I Like to Rant About Unrelated Subjects.

Books are long. Especially ones without pictures. Just giant text walls. Yeah sure, they help you learn things and whatnot, but by raising myself on the internet I developed a short attention span to things that aren't flashy video games or stupidly humored YouTube videos. I miss the times as a kid when I was completely content sitting outside petting my great grandparents' farm cats for hours, or running around beating the hell out of trees with miscellaneous rusted iron objects I found stashed away on an old trailer bed outside (they should have been discarded instead of salvaged from that time, decades ago, that the farm shed burned down and Grampa still thought it was a good idea to keep everything that was in the shed even though it was mostly trash at that point. I think everyone who was alive during the Great Depression is a natural-born hoarder), training myself to be the greatest warrior in the world. That was my goal as a kid. Growing up watching shows like Dragonball Z, Tenchi Muyo!, Powerpuff Girls, Samurai Jack... (you get the idea) I began to admire their abilities, their stamina, their "coolness." Being able to kick ass and defend yourself defined "coolness" when I was a kid. Masters of martial arts were the shit and a half to a kid like me, so I joined Tae Kwon Do. Or however you spell it. I think that's right, though. Tae Kwon Do was fun for me. I got to kick giant stuffed practicing things, punch mid-air all flashy and stuff, and watch professional martial artists combat right before my eyes. I made it all the way to getting a yellow stripe on my belt (that was the epic first advancement. They took yellow electrical tape and wrapped it around a little part of the noobie white belt to make you feel awesome until you realize you're still not even above actual yellow belts), but for some reason decided to quit. I don't in particular remember why, but my mother told me it's because I complained about it all the time and eventually I came to the conclusion that my amazing hidden talents were better utilized elsewhere (elsewhere being my Gameboy). Later I found out that the instructor felt I was the best in the class, and couldn't wait for my return. What a fool I was! But I suppose I was feeling unappreciated (at least I think I felt unappreciated. I don't know, it was like ten years ago, back off), bored with the basic moves I was spoonfed alongside all of the kids who were only there because their parents were paranoid from watching too many Law & Order: Special Victims Unit episodes where kids get kidnapped right out of playgrounds and could've survived "if only they new some form of self defense." Such as martial arts, or how to hold a can of mace. Not that mace should be given to children. You know how kids are.
Example Girl 1: "That boy stole my candy!"
Example Teacher 1: "Well what do you do about it then?"
Example Girl 1: "MACE THAT MOTHERF-CKER" *As she proceeds to pull a can of mace out of her My Little Pony lunchbox and spray the shit out of the kid who stole her candy*
That wouldn't go over well in classrooms. Then again, I don't know why that girl would be eating candy for lunch. Unless she's a huge brat and has some of those push-over parents who bend to any will of their child just so they stop screaming in the middle of the grocery store because they can't have a package of f-cking Pop Rocks or whatever candy children obsess over these days. Probably Miley Cyrus bubble gum or something awful like that. That girl should be eating some carrots or another horrible-tasting health food. Then the boy never would've taken her food and he never would have been maced. Problem solved. The moral of the story is that children should be forced to eat healthier. There are too many fat twelve year olds eating nothing but nachos and playing online games for half of the day, wasting away their life trolling on twenty-somethings about how they "banged their girlfriend (or mom) last night" but then proceed to tell them they're "a total homo" and other contradictory things of that nature. I think that's a good place to stop for the night. Sayonara.

I Gave Up on Fashion...

... a long, long time ago. I don't understand it. The other day I walked into Wet Seal and saw an employee wearing bright red high heels and a lime green dress. Tell me how that makes sense. Actually, don't. I don't care, I don't want to know. Fashion is great for those who are willing to dress up every day and want to look nice or edgy or elite, but to me fashion is boring. Runways make no sense. You don't see normal girls walking around weighing 75 lbs. when they're over their teens. Unless they have some kind of disorder then it's completely excusable and it's none of my business, but those anorexic/bulimic girls need some freaking help.

Anyway, I don't "get" fashion. I watched the Devil Wears Prada like four times and still learned nothing. She works at a fashion design-y place and after working there for a month (I don't know they didn't give a good timeline example) she adapts to all the ins and outs of fashion and impresses her high-powered angryface bitch of a boss who then offers her some job or something. I can't believe someone would learn to "style" herself that quickly. Regardless, I offer nothing of my self to wearing clothing that matches. I wear what I think looks nice. And if that means walking around in a Thundercats or Zelda T-shirt and a pair of shitty knock-off Converse I've worn for the last six years, so be it. (And you wouldn't believe the mad props I get from nerds. One even held a door open for me once. How neat is that?) My most common attire is a T-shirt showing off a video game or giving a TV show reference and a pair of old jeans, or one of my odd flowy hippie-style outfits. For some reason I love bohemian-y hippie clothing. And I'm sure that's not even what they're categorized as, that's how bad I am at this whole "fashion" thing. But who cares? I don't really give a darn what people think about my outfits so screw it, you know? Because there is absolutely no way you will see me with orange skin and platinum white hair in a pair of cherry heels and a lime green dress. Eff that.

