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.

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.