Archive Expansion Pack

Presenting the Quick Contentless Post™

Does your blog not update often enough? Do you feel like you're slacking off? Do you like seeing arbitrary numbers increase in value? But you don't have the time or creative flow for an actual blog post? You don't feel like putting forth effort?

881™ presents the Quick Contentless Post™, an easy solution to sloth and laziness. With it you can... write more bs.

End of entry. Pic unrelated.

Expanding Vocabulary (+Story!)

"Should I feel fine and dandy about being called 'dainty'?"
"How in the seven seas do I extrapolate something?"
"Does redress literally mean dress again?"

These are some questions you might ask yourself on a day-to-day basis. They're actually not, most likely. But they are questions I came up with today using some words I found out the meanings of today. Let me teach you them. Also, there's a short story at the end.

Ever since I've seen the video Let Me Borrow That Top by Liam Kyle Sullivan, I've liked using the word extrapolate. I've liked using it wrong, actually, but still. I've always imagined extrapolate meant explain in detail, or clear up, as based on the video there. I suppose using images, my idea of extrapolation looked something like this:

It all makes sense now!

In reality, to extrapolate is to "Extend the application of (a method or conclusion, esp. one based on statistics) to an unknown situation by assuming that existing trends will continue or similar methods will be applicable." I think a clear example should tell you all you need to know:

If I have 3 things tomorrow and I have 8 things the day after tomorrow, then by geometric sequences and extrapolation I'll have 21 1/3 things by the third day!

Now that that's out of the way and clearly understood, let's move on to the next word. This word would be redress. Redress looks like it's supposed to mean dress again. As in change dresses I guess. According to the ever-helpful dictionary.com, redress does in fact mean to dress again.

Success!

Redress can also, however, mean to correct, remedy, etc. That's really all I have to say about it.

My friend got called dainty today and she seemed appalled. I wondered why, so I asked her what dainty meant. She said it meant fragile and delicate. This fits the dictionary definition and so I have learned a new word. I don't know when the hell I'd use the word dainty to describe anything instead of other, less obscure words (e.g. fragile and delicate), but I'm sure glad I know it. Some vocabulary teacher somewhere is smiling and getting a halfie.

My last word is... I have no last word. It was really just those three. BUT. I did get asked for a few random words today, so I said colloquialism, pendulum, and hegemon. Two other cool words are somewhat and megalomaniac.

So is NIHILISM.

So as to that story I promised you, here we go: Yesterday I got handcuffed for the first time in my life. That lasted maybe 10 minutes, but it was still bloody exciting. What happened is apart from feeding a goose, my two friends and I were having a pretty ordinary, uneventful day. We decided to pull some crazy antics and climb unto a fire escape, then proceed to follow that fire escape to the top of a building. On top of this building, maybe 15 feet or so up was the platform of a billboard, with the billboard there as well. My friend and I decided to climb on this too, with the other fellow being too scared of heights.

The thing about billboards is they're meant to be seen from the street, whether by drivers or pedestrians or police on patrol. As my friend and I took turns flicking eachother off in front of a giant Cricket advertisement, little did we know that some police on patrol had in fact been informed of the benefits of Cricket, as well as that there were some hooligans on the roof of this building.

As I was getting down I look at my friend who had not climbed with us. He was just sitting down. I got halfway down some slanted rusty metal pole thing when I looked at my friend again. What I saw instead was him on his knees handcuffed and a police officer coming towards the two of us on the board. As I was unarmed and not yelling about being caught, the officer kindly helped me down then handcuffed me. They made us all sit together as they searched our pockets, then the two backpacks we had with us.

One officer climbed on the billboard and asked us where the tag was. We said we weren't tagging, which was the truth. They asked us why we were up there and we told them we needed something to do. They rhetorically asked "what the fuck" a few times. They asked us where we were from and we were all from adjacent or semi-adjacent (adjacent to adjacent) neighborhoods so they were like "oh, at least you're not some fuckers from... Michigan". I thought they were gonna say Detroit, so I was basically right.

After disbelieving me about my age (due to my awesome beard), they uncuffed us and followed us down the building. They told us to not be stupid and wrote down our names and addresses for their reports because they had to and wanted to increase their numbers or whatever (that's what they said). We decided that made our day infinitely better.

The end.

So Far So Superfantastic

I nearly forgot about this blog, like I said I would. But I didn't. Here I am. Typing more words for the masses (i.e. me) to read (I use i.e. because I AM the masses, not an example of the masses. So you (I) can't say that I don't know the difference between i.e. and e.g. I also took Latin for a few years, so suck my educated dick). I don't really have anything to type about, I just want to update this thing.

This'll make sense by the third paragraph

I guess I can give you a brief summary of my summer. Now, I could do a day-by-day thing, but there are now too many days and it would take me a very long time as all my days are incredibly happening-ful and stocked with things to write about. I could give you a general idea of what I've been doing, such as hanging out with friends and... that's about it really. I could tell you the mood I've generally been in, which is supramoderate happiness. But I'm not gonna tell you any of those things (oh ho ho, aren't I clever?).

I swear his shirt says 'gay' (making this picture an oxymoron)

No, instead I'm going to define my entire summer up to this point by one word: superfantastic. You might be wondering what on Earth superfantastic means (Firefox doesn't put a red line under it, so apparently it's a word). In case you are, and consequently in case you're retarded, it means fantastic to the point of being super and awesome and superfantastic. If you're wondering what something superfantastic looks like, I've littered this post with search results of "superfantastic" in Google images.

Now I get it!

Some of the more interesting things I've done this summer (woah woah, what the hell am I doing!? I thought I was gonna leave it at superfantastic. WELL I WAS WRONG) include a 4th of July camping trip with my friends. Each night was too long thanks to a fellow I know named Cristian. Cristian is a very intriguing person, with a whole lot of things to say. Awesomely, unlike some people with a lot to say, he knows what he's saying. But he never ever stops saying them. Even at 4am. This is all fine though, as then we get to sleep until 11. So going to sleep at 7am (I never said 4 was the deadline) gives us an amazing 4 hours of sleep.