I Like to Stare at Things

Usually it isn't intentional, but I love staring. Not just at people, but at like random stuff. Such as walls, or the floor, or birds hopping around outside; anything that keeps my attention or happens to be in my line of vision when my mind temporarily shuts off, really. Unfortunately for me, this usually ends with me embarrassing myself by getting caught staring at people. Today I was tired. Super tired. It could pretty much be categorized as "wanting to just fall over and gladly sleep on the meat-, vegetable-, and bread crumb-littered tile floor of my workplace while all of the customers stare, aghast, and my coworkers contemplate alerting an ambulance" tired. I was caught staring at an old lady--twice. Aside from the misunderstanding that she thought I was mad at her (my brow was furrowed in what I like to call anti-thought, the complete absence of any mind activity), it was quickly apologized for and moved on from. The only truly blush-worthy staring moment of today was at a stoplight.

Stoplights are infamous to me as places at which eye contact should never be obtained with anyone near you, regardless of if that person is in a vehicle, on rollerblades, walking (bicycles I exclude from this because nothing is more rewarding than when the light turns green and instead of pounding the gas pedal and ramming into said bicyclist, you politely shoo them on with a hand gesture. In that small frame of a moment when they return eye contact and nod, wave, or smile in appreciation, everything you did for them was worth it)... but you catch my drift. Anyway, I was at a red light when another car was turning left in the opposite direction. The entire time she was turning, my eyes were locked onto her. I think it was the fact that she wasn't wearing makeup (while still being absolutely beautiful), and she had dreads.

At the moment I have a slight obsession with dreadlocks (I'm literally clueless as to why, they feel like straw and people who don't know how to properly care for them walk around smelling like dog piss), especially considering the only reason I'm watching the Glee Project right now is because of that amazingly sexy Samuel.

But back on topic. I stared at her for the entirety of her turning. Then suddenly, half way through her turn, she looked back at me. Shit. She saw me. She thinks I'm a creeper. Or a jerk. Because it isn't easily assumed in rural North Dakota that a girl is anything but straight so her first assumption must be that I am staring in disapproval of her assumed lifestyle (dreads make people think you're a huge stoner around here), which is completely untrue, she was gorgeous and my eyes wouldn't let me stop gazing. But, as if the skies opened a warm ray of love and understanding upon said dreads girl, she smiled at me. And I blushed. Of course I smiled back immediately, but it was my awkward half-smile out of the corner of my mouth that houses a humble piercing just below my bottom lip. A tiny silver star with a little cubic zirconia in the center. We kept eye contact for a second, give or take, and she was off. Being the stalker type I mentally noted that she drives a green Buick (I noticed the Buick layout right away, being as I own one). Oh, green Buick-driving girl with dreads and the breath-taking smile... I hope I run into you in a stuffy hipster coffeeshop some day.


... I also like using giant unnecessary text walls to explain very short, simple occurrences. You'll get used to it.

Writing an Introduction Sucks

I'm terrible with first impressions. Ask any one I've met in the last nineteen years of my life and they will tell you I am awkward. Not only that, but I'm anti-social and my face turns red when someone addresses me. All of that aside, this is the internet, and being yourself (or someone else if you're into role-playing) is always so much easier when you can hide behind a computer screen. Here's a few things about myself:

I like to rant and rage a lot. As a result, you should never take the things I say too seriously.

I don't like most people. I'm most comfortable sitting in my apartment watching TV than out interacting in the real world.

I like playing video games and MMOs, but I'm terrible at most of them. At the moment I'm trying to get a WoW account set up.

I volunteer at an animal shelter. It's about the only productive thing I do during the day.

Food is the best thing ever. With the amount and kind of food I eat on a regular basis, it's amazing I'm not 500 pounds.

I have one tattoo. No I will not tell you what or where it is.

I work at a submarine sandwich shop. No it's not Subway. But we often get begrudgingly mistaken for it.

My internet is a big C-word. For the company's sake I won't share who the provider is, but at the moment its awful connection is preventing me from opening anything in my email account. When I get switched over or find another computer, I plan on adding plenty of pictures and vlog entries to this page.

As a sort of disclaimer, my sense of humor obviously isn't for everyone. I'm not forcing you to read my blog. If you don't want to read it, gtfo, don't message me and bitch about it. If you like it, save it in your browser or follow me or something.

And that's my first entry! Yaaay me! :D