5-14-03-I’m b-a-a-a-ck!
Well, youth legislature is all done. So sad, what a loss. Nothing much to say, not much here to say it with.

Youth group is done. So much to say, so little time. Actually, there isn’t all that much to say, but I can pretend that I have something to say. Think. That’s what it said. Don’t ask me. It wasn’t my idea. But I still do it more than you do, so there! Ha, ha! Of course, on rare occasions thinking is a bad thing, but this isn’t one of those times.

Verses on the way.

Lots of short paragraphs.

So what? It’s not like I have anything to say? I came home, and now I’m here. I slept on the way, and now am awake, for a little while. Soon I’ll return to the world of silence. But not yet. Maybe I should write a paragraph on some topic of some importance. Or not. It’s random stupid stuff again. I don’t care what kind of plane it was. Go away! I’m not listening! Dunce.

Wind. What is it? It blows things, and can not be seen. It is one of the best metaphors for many things, things that are there, but cannot be seen. The effects of it are visible, but the wind itself is hidden.

I get to listen to Spirited Away for the first tine in four days, and get to sleep in my own bed, and do what I want to, without a room full of irritating people joined to another room full or irritating people, connected to a hall full of air. Everything I do is now what I intend to do, though soon I should sleep, because I was tired enough to fall asleep on the bus coming back. This is the first time in four days that I was able to use my computer to write something, and it is very nice. I can also begin to finish my new character.

Three funny things. Wow. No to bed. Sleep well. Am I talking to myself? Oh well. It really doesn’t matter either way, thought I’m not sure what the other way is. So sad. Good night and good bye.

5-10-03-Not much today
Lots of work to be done, not much typing. Leaving. Tomorrow. Ten. Early. Must be ready before then. Or I won’t be ready.

The question of informal vs formal has once again come up. It seems that everyone is sufficiently vague in this area, and what ever one person considers good enough, there is always another that believes it far below the set par. Now I have to figure out what exactly I’m supposed to be wearing in all occasions. Or at least this one.

I want to be able to bamf. It would be the coolest thing, and imagine the fun you could have with it. If someone was irritating, through a collective series of techniques, you could drive them completely insane. Things appear, the disappear, they move around. People come and go, sometimes in an instant, voices say things from all around the room. They go insane.
Definitely a good movie, worth every second.

Things are different, surprises are always the same. No matter what happens, a surprise is always unexpected, and can lead to changes in every direction. Thus, when a surprise happens that is bordering on expected, the change can be even more drastic, because nothing was done to interfere with the expected surprise.

The seconds are rapidly sliding to a close. This day will end, and there will only be a small amount of tomorrow in existence to receive the remainder of the times thoughts. For two days, no thoughts will be recorded, or at least none within this medium. A mock session of the 42nd state’s legislatures will be occurring, as well as a test on the understanding of psychological principals and ideas. This will occupy a majority of the remaining time.

Officially, this day is over, but I won’t end it until I go to sleep, and my mind considers it a new day. So today is both the 10th and the 11th of May. But it will soon breakdown it to only the 11th, and the 10th will be no more. I love the little superscript things on numbers, like the th in 4th, the st in 1st, the nd of 22nd, the rd of 3rd. In the end though, they mean little.

5-9-03-Early for a Friday
I’m home, the computer’s mine, so there is actually words here already, and it’s only five thirty-four. Actually, it should be there are not there is. It’s not my fault. I blame it on the keypad, for being bad.

Now I’m returned, for I had left. I have now seen X-men, and have to say it was a very well but together movie. Nothing about it seemed out of place, and the characters all were within the parameters set out by the creators of the comic books. Through and through, the movie makes sense, the characters have depth, and the special effects are outstanding. A highly noteworthy film.

Just you wate, ‘enry ‘iggins, just you wate. The phonetic spelling of this phrase would be far more complicated, and out of the reach of the font used in this document, though symbols could be imported for certain values, such as ë, or Ç, or À, or Ì. Nothing beats a day spent trying to understand a new phonetic alphabet.

Surprises may be said within these hallowed(or is it hollowed?) pages. One never knows when the next word moo will not be what was expected, or if the next sentence will speak of what the last one did, something unrelated, or something wonderfully surprising. I always spell sentence with an a. If one enters a state of random thought, random writing will miss the point.

Short paragraphs. Lots of them. Here’s one more, shorter than all of the others combined. Even shorter when they’re separate.

I imagined an Irish accent with that last paragraph. It seems to be here too, laddie. I don’t know what’s causing it, but it’s making writing very weird, because I know, no I don’t, but I hear what I’m saying differently than how I would say it, and in an accent that I can’t actually speak, but apparently I can think it. Accents are funny that way. Most people can think of all sorts of accents, from British, to Souther, to Japanese, to Irish, but they are unable to actually speak the words they way they are thinking them, only the way they have always spoken them, for all their years.