Fucking incredible

The most interesting night, however, was the last one. The five of us dudes (for there WERE, in fact, five of us) were at first on a mission to get bud. We figured the night of 4th of July (or, I suppose, morning of the 5th) could only be completed by a lack of straight thinking. We almost got it from one fellow who called his cousin for us, but almost was not close enough. We managed to sit at a playground in the camp site in the darkest hours of the night and feel very statisfied. Now it gets interesting. As we returned to camp, I decided to walk around one last time to seek the greens. I found none, but as I was coming back to camp yet again, I felt very night-stalkerish and ninja-skilled. Read on to find out what shenanigans I did (I promise you might possibly be entertained or jealous).

A superfantastic intermission. Also, America.

I took off my conveniently take-offable flip flops, and stalked through the rain-wet grass. Coming up to my friends from behind a car, I felt the need to crawl underneath it and listen in on their conversation like a crazy spy or something. Which is exactly what I did. For an hour. You see, I've always wanted to see what my friends looked like when they talked from a third-person angle. And see that I did. Unfortunately, it was pretty much exactly like it was with me there, just without me there. They made fun of the German Fred, they talked about a few movies (Cast Away, The Road, The Mist), and they mentioned that they missed me. D'aww. I was hoping to discover their whacky opinions about me, but I guess they just miss me like good friends. And also holy shit it's 8 already.

Apparently 20% of superfantasy is tomatoes.

Having decided I was probably off getting high or raped or both, they went away to walk around and maybe look for me. I naturally followed. Using my advanced night stalking skills, I sneaked up on them. They were all very happy to see me, except looking annoyed. Soon, Cristian, the little mind-fucker, announced he has a bad vibe about me. As if I wasn't myself. Feeding off his fake fear, and the others' real fear, I started repeating to them their exact words. Oh boy were they freaked out. I started walking after them eeriely (for they were moving away from me slowly) and repeating more and more quotes. One, Alec, my best friend, lingered for a few seconds and we were alone. I dramatically/horrifically told him "you know, it's funny, we survived the weekend together. Any other guys would've pissed me off", which Cristian had told them in their assumed privacy. It was a very appropriate thing to say, as I seemed like a psychotic about to kill him.

The Seventh Superfantastic Wonder

As we came up to one of those campground public bathrooms, Cristian gleefully noted that the yellow lighting inside matches the death lighting in some horror films. This added to the effect, and everybody split up. I followed Fred into the bathroom, slowly stumbling in yelling "what happens when the mist goes away? THE MOVIE ENDS!". He fucking BOLTED out of there. For a minute or so I lost track of everyone, but the luckless Fred was soon in my radar. Using the dark to my advantage, I waited, invisible, at the side of the road until he came up. I started telling him about the German girl the others had told him about earlier, and he ran the hell away from me. I wasn't able to catch up conventionally, but none of my friends had thought of moving through others' camping sites. In this way I was able to stalk Fred as he ran all the way around the camp, while I leisurely walked, hidden in shadows.

Oh yeah.

Now that I think about it, apart from giving Fred a near heart-attack at the end, that's actually about all I had to say about the matter. Later as Cristian left the tent to use the bathroom, I said I'd follow him. I instead sneaked around the back of the tent and listened to more conversation until past Cristian's return. Once during their talking, my friends mentioned I'm probably listening to them right now. I almost burst out laughing (it wasn't particularly funny, but at the time I found it hilarious. It was also 6 or 7 in the morning). So actually yeah, that's it. And I was going to reveal more of my summer, but this one example took too damn long.

It just don't stop.

I think I've written enough and included enough images to qualify for a good post here. The actual quality of everything might hate you, but that never stopped me. So I suppose... this is the end. For now. *sniff* Goodbye )':

 The End

Asshole Takes Picture Of His Face Every Day For 57394 Years!

Facebook is a website of trends. As in, trends of what people do on Facebook. I remember a time, albeit not remembering when, when everybody was filling out stupid amounts of surveys on subjects like "What color are u!?!?!??!" and "how much dou kno bout Simpons!!" and "The Quiz With No Sense". There was some entertainment involved, as some people were actually damn funny in making this, such as the nonsense quiz were all the results were things like "MOTHERFUCKING THUNDERBEAR" and "TODDLER KILLER". Then there was generic shit like "You are the color green. You are calm and ready and you take it all in the ass blah blah. To help yourself help others, you should focus more on releasing your creative energy and not taking it up the ass."

Anyhow, now the new thing is liking (or, a few weeks ago, being a fan of) different pages. There's a bunch coming up that are something akin to "man takes photo of his face every day for 7 years" and such. The gender, number of years, and word "picture" change ever so often, but it's all basically the same thing.

Well, I'll bet these people think they're so clever and unique. They probably think their artfulness has no bonds and they're doing the world a huge favor. Well, I'd like to establish that their ideas are pre-dated by an 8-year-old almost 8 years ago. Unless they thought of them more than 8 years ago, but then it's unfair because before I was 8 I could barely think. Well I supppose 7 years ago is almost 8 years ago... but still. They're not original ideas. And I was definitely actually planning on doing exactly what they did for the longest time if I only had a camera. And I was planning it long before I saw that they did it.

All they really accomplished is making me less satisfied with the world. I'm sure normally the project would make me feel very good about myself, but now since others will think I just ripped these people off, I'm not gonna be nearly as happy. Good job assholes.

