2 AM Word Barf

A few days ago, someone told me that my blog posts were total dogsh*t. They told me that in order to write a “quality” blog post, I should just write whatever unfiltered material happens to be swimming around in my brainsack. So, for this blog post I have decided to sit on my a** at 2:00 AM with all the basement windows open and ramble away like a runaway train as I listen to NCS and Allen complaining about how I can’t hit any Q’s. Allen, if you’re reading this, you’re a**cheeks at League. You feed on every champion you play and understand less macro than a sack of potatoes. 

I was originally gonna post some tenet I wrote years ago for this blog post because I’m too godd*mn lazy to do anything school-related senior year second semester. But the first two I posted were apparently mistakes because a bunch of angsty snowflakes came up to me and told me that I’m not allowed to say things that might offend people or hurt their feelies. F*ck their feelies. Fear of retribution and militant censorship stifle the principles of free thought and expression that America was founded upon, so I will say whatever the hell I please.

Sh*t. I just heard a loud noise outside and now I’m scared. I watched Parasite a couple days ago with the lads and some old friends from Central and it was scary as hell. The movie was awesome – brilliant plot, acting, music, and message; but the one scene where the dude peeks his eyes above the floorboards is terrifying. I had nightmares over it. When I was young and got nightmares I would call for my dad and he would come and turn on the lights and comfort me until I fell asleep again. Now he just tells me to grow the f*ck up. I’m sad. I wish I could always be young. I feel like a child trapped in an adolescent’s body. I went to Main Event for Zach’s birthday yesterday and I fit in better with the 5 year olds running around and waving their laser guns than I do at school. It actually takes a lot of energy to wake up each day and act like a normal 17 year old. Sh*t, I’m almost an adult. I’ve got three more months where I can commit a misdemeanor and be tried in a juvenile court. That’s not a lot of time left. At least as an adult I’ll be able to vote, sue, and legally join the porn industry. But I still can’t legally buy or consume alcohol. That’s a bummer. How can you be able to join the porn industry but not be able to buy alcohol? Alcohol has created far more people than it’s killed.

Yay, I feel a bit sleepy now. This is a good thing. It means my sleep schedule is less f*cked up than I thought. Hopefully I will be able to fall asleep before 4 AM watching videos of Jack Welch discussing management techniques. I recently read books by Simon Sinek and Sheryl Sandberg that discussed the nature of leadership, but I like Welch’s approach. I love reading. Reading the New York Times is my coping mechanism in Ceramics class. I am the only senior at my six person table in ceramics 1, and each day I get to hear freshman talk about their sh*tty love lives. It’s f*cking torture. All they talk about is who is dating who or who is going to spring with who. I don’t give a sh*t. I considered joining in their conversation and imparting my sagely wisdom, but found that my neurons are far too precious to squander on some squirrely freshmen. I once ran over a squirrel with my car. I felt incredibly guilty. I imagined the poor squirrel as it was crushed mercilessly under the weight of my car. I imagined its family grieving the tragic loss of a beloved relative. Filled with remorse and burdened by my conscience, I went home that later that day and wept. Just kidding, I didn’t actually care. Survival of the fittest. 

I’m really tired now. This blog has been a f*cking disaster. I honestly probably would’ve been better off posting my “On Information” tenet because it’s actually coherent, but I doubt anybody would want to read a long a** manifesto about why it is imperative to distinguish between essential and nonessential information as the advent of new technologies dramatically increases our capacity to encode, store, and retrieve information. Whatever. I don’t give a sh*t anymore. I’m going to bed.