So now comes to a close a final day, and English within has not to improve yet. We cry not, for we care not. It’s all a mess, and nothing is best, so I’ll shoot for the moon. I can’t even remember what the last sentence said, much less the idea behind it, so I figure it is nearing the time of day(really night), when one must stop what one has been doing, and move on to what one should and will soon be doing. Guten Nacht.

A note on the following post:
It was interesting deciding whether or not to include the first paragraph(which I did include) because it is actually about me in a literal sense, not just about what thoughts flow through my brain. It was kind of odd, actually presenting the honest to goodness past here.

5-8-03-Like a chat
Meg’s here, so I must go, but return shall I. It’s not often that I write such a short paragraph offset by nothing but a lack of idea, time, and spelling. It’s always the spelling, isn’t it? That’s what I thought.

Physics is not fun. It’s not too hard, though. Mainly I have to deal with stupid calculations and stuff from Chemistry. Oh, joy. My thoughts exactly. Well, duh, you wrote them. I did? Of course, who else would have? You? Well, sure I did too, but I am you. You are? Yep. I didn’t know that. That’s sad. Why? Oh, you’re pathetic. Didn’t you just insult yourself there? Did I? If I’m pathetic, and I’m you, then you’re pathetic. Oops.

Now my calculator do I have, and the final parts of physics can I do. Soon to be done with homework will I be, though much projects remain. School is not of the fun class. And my English isn’t really.

To die, to wake, and to never pass a breath. What was done, will be forgotten, and what has never happened, will be invented and remembered. A shadow of a poet, a playwright, author of renown. Nothing known, nothing gained, and none to loose. All was lost before it was began. Another time, to try. But not here, not now. Never more to be again.

That was almost something like Shakespeare. I referenced him there too. It was hidden, though. Not really, but that’s always a good thing to say. Well, at least it can never hurt your position. Or not too. Depends on my mood. Or lack there of. Off to the days.

Vector diagrams for electricity is evil. I’m still complaining about physics. I’ll move on, eventually. Not know though. Maybe now though. But you don’t know that time has passed. Nyahh!

Random thought hour: Who knows what the frogs do when you’re not looking? They could be planning something akin to world domination, and we would be clue less. Actually, that should be one word.

Things are going out, running down, sliding away. The end of the day has past, and it truly is no longer the eighth of May. The day is more in limbo than solidified. And so it goes, sliding away, slipping down and out, far, far, and to be gone.

5-7-03-Late start
It’s already past nine when this section of writing was begun, and that is late for a Wednesday. “Where truth is lacking, politics fills the gap.” I finally remember that quote. I tried to remember it each time I watched the movie, but each time it eluded my grasp. It is very relevant to any and all occurrences. Well, not all, but it is for a lot of them.

Yellowstone isn’t among the top five national parks visited in the United States. Each of those must then receive more than one million visitors per year. The question then is, are they more visited because more people live within easy access, because they attract those just passing through as a sight for a short stop, or because they truly are liked better. If a survey was taken of National parks as planned destinations of trips, Yosemite, Yellowstone, and a couple of others would top the list.

Is writing solely for the purpose of writing, or is it to convey ideas, relieve stress, get something out of your system, or snort to be irritating? Most people write because they have thoughts and ideas within themselves, and either want to get them out on paper so they can begin to stop thinking about them, or so that others can begin to think about them. The purpose of writing is not to write, but to communicate. Writing that fails to communicate is no more than a random conglomeration of letters that came together with no purpose.

I have spelled something wrong who knows how many times. Almost always, I omit the e from some. The word some really should be pronounced like soom, but instead it’s pronounced like sum. The pronunciation of the English language is quite complex. The th in then is pronounced differently than the th is thin. One is voiced, the other isn’t. Sooner or later the language will simplify itself, but not for many years.

What I write is what I say. Or say I say. I am almost to eighteen-hundred words in this week, and no more to the better, but no worse than before. It could almost be a statement of a lack of ideal, or a lack of intent to say what can be said in better words not found within this document. But it follows more of the lines of free to lack the grammar that is correct. It makes writing easier, though those who must read, whether for pleasure, as required reading, or as a sleeping aid for insomniacs, get lost far quicker than those(who is only one) who write.

Eighteen-twenty-five.

Not much happened then. No big wars, nothing special. Andrew Jackson was president, I think. Or maybe it was Madison. Or Adams. But whoever it was, they didn’t do anything important that year. Nothing important happened that year. Maybe somebody who was going to become important was born, but nothing notable then.

I’m waiting, and seeing nothing. Time for another pair of calenders. Verse and Latin. Maybe I should make an Asor calender for future years. Hmm. . . interesting idea. That deserves more consideration, as do other homemade calender ideas. It’s a cool picture of a couple of mountains in the background with a tiny waterfall occupying the fore. And the other speaks of ethics, or moral philosophy, of something that should be cut and dried, but is being cut up into tiny pieces to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, who then has the choose of doing what with them they please, whether it be keep them functional, or to rearrange all the parts into some twisted and mutated form of the original.