Mix CDs, then Off On A Non-Tangent

Making a mix tape (or CD) is a very tough, trying process. First off, the point is to choose bands that the reciever has not heard of. This alone can be quite a challenging task, but is certainly doable. There are thousands, tens of thousand, maybe even hundreds of thousands of artists out there. The next step is choosing songs. Seeing as most bands have produced at least, say, 10 songs, you have at least a million to choose from. If each song takes as little as 3 minutes, you're gonna be listening for 3,000,000 minutes to all of that, or 50,000 hours, or about 2,083 days, and about 5.7 years. Of course, most bands have produced at least 30 songs, some over 100, and then there are countless remixes and mash-ups and concert performances and oh my. I highly doubt you could fit all that into the standard 80-year lifespan of a person (well, a first-world person).

Choosing a song to put into a mix CD can be quite as hard. It needs to represent the overall sound of a band, it needs to sound good, and in most cases (well, by my ideal here), it can't be a single in order to show that you actually listen to said band extensively. Singles are singles for a reason, in the fact that they often represent the most accessable, often favorite songs from an artist. Luckily, there are still many other songs that are equally as enticing and nice. With these guidelines, you need to kind of pay attention to what the reciever of the CD already listens to. If you're trying to introduce a band with a wide variety of sound, and your friend likes soft rock, you're better off not putting the techno-infused sludge jam recorded for shits and giggles or to make some sort of chaotic end in an album. If I wanted to tell a friend about, hell, even Nine Inch Nails, and my friend liked some metal, I'd much rather put 'Last' on there than 'Corona Radiata'. The rest is up for them to discover. In that way, you can't put a song that runs completely contrary to a band's general sound. If your friend or whoever enjoyrs the song, they'll be expecting more. If I heard a song that sounded like Lady Gaga, but found that for the most part the band sounds more like Anal Cunt, I'd be slightly turned off. I mean, it works out if I enjoy Anal Cunt (I do not), but still.

Next thing, you can't just dump songs on the CD once you pick a few. Well, I wouldn't in any case. A mix CD should still be a listenable experience, and for that reason it needs to flow like an album. The first song should sound like a first song, perhaps starting with only one instrument and building up. The CD should flow from some heavier songs to lighter ones and back, for example, and do so smoothly. If you can manage songs that seem to flow right into each other, such as of Montreal's 'Gallery Piece' and NIN's 'Ringfinger', perfect. The last song should sound like a last song, and should sum up the general feel of the CD. I mean, if the whole thing is full of rather cheerful, summer songs like The Diarrhetards' 'Suck My Dick' and anything by Sublime, you wouldn't want to end it on Radiohead's 'Karma Police', which doesn't serve as a good album-ending song anyway, but certainly wouldn't fit after The Offspring's 'The Kids Are Alright'. Actually, obviously, in the right mood, it would. But perhaps not in general.

I was planning on writing more, but planning is the wrong word. I had hoped to write more, but I can't really imagine what else to write here. It's a post about mix CDs, and being a non-expert on mix CDs (I've made maybe 3 in my life), I don't have much else to say about them. In fact, the whole reason this post came to fruitation is because as I was writing it, my Internet was completely gone. I was also in the process of choosing songs for a friend's mix CD, some songs which I hadn't really heard yet, but I did love and respect the bands who made them. Perhaps one day when I'm more famous than that band and everyone reads my blog from start to finish, they'll want to know what amazing things I listen to. So here's a shout-out to some of the greatest music-makers I've recently or ever heard (and my friend is going to hear): Manchester Orchestra, Manu Chao, of Montreal, Them Crooked Vultures, The Dead Weather, Does It Offend You Yeah?, Phantogram, Street Sweeper Social Club, and Peter Bjorn and John.

I'm still thinking of what else to put on there. I'ma see if I can listen to some local Chicago bands from a local newspaper called RedEye, such as Rabbit Children. I haven't heard them as of yet so no idea as to the awesome-levels associated. But I am low on ideas so what else will I do? Oh, I guess I can also check out Q101's Local 101 for some unheard of local bands. Sweet. Not to mention all these CDs I have that I've never ever listened to, by artists such as 4 Non Blondes, Paleface, and 10,000 Maniacs. Alright, toodles.

Except my Internet isn't dead yet and I need to kill time as I listen to Manchester Orchestra's Mean Everything To Nothing, so I guess I'll write this paragraph too. With no excess to the Internet, you might assume I'm writing this on Microsoft Word if I have a PC and whatever Macs use if I have one of those (hint: judging by my lack of Apple knowledge, I'm PROBABLY using a PC. With Windows. Since I am not cool enough/don't care enough/can't be bothered to learn about things like Ubuntu and Linux). Well, that would be wrong, because I am in fact using the amazing Notepad. I've always liked the clean, plain look of it (being nothing but words after all), and those fonts where all the characters take up the same amount of space (I forgot the proper term, and I have no Internet to check Wikipedia's 'Font' entry), and just. I dunno. Notepad. Makes me feel much more like I'm actually writing this like an old-fashioned, educated person. Not that I'm not educated. Although I might be expelled from my school due to cutting too many classes.

I don't like that last part tainting the above paragraph, so instead I'll write one about it here. This also gives me an idea to write a "OMG SUMMER IS HERE I JUST CAME" entry next. But anyhow, due to cutting too many classes (over 30 by my estimate), my attendance director lady told my mother that I should start looking for other schools. This did not flow well with me at all, since (WARNING! Apparantly this comes as a surprise to some people) I really enjoy going to my current school, despite cutting classes. I don't think that people realize that cutting a class has different contexts, such as I did not want to go because I felt like hanging out with friends, or I couldn't risk it because there's big assignments due today that I didn't do. Of course, there are more than that, but those are two very very different circumstances. Even the former doesn't mean I don't like going to school or would rather hang out with friends. It's just one of those days. And since most of my cuts were in the last week of school before finals, when we did not do anything in class, I think I should immediately be forgiven.

