jimsensei
I find it ironic that one of the most-used teaching utilities is completely bland. Learning should be exciting, shouldn't it? When I was five years old, the last thing I'd want to do is stare at an all-black board with some white scribbles.
The only goal I have in this life, is to leave behind plenty of torches for the future to carry for me.
There is this one guy I know, looks good except for this lumping mole on the side of his head. He works out all the time, maintains a great build, spends sixty hours at his job, but the guy won't get this ugly mole removed. You'd think he would expend some of that energy on getting that ugly thing froze off.
I'm curious as to what country came up with the idea of French toast, because it sure as hell wasn't the French.
My mind just doesn't work like it use to. As a kid, you tend to remember all the good, all the bad; everything. Now as an adult, the good isn't so good, and the bad happens more often. You become more and more numb to life's troubles, to the point where you're not longer storing them inside your still tiny brain anymore.
What the hell is a waver? Some sort of overtly nice guy? Let me tell you something; never, in my life, would I consider being friends with someone who considered them self a waver. I'm sure the definition in the dictionary is completely different from my own, but forget the formalities, I hate nice people!
I was sitting in a trailer one afternoon, smoking a cigarette, working on a paper of sorts. Now, I'm not sure how many of you are smokers out there, but I am sure you all know that smoking, for some odd reason, is a mark a "cool". If such were the truth, we wouldn't associate white trash with trailers.
I'm pretty sure my life, at this point, is nothing more than an intersection. I've got my eyes' on several very beneficial careers; acting, directing, designing, and naturally, drinking. This weekend, after blacking out, laying on a bed for five hours shivering and vomiting, I've come to the conclusion that those former careers might be a tad more up my alley than, say, the Beer Olympics.
Oh great. What's going on? Why does my stomach hurt? What's this sharp pain between my legs? It's throbbing. Feels like it's coming from within my stomach. No, a little lower. It's at the tip of this strange, phallic object that is dangling between my legs. It's moving, clinching! Great, now I'm covered in some strange yellow substance. Time to use the bathroom, whatever the hell that is.
writing since 2011 · 9 entries · 9 days shown up
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