No one else will be within here. Few will be without. Few means less than normal, but only because there are less than normal total. Hectic running around, getting everything ready, still must get more ready. That had nothing to do with what was done. Oh, well. So fun. It hardly matters. Actually, it doesn’t matter at all. So sad.

Um. . .do I post here for no reason? Also, do I actually post here? I'm curious as to whether or not a figmant of imagination can actually do more than pretend to imagine posting. . . yeah.

5-6-03-Grrr.
Calculus is evil. I have three t squared plus t plus four all over t cubed plus t. I am supposed to use partial fractions, but I get B to equal both three and four. It is always supposed to work, no matter what the top variable is as long as it is not an improper fraction, which it isn’t. The leads me to conclude that nothing ever works and I am bordering on Crazy. Or something like that. The system should multiply out to give the desired answers. Possibly t squared plus one has another factor, negative b plus or minus the square root of b squared minus four a c all over two a. -1 + sqr 1 - 4. Opp. It’s negative. Doesn’t work. So why doesn’t the equation? It’s bordering on functionality.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
' GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
' GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

It is making me crazy. Back to work.

Finally it is solved. It was an a plus b, instead of just a. Few. I remember this now. All done with that one, all three to go(actually two, but why spend the time to fix a typo?)

A.P. tests really take up all the time in a week. I’ve been busy, busy, and a little bit busy also. So much for time beyond time. Or at least beyond work. Time beyond time sounds like a good title for a book or documentary or something. “Time Beyond Time: The tale of the search for the oldest time.” Or not.

All done with psych. Math is still evil, but it is now behind me. Literally. I’ll have to get to it later. But now I am talking to friends with out the s. And writing things. But I have to be writing things to be writing this. Writing other things. Words, and essays, and treatises, and poems, and prose, and thoughts, and scripts, and comments, and jokes, and tragedies. But it is all still writing, but.

Surveys can at times be taxing, but they can also provide an interesting look into people’s minds, and the thoughts that shape them. Even the simplest question, if worded correctly, can allow someone to understand much more about the questions responder.

What is humor and why is it funny? I could say random things in the middle of this squid sentence, but would it be funny, and does being funny automatically quack make it humor? Or is humor something deeper than simply laughter? Most of the best comedians connect with their audiences bark in more ways than simply making them laugh. They provide a look at life and oneself from the outside, where all one’s follies and mistakes become, not embarrassing, but humorous, and worth repeating. When they tell a story about themselves, it is no longer about them, but it is about all the people who have ever done the same stupid thing, and lived to admit it. An anecdote, transformed into humor, transcends a mere human moment, meow, and becomes a story to all people, with the capability to teach and to heal.

On a less serious note of humor(*shrug*), modern comedy has often lost a lot with the transition to movies. People now look for slapstick humor as much as wit, and the wit is wittier than the hit. Puns are the lowest, and highest, form of humor, just above the radial. Great comics like Shakespeare and Shaw are on the downswing, having suffered the uppercut of slapstick. How much to play an open manhole? Just the cover charge. Then why don’t you drop in sometime? Sewer. See? That’s funny, and no physical contact, or contact of any kind was involved.

To not like cats should be a crime. To not own one is even worse. If you have allergies, some cats cause very little reaction, and there are meds. I’ll get one as soon as I can. So there is all for cats, because I can’t think of anything else beyond how to spell of.

Who will read this? Will they read it high? Will they read it low? Will they read it in between? Who will read it Sam-I-Know? Will they read it near? Will they read it here? Will they read it far? Will they read it there? Will the read it right? Will they read it wrong? Will they read it as if it were a song? What’s wrong with Dr Seuss? Okay, fine. But you’ll be hearing from my lawyer! Both of them! And I’ll hire a third one before the day is over! And you’ll be sorry! They’ll run you out of house and home And Stay Here While I AM TALKING TO YOU! HEY WHERE ARE YOU GOING! GET BACK HERE!!!! Whoa, almost lost my cool there. If you are opposed to Dr Seuss, my attorneys will meet with you. Better have your checkbook handy.

To fly like a bird, born on the breath of the trees, touching the far stars of the knight’s sky, bourn out on wings like eagles. And to away they go.

Chapter 17: I’m not sure what happened to the other moo sixteen chapters, but I’m sure they’ll turn up before the printing date, or at least the release date. They’re not critically important to the plot. Chapter seventeen has the conclusion, by far the most important part in any story. The rest is just details, but they say God is in the details. Well, we should be looking for God, for there we shall find the details, and the other sixteen chapters. Or a dozen and a third chapters. Whatever floats your dingy.

To night, to sleep. Away from here. Good bye.

Those that attack are often the weakest. People who attack God are often those who most want to know truth, and try to discover it by looking for the flaws in it. The tout what appears to be a mistake, and use it against it. As there arguments are pointed out to be wrong, the slowly begin to understand, and make their way to the truth.

Comedy involving physics. Shuddering, now. To be for truth shall I go, to sleep is in the plan. Farewell, and good bye. Edelweiss.