Oddly, I might mention, adults seem to think that cutting class means going into the most grimy bathroom stall available, and lonesomely masturbating and smoking joints. I draw this conclusion from the fact that my attendance director lady and father both inquired if my friends are even still my friends. This is a silly proposition since a) my school has over 2,000 students and 100 staff members, is next to a police academy, and is one of the finer in the state and nation, and so smoking a joint would not go unnoticed or uncared for. b) most times when I am cutting class I am hanging out with friends, who in many cases are also cutting class. And this doesn't mean I have stupid, ghetto, irresponsible friends, just that they, like some teachers, have common sense and realize that one missed class in high school isn't the end of the world. Neither is over 30, spaced out over 9 months, in 6 different classes.

I made a petition, with the exact words "I agree that if [[full name here]] is expelled/asked to leave/any other wording for 'expulsion' from [[school name here]], I will be severely depressed and at least 20% more likely to use heroine and crystal methamphetamine." In one day I got 181 people to sign, including 1 teacher (who I don't believe read the full statement). Many people believed that this petition was actually how I was supposed to not get expelled. This is wrong, as no one told me to make one and it was purely for shits and giggles (I think I've used that phrase twice in this post now). I just wanted to see how many people would sign. In the end, having 3 front/back pages full of signatures supporting me is quite cool. 3 other teachers said they'd write letters to my principal or stand in as character witnesses if I needed them to. This is great, and will probably help 100 times more than this petition. 1 teacher who I had only met a few times but was extremely cool said he'd take his angry mood out on some important guy in my school, who I agree is important but not sure as to what he actually does. The teacher mouthed "fuck you" and we laughed about it. I really love the teachers here.

Anyway, today I was planning to go to my principal and appeal my exuplsion, but I was then informed by another important guy who's job remains a mystery to me that I need to appeal in August, after getting my expulsion letter from the school. I think this is really stupid and I should just save them the trouble of writing a letter by appearing today, but whatever. It's their choice.

Also, I feel like I should mention my attendance director lady's reaction to the petition. She first asked if these people are going to attend class for me. This is a valid point, but still rather stupid. Hold on, let me tell you about my attendance director lady. She is an old woman who always looks angry and is quite, QUITE skilled at sounding angry at all times of day. She's blond and short, and, did I mention angry? Anyhow, she then went on to tell me that all these people had no idea how many classes I've cut and that I've had several parent-teacher-attendancedirectorlady meetings. This is a very stupid argument, because it assumes that all my peers are rule-following fanatics who respect the time that my attendance director lady and whichever teachers give me. They are not and do not, by the way. The next thing she did was accuse me of not being in class when I was on my lunch period. She caught me here, except for the fact that it was my lunch period, so she could go suck a chode. She then felt the necessity to tell me that I am misrepresenting the school. This was the one argument of hers that I could not possibly understand. No one has my attendance records except for the school, and unless they result in an Out Of School Suspension (and only very few have, and those occured much much much earlier than her telling my mom (and curiously, not me. In fact, I wouldn't even know I was expelled if it weren't for my mom calling me angrily. I did not get any sort of formal letter or phone call, and even my Division Teacher (on of the teachers promising to write letters and the like) was not aware that I was until I told her)), aren't given to colleges or other high schools or the public or any such thing. In fact, since during my cuts I stayed inside the school, even a passing stranger wouldn't get a singly HINT that my school is not full of rule-abiding champions. Not only all of that, but I am on the math team for my school, and I kick so much ass with that. Then I also scored a 35 on the ACT as a Freshman, and probably something equally high on the SAT (I have before, after all). The average for my school is 26, most seniors would shit themselves to get as high as 31, and to get into basic colleges one needs such impressive scores in different sections as 19 and 22. I got a 36 (perfect) in science and 34s in everything else. Now these scores and math competition winners ARE seen by colleges, other high schools, and the public, so in fact I think I'm representing my school VERY FUCKING WELL.

But clearly not. Man, fuck this situation. I want some Orange Cream Soda.

P.S. So since I wrote this all in Notepad, the longest paragraph took up maybe 2.3 lines there. I did not realize until copy/pasting my text into this here blog-posting box of wonders that these paragraphs are fucking gigantic and unseemly. Now I don't feel like editing them though. Maybe one day. But until then, enjoy having your eyes raped by wordy behemoths. Maybe some pictures would fix things, but I don't feel like putting those either. And yay, I have Internet again (as evident by the ability to post)!

P.P.S. I put in one shitty picture and seperated a short paragraph into shorter ones! My job here is DONE.

unsatisfactory list

this applies right now but there's some general hates here

• not being able to sleep
• being hungry but not wanting to eat
• when you're hot but as soon as you do something to cool down you get cold
• not wanting to do anything
• doing drugs to do drugs
• unsatisfactory masturbation
• when people spell masturbation as "masterbation"
• when people spell things wrong in general
• still not being able to sleep
• inability to come up with hate-list items
• when music is either only too loud or too quite
• not remembering lyrics
• lack of conversation partners
• lack of interest in video games
• m rating on games
• people (that aren't me) walking in the house at night
• no will to get up and get something to eat
• that i'm annoyed that not everything in this post is uncapitalized, but i'll be annoyed if it is all non-capital
• the fact that the size of the post-area will split some of these into multiple lines
• that i couldn't figure out what (cos20)(cos40)(cos80) is
• my friend told me that it was 1/8 before i figured it out
• the numbers in this post piss me off
• basically everything
• running out of ideas
• still not being sleepy at all
• this list will end up looking much shorter than it should in my head
• lingering hunger
• lingering lack of willpower
• lingering insomnia
• that i changed the whole thing to non-capitalized and it's not pissing me off so i was wrong before which is pissing me off
• being wrong
• list will probably end up actually being too long
• so i was wrong again
• still hungry and not sleepy
• might get up after this
• i don't feel like tagging this post at all but i guess is should
• i should untag the other posts, it's useless
• don't feel like untagging posts
• fuck

Beat Golf

Okay, so I have approximately $34 (just kidding, exactly $34), and this deal at GameStop is Buy 2 Get 1 Free (B2G1F or BTGOF or... whatever, that looks like Beat Golf) and I'm pretty sure the three games I want are all $17.99. So, I clearly don't have enough, as without tax that's $35.98, and with tax probably like $39.67 or something. This presents an issue as I'm not sure how long this deal extends for (actually, I hope it's still active).

