guess.

     One day, after class, I get invited for a drink by a classmate. Let me preface this by saying that I absolutely hate the taste of alcohol. It’s disgusting and on top of that, it takes a lot for me to actually get tipsy (which, in bar terms, translates into a lot of money). As a rather anti-social person who thought this whole thing would be boring and a waste of time, I took the chance because the three people I knew were pretty chill. The soft core drama started that very first night. For anonymity purposes, let's number the people that night 1-5. Three, being me and four, the main character in this particular story. The cycle of “like”, from the get-go, went (loosely) as such: 1→2→3→4↔5. Five was not a part of our class. He’s a high school friend to the beauty that is four.

     As it turned out, the night was really fun. This turned into a one-two times a week thing between the five of us.

     Every time we go out, I am more and more attracted to this woman. She is both the furthest and simultaneously the closest thing to perfection I've ever seen. And I mean that in the absolute best way possible. She is the epitome of beauty, uniqueness comparable to a platypus (weird, dorky reference much?), insanely intelligent and incredibly (alliterations, for the win) kindhearted. The list goes on and on, but simply put: she would be a hyperbolic comparison to Aphrodite.

     At this point, lady quatro is more or less “dating” five, which I’m completely fine with. Five is a really cool and nice guy. In a perfect (me-centered) world, I would wish the very second best for him.

     Have you ever had that moment when you look at your watch and suddenly time feels like it’s slowing down because you’re aware of it? I find myself doing that on purpose whenever we hang out, to live in that moment a little longer. It’s weird, I will admit, but that’s me. 

     Do I love her? Probably not. I haven't known her long enough to. I have a feeling I know very little about her and I also don’t mind just being friends in the slightest. All I wish upon her is happiness, which I sincerely hope she has found through some of the problems she’s had. But that may be pushing the envelope, as far as assumptions go. Madame quatre is moving to her home town next semester. It sucks, looking at it through my kaleidoscope version of a perspective on the matter, but I think I get it.

     To conclude, the reason I parted this story into two isn't because I have withheld information, it’s simply because I can’t predict the future. Weather part two will be positive, negative, or just more of the same... Well, I guess only time will tell.

     Sincerely and wholeheartedly,

     K.

     TL; DR: I think I’m in love with a sexy platypus.