Close enough

Well, I've looked into my dad's quarter jar that we have for laundry (I know, I'm terrible), and... Well, not I have an amazing $38.75. With my probably LOW estimate of tax (that's just sad), I'm still almost a dollar off. Uh oh, I have to go off on a tangent now.

This one time I thought I lost my swimming shorts (I haven't swam in so long, I forgot what those hydrodynamic ones are called... basically just Speedos, but not the... wrong kind). My mother would be very sad about that, and by sad, I mean ragingly angry. This would not be good. The nearest place that I knew for CERTAIN had the same exact trunks I had was about 5 miles away. That's not that much, but it still takes a bit on a bike, especially with all that traffic. Plus, the only free evening I had to make the trip was on a Friday after school, so I'd have to be quick. A bike ride was better than my angry mother though, so off I went.

 The wrong kind, by the way.

When I arrived at the store, bringing all my change and money in bags and things, I found out I was about three bucks short. My entire plan and journey was... wasted?! The guy at the counter watched me take out crumpled bills and bags of change and painstakingly count them and showing them to him as if he thought that I was gonna trick him with the sheer amount of objects before him. In the end I was about three bucks off, as you already know, but he just gave me the trunks. Like, he didn't give me my money, but he wasn't a prick at all about the three bucks. And I mean, he wouldn't even be a prick, a few cents is understandable, but three bucks is a huge amount, clearly.

Anyway, the whole point of that was that sometimes people don't care that you're a little bit off if you put in the effort of having as much money as you can.

So anyhow, now I have to go to my giant change bucket, with its maybe $50 in change (no quarters), and take out a few extra dimes. I'm not gonna put this game of Beat Golf to waste. As my bike is now stolen, I'm also putting in the effort of walking all that way (about six blocks) to GameStop. I will update when I am back. Wish me luck.

IMMEDIATE UPDATE: I didn't want to go into this unprepared, so I called the GameStop by me, and... I hate when this happens. The Beat Golf deal was... only for the weekend. Fuck me hard. I might still go though, I really want that Orange Box or Dead Space or F.E.A.R.... Damnit, I wanted them all. Now I don't have to spend my dad's quarters though. I'll update to tell you what I got, I guess.

LATER UPDATE: WELL. Deciding on Orange Box (I was a dollar or so short of getting Deadrising as well), I go to the line to the counter (mainly behind one kid). He is trying to buy a rated M game, and the guy says he needs ID. I look at my life, realize it hasn't been going on for 17 years, and ask anyway if I need my ID, hoping my beard will stray off any age-attack. The guy tells me I'm more believable than the other kid, but I need to have my ID. So no games at all.

2 Little Adderalls + Something Else

I'm pretty disappointed in myself. Since Wednesday I have been under the influence of at least something, with Adderall on Wednesday, something green and organic yesterday, and a combination of the two today. I haven't really had a clear thought since this morning, and that was soon ruined by hanging out with my friends, including Lil' May and Big Joe from the last post.

Let me tell you, combining drugs can have strange, intense consequences. At one moment, Lil' May... holy shit, hold that thought. I'm listening to NIN's Broken again, this time at full volume, and it is. Intense. Very. I've already used that adjective in this paragraph, but gah, it is. So loud and abusive. "Happiness In Slavery" is such a dark, painful song, but it is creepily groovy. Currently have that on.

Anyway, Lil' May handed me some blueberry muffin, and it just... I experienced what I considered the happiest moment of my life (sadly), describing it, if my memory serves me correct, as "if there was really a Force like in Star Wars in everything except instead of Force it was happiness, that bit of muffin was the center of it all and it was feeding my all the happy in the world." Then the rest of the day was me with my head down or lying down and not really responding to anyone with more than a sentence and being a bitch and telling people to stop touching me and talking to me. I am still in a shitty mood. A terribly shitty mood.

I have a fear that my brain has overproduced dopamine, and it must now recharge, leaving me in a state of shit. In fact, I have lost the will to write/type/describe. Goodbye.

Darn, what a bad, stupid, pictureless, depressing entry here.

4 Little Adderalls

First off, I was absolutely right when I said that I will fail to make updates at all times when I want to, such as the lack of one yesterday. Yesterday meaning Tuesday, not Wednesday. It is Thursday, granted, but since I haven't fallen asleep since Wednesday, it does not count as a new day until the sun rises. That is the official rule, you should follow it. Or not. Be a rebel. Who am I to dictate your day-naming rights?

Alright, so I have a friend, his name starts with an O so we can call him Big Joe, because that sounds silly to me right now. I have another friend, who's name starts with a J, so we can call her Lil' May. Because I said so. So Lil' May is apparently afflicted with that terrible, completely rare and valid condition called ADD. Or ADHD. I never really figured out the difference. Basically, she has some kind of attention deficit disorder. Apparently. So she was kindly and mercifully prescribed a little amphetamine called Adderall. It looks like this, at least the form she was given:

The actual pills are smaller than the ones on your screen, thankfully, otherwise they'd have a hard time being swallowed. I don't know about earlier, but now they're apperantly flavored... it's like eating a little berry capsule or something. You may be asking yourself "what?" So let's discuss what an amphetamine is. I've known this for a while, but it's interesting that today's topic in health was exactly different forms of drugs, including amphetamines. Amphetamines, or alpha-methylphenethylamines (now you can tell I'm ripping this from Wikipedia, I would never figure that naming shit out), are a form of stimulant. A stimulant is a drug that increases levels of body and brain functions, inducing greater focus, more energy, less fatigue, and a loss of appetite. Doesn't sound too bad. Note however that meth is just a stronger version of this stuff, so yeah. Not too bad.

Brainifically, the drug induces some changes in numbers of chemicals produced, particularly dopamines, the little things responsible for pleasure. Other chemicals with ridiculous names are norepinephrine, an adrenalin-like thing, and serotonin, which is too complicated for me to write about a lot at 3:41am, but apparently it controls the digestive track, but some extra serotonin controls appetite, sleep, and mood. So you can see how this stuff changes someone, obviously. It's amazing that a few milligrams of a substance in a body of about 60 kilograms (if the whole pill was an active ingredient, me taking those two would give me a 1/3000000 concentration of the stuff (if you had 30,000 dollars, and spent a cent of that, you'd spend as much of your money as there was Adderall in my body between about 12:50pm and 3:15pm yesterday)) can produce such noticeable effects.

Back to Lil' May and Big Joe though. So Lil' May has a mind for business, and besides selling much more respected articles such as the female hemp plant, she decided she has no need for her Adderalls and sells those too. Big Joe now, he has a lifestyle of never having a sober weekend, or even work-day after school-time is over. Big Joe likes to try new things, and one day he noticed that I had two little adorable pills. Actually, that's wrong. Fuck me if I ever figure out how he found out I had tried Adderall in... oh, late January maybe? But he had, and he grew immediately interested. I explained to Big Joe some of the nice calming effects the pills had on me, and prior to that, the extreme horniness I felt that led to my hand becoming my make-out partner as we watched a Health video on the cardiovascular system. Big Joe was very excited.

We made a deal and I got Big Joe two pills. Taking them, he later announced that it was some "hot shit" (he probably said something different, but that's okay). Ever since then, Big Joe has been Lil' May's number one customer in Adderall, except my best friend, who owes Lil' May in excess of $60 for the little attention-boosters. Well, today/yesterday, he ordered a nice sum of 8 pills (luckily not 881), giving me 18 dollars (each pill goes for $2 from Lil' May), with 2 for myself. I go to Lil' May, seeing her before Division, and quickly purchase 8 pills. Thinking a few seconds more about it, I decided, "what the hell" and got two (I hope the inconsistencies in using numerals and words bothers the living bacteria out of you) more with the spare $2 from the 18 and $2 I happened to have on me besides that.

I kept the pills for the next two hours or so, and finally stragetically popped both at the beginning of my 7th period class, Italian. This would have the effects kick in during 8th period Health, which I found to be a good period to be not completely there in. Come 8th period, I could barely sit the fuck still. My fingers kept twitching and all. The entire period we had an assignment involving reading about drugs and answering questions about them. For the first time the Adderall actually helped me in work instead of distracting me, and I found myself ZOOOOOMING (with that many O's) through the assignment like there's no tomorrow (or as if it was going to be graded, which it wasn't (on the note of tomorrow, I suppose I am in yesterday's tomorrow now)). I felt the need to laugh at the amphetamine section of the book, especially when it told me all the nice reasons I should not abuse these drugs (which, like all drugs, are obviously fatal at first dose).

The effect continued into my 9th period (last class), American Literature. I honestly forgot what we did there but I mostly talked to some of my friends and had a blast, due to the increased good chemicals in my brain (that was a reference to Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions, by the way. You should go read some Vonnegut, best damn author out there, simultaneously with Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman). After 9th, I decided I did not want this extremely pleasant experience to end, so I called up Lil' May (who had cut the last few classes she had) and took her up on the 6 Adderalls she owed me for various favors. Of those 6 I used 2 today/yesterday, popping one right after meeting her outside the Arts Building of my school. I met up with some friends of mine after a failed math team practice, and we proceeded to sit in a hallway for about an hour and, in retrospect, actually do nothing. Which was loads of fun.

To my great stress, it was soon time to leave at 4:30pm (which is, coincidentally, almost 12 hours ago now), so off we go on the Brown Line. Well, three of us, the others (seven of us total, so four of them) had other means of getting home. We however took the Brown Line. Come Paulina, my first friendly gets off. Then the other chap and I exit on Irving Park. He walks to the street on which he lives, at which point he turns. I was really enjoying our conversation, however, so I accompanied him home due to a sudden panic at being alone. However, at his house, we had to split, and so my fear became reality. It really wasn't that bad though. As I waited for the bus back on Irving Park Road, I popped my fourth and final pill. 80 milligrams now. Although I am Polish, having lived in America for so long, I consider myself American. Therefor, I'd now like to show some patriotism and show you an artistic expression of the American Flag:

Also, circled in yellow is what I had and probably still partially have in my body. I had never taken more than three Adderalls in a day, and the last time of any dosage was at least a month and a half ago, so my tolerance was once again next to none. Four Adderalls, I found and am still finding out, have much longer, harsher effects than two.

I got home, and decided to be calm. About five minutes later I couldn't stand it, due to a sudden OCD that had developed in me. I failed to mention earlier, but by now I absolutely HAD to have at least two people texting me, otherwise I'd start panicing. This time I HAD to put on loud and cacophonous music, with songs like "Tastes Like Kevin Bacon" by iwrestledabearonce, "Endzeit" by Heaven Shall Burn, and "But The Nuns Are Watching" by the masters of comedy, I Set My Friends On Fire.

Screaming along at violent, throat-hurting levels, I decided that I need to listen to Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile, a beautiful masterpiece with angry noises in it. Doing this, I decided that I do, in fact, have an appetite, and as fast as I could heated up some of yesterday's (Tuesday's) seafood pasta, filling three cups of orange juice as it microwaved. I had a seat in my room, on the floor, in front of my (admittingly sexy) speakers, turned up to a comfortable, ear-fucking volume of 23 (out of 30), or that much louder than a vacuum cleaner. For reference, volume 8 is easily audible during the day with all those background noises outside my window.

I just sat there, eating what seemed like an endless pasta bowl, and screaming/moaning along to Trent Reznor singing/yelling/talking/moaning about his frail, wretched existence. My mother called to my dismay, telling me her phone has nearly depleted the number of lithiom ions on the negative side of its battery's electrode (basically, the damn battery died). My mother then told me to kindly bring her her charger, not being aware of how much damage this was causing to my new, OCD-run train of thought. Sitting there for 20 minutes more than I should've, I eventually gathered the necessary equipment (socks, shoes, iPod) to carry the charger the enormous two-block distance between our apartment and her job.

Not quite tired of Nine Inch Nails, I put on The Downward Spiral at the beginning of my walk, expecting to then finish at home through better-quality speakers then screwed up, cheap, brandless earphones. However, I soon discovered the intensity of something playing less than an inch from your ear drum (which I haven't heard in a while, due to both my iPods being impractible to use unless you hold down the earphone jack the whole time, which I was doing) is quite pleasurable, especially with an intense, dense album like The Downward Spiral. I did not want to stop, and therefor walked around my neighborhood for an hour, ending up at home just as Trent was addressing his sweetest friend in "Hurt".

Damn, this is getting quite boring. I'ma skip to the part where I planned to go to sleep, followed by Big Joe telling me over AIM that he had, in fact, taken all 8 of his pills at once, and was now joyfully dancing. So here I was, in my PJ's, contacts off, in my bed, listening to more NIN, texting a rather nice girl I wouldn't at all mind dating, as well as Big Joe. I expected to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation as usual, which, not very courteous or pleasant to me, is an efficient method of sleeping. This did not work. I found that every single thing I did had some sort of negative effect on my comfort and sleep-readiness. My mouth was exceedingly dry, so I drank some orange juice, and found the weirdest sensation in my stomach of fluid moving around. I rolled on my side, no. On my back, no. Belly, no. I got too hot, so I lowered my covers. Now I was too cold. Everything had a bipolarity and both poles were dead-set on murdering my sleep.

Soon I felt sweaty and hot and figured I might in fact just have a fever. On the girl's suggestion I went to make some tea, but instead made some cocoa. Having drank this, I went to the bathroom to urinate and defecate, and found both pissing and shitting hugely beneficial in reducing my fever-like symptoms. The milk also helped reduce my hunger, at least for a while. But perhaps due to not-completely-gone effects or the OCD need to text, I still could not fall asleep. By about 1:30 both my chatting buddies were asleep, despite assertions minutes earlier from both that they were "not tired at all" and "awake to the fullest". I turned on The Downward Spiral again and sang and screamed and moaned along, this time hearing different noises because of the different audio delivery.

This is me in my bed. Sorta. Or that's who I imagine myself as. Not even, I tend to imagine myself as myself when I'm singing/yelling/moaning depressing, suicidal, sex-fueled, cleverly-worded diary entries. I keep sounding like I'm making fun of Nine Inch Nails or Trent here, but it really is my favorite band, and he my favorite artist. Also I guess he's my favorite band, being the only actual NIN dude.

Finishing that album at about 2:30, I was at a loss of what to do. I was once again hungry, so I went and made more cocoa. I then torrented Broken, also by Nine Inch Nails, which hugely goes against my policy of buying actual albums, ESPECIALLY from my favorite band, but I had that urge to listen to it. So I did soon, the torrent being done in about 5 minutes remarkably. The end of the record occured around 3:40, by which time I had started writing this entry. Jesus, I've been typing this for an hour now. If it sucks, I'm sorry, I have a temporary case of insomnia and frankly don't give a fuck because nobody's gonna read this stuff ever except me, or at least not for a LONG time. I now have about 100 minutes till it is time for me to wake up and take a shower, followed by getting ready for school. I don't get why I get up at 6:20 if school begins at 8:50. Oh right, the train takes... well no, the train takes about 35 minutes. Actually, as I had done before, I could wake up at 7:30, skip the shower, do all the essentials, and still leave the house at 8 and comfortably make it to school.

I am out of writing fuel and am once again hungry, so I'll go make more cocoa. It's a lot like that image I got off Google right there to the right, except... it's in a yellow cup. And It's a taller, more cylindrical cup. And it's a lighter shade of... whatever, brown. And come to think of it this whole time it was chocolate milk, not hot cocoa. I don't actually know the difference, but I imagine it's about the same thing. So no worries.

Jesus Christ, what do I do now? I still have time to kill. I'll go check my Facebook... nothing new. There's an amazing 4 people in idle chat mode. I don't want to talk to them.

Goodnight. Or goodmorning. Wish me luck on functioning properly today.

UPDATE: Having looked at this post soon after posting, I realized that these paragraphs are huge and unseemly and the images sucked in being where they should be. I fixed the images but fuck no am I rewriting/editing all this stuff. It's 5am! As it is getting lighter outside, it is now officially Thursday. I think I might've said Tuesday earlier. I frankly don't care.

Hat Trick ):

So you know those days when you start something new and you don't want to stop because it's awesome? That's like me and this blog here. I promised myself I wouldn't be too stupid and make more than a post every two or three days, you know, keep it coming slow and steady. Here I am, making the THIRD entry in a day. It is my first day and I have nothing better to do, but still.

Since this little project of mine is a release for when I'm bored, I guess that it's all okay for me to update it whenever I feel like. I just have this bad feeling that whatever imaginary people are reading my blog are... bored. Because my blog isn't particularly clever or entertaining. And they're so critical. And want to hurt me in horrid ways involving hot staplers.

I think about it and realize that all these criticisms are in my head, and I shouldn't care what my imaginary audience thinks, or, if ever they exist, my real audience. This whole project is for my self-enjoyment, and if it's not leading to that, there's no point at all in it. So yeah, I could be critical of myself and say "oh no, I'm such a stupid hobo flint-fucker, making more than one entry in a day!" Or I could be supportive and go "this is your project, Pat. You do whatever the hell you feel like, and besides. This makes up for all those times you'll be too lazy to update!"

Knowing how my life works, I'll be superduper active on this for a few weeks, maybe even some months, then it'll die away into nothing as I stop caring enough to update. Two months later or so, I'll attempt to make a daring comeback, with such encouraging messages as "I really should get back to this!" and "Break time OVER." Then I'll update up to FOUR times, and I'll be happy. Then I'll forget to and just say "ehhhh, later." Finally, I'll feel miserable for letting another part of me die.

I had a journal once, and that was the one exception where my comeback totally kicked everything's ass, with a new entry every day and all that stuff (not a LiveJournal, an ACTUAL JOURNAL that I could do ANYTHING to). I was so happy, and I was like "damn, in twenty years since I'll totally still have this I'll be able to see how stupid or smart I was and reminesce about the good ol' days". Too bad my journal was for school. And too bad my schoolwork is in my backpack. Too bad that backpack's now LOST. You may be brave and ask "how the bloody fuck do you lose a backpack?" To which I'd reply "beats me."


Thanks to a typo I fixed earlier (on "ehhhh, later."), I figured out that later and alter are almost the same word. Hot damn, I just made my day.

On Pictures And The Best Food Ever

So if you're so keen to notice, my last and first post had two very nice pictures in it that I definitely worked on for maybe six or seven days... straight. But even with that massive amount of dedication, the end result came out pretty sloppy. Terribly sloppy. So sloppy as I should be ashamed of my work.

Pictures tend to spice up a blog, make it more interesting than a large or unlarge squad of text, bombarding your eyes and brain with organized, nicely presented information. That doesn't quite work for your brain, unless you've got nothing better to do. Your brain wants to have fun and be busy, and it can't do that while it's absorbing MORE and MORE characters. I'm definitely sure I've written over FORTY-ONE (that's a prime too!) words now, and your brain wants to say "STOP IT JESUS TWO PARAGRAPHS IS JUST TOO MUCH".

Now, the type of image is important too. I could just import something from Wikipedia, like so:

While certainly a fine-quality, educational image, it serves no purpose. And, unless this was a blog strictly about math and we were discussing the golden ratio, you wouldn't want to see such an amount of work in an equation, or an equation at all. So perhaps a different, less informative image would be necessary. Instead of pulling something off Wikipedia, I could type 'ass clouds' into google and get this:

Oh that's nice. Look at those clouds, they look so smooth. I wish I could just lick them, I'll bet they taste like the best damn ice cream ever. You know, ice cream is sometimes disregarded as a dessert, or a rare-occasion thing, or something you'd buy at Jewel or that one store that doesn't exist in Chicago but does everywhere else, Kroger. No no, ice cream is a fine delicacy that should be enjoyed as often as possible. I once had the pleasure of going to Charlie Trotter's, some insanely fancy restaurant, and had some nice olive oil sorbet. You may be thinking something along the lines of "what the fuck", but no, this was definitely the best meal of my life. You may also be thinking "sorbet isn't ice cream", but fuck you.

Olive Sorbet, courtesy of the hungry hedonist:

Having run clean out of ways to continue this post (just kidding, I'm just lazy), here's a picture everyone might enjoy regardless of context:

The Hardest Decision Ever Made

So here I am, or was, and probably will be, at 3:53 AM, unable to sleep and without any friends except this one guy who's so cool for being stupid like me and not sleeping. And I decide to make a blog because I was reading a blog earlier and I was like "Holy woah, I have thoughts and things to write! I could probably even make or take a picture or two! Blog time? YEAH BABY!"

I excitedly typed blogspot into my URL bar up there, ready to enter that crazy world of clever people who know how to entertain (I can italize with the click of two buttons?!). Ecstatic with joy, I was struck with a dilemma. What on Earth do I name my blog? This would be what it'd be remembered as when I become world-known for my wit! People would go "You know that blog, [awesome mysterious but not too dramatic name here]? It's pretty damn bitchin'."

I took a good FIVE MINUTES (did I highlight that text and click the 'b' up there? Hell no! ctrl+b sucka!) deciding, in an irrational, panicful (that's a word), insomnia-driven frenzy on what to entitle this masterpiece, on what to brand my work as. I went to from stupid titles like "Cleverly-Titled Blog" to the absurd but tasty and still stupid "Banana Cream".


After a while I got into my usual exercise of thinking about numbers, and then I remembered this list of primes I made out of boredom, and then it hit me.

Think about the types of numbers you see. I don't know what types of numbers you see. You might see numbers like $1,237.58 as a salary and then $920.33 as a salary after everything's taken away from it. You might see numbers like 56 and 33 and 18 if you're into the whole lottery business. If you're in high-school trigonometry like me, you might see sin70. I also do math competitions, math is my thing see, and I regularly see answers that are between 1 and 300, some crazy 9-digit numbers, roots of roots of roots, and simple, non-threatening fractions like 11/6. But what I never ever see are numbers in the 800s. Especially not 880s. And 881, I don't think I've ever seen that number until I made my list of primes (881 is the 152nd if I recall).

Since that day (about two weeks ago now), 881 has stuck in my head as the oddest number. The ugly duckling of numbers. Yet it has so much charm, it's not ugly. It's too beautiful to be with the other, lowlier numbers, like 1 and -3 and that freak i. Therefor this blog is beautiful. Read it every day. Even if I don't update. I'll give you free platonic love, and physical love if you want it bad enough.