Topics

SO.
School's kicking my ass.
Found this hipster site named Tumblr that has (in it's own special way) become a new 4-chan.
Started doing photography.
Got a girlfriend.
Then suddenly remembered that during the summer I joined a Discordian forum
and decided to come on.

I missed all of you.
My life's been empty ('cause I'm a loser).

I was fiddling around on Facebook when my friend, Felicia, happened to start a discussion with me about Twilight and how a lot of people have been saying that it's better than Harry Potter. We eventually get to the author itself, Stephanie Meyer. This is basically whatshe said, and I think it's a pretty good point:

During California's Prop 8 (for anyone who doesn't know, California had legalized gay marriage in 2008 - Prop 8 was the proposition that overturned that decree and banned gay marriage from California once more - the Mormon church, to which Stephanie Meyer is HEAVILY involved in, contributed GREATLY to ensuring Prop 8 was passed and gay marriage in California was no more), Stephanie Meyer donated at least 10 percent of all her profits from Twilight, to the Mormon Church. It is safe to say, she was a powerful asset in determining the outcome of that election and ensuring gay marriage was banned. I have no respect for an author who uses their profits from their writing to discriminate against people's sexual orientations, and broadening from that, anyone who discriminates against gender, race, etc.

I have many gay, bisexual, and lesbian friends who love Twilight - I'm sure there are several open and closeted homosexuals in this group who love Twilight as well thousands around the earth. I for one, kind of liked the reading when I was in Middle School, but completely disregarded it's worth when learning this information. How can a person respect an author and her work when the very people who read it and support her are the people she cannot stand or accept? That to me, is ridiculous, and completely hypocritical and close-minded of an author and her choices of where her money from the series' profits go. It is utter bigotry, old-world, and completely hypocritical.

The point? J. K. Rowling is people friendly and a compassionate person (clearly evident by her support to include a homosexual in her work, as one of the most inspiring, wise, and developed characters in literature, Professor Dumbledore - and her loving acceptance of her characters and others in reality), where as Stephanie Meyer is discriminatory and close-minded, clearly only looking out for her own pocket and her own beliefs as a Mormon, and not valuing the lives of her readers. You might think Twilight is better than Harry Potter, but all books stem from the authors that pen them - the story starts at the heart and mind of the writer - and in no way can Twilight EVER in any way, shape, or form, exceed the evolved thinking, positive attitudes, educational experiences, and true heart for humanity, that Harry Potter and its author exemplifies time and time again within each page turn, when Twilight's own message starts at the dark core of its hideous author.

[brrrrrrrrrrr]

We all had a plan today. We stood up half the night for that plan, some of us restless, some of us dreaming about what we were going to do. It was sound, almost perfect, and we were all so excited that we could almost taste the glory of this day.

I got up earlier than I usually did (which was around eleven-o'-clock. I usually end up waking up around six in the evening, or maybe three in the afternoon...it all depended), washed up very quickly--since I was about to get left--, got dressed, and walked out the door to get in the car. It was cramped, as always. My parents called it the Jesusmobile because some man from church happened to 'give' us the old piece of shit. When you start it, it sputters and groans and you could hear it countries away. It reminds me of a swarm of bees, or maybe angry, constipated mosquitoes. The steering wheel is a safety hazard (as it shifts loosely from side to side) and the radio is missing (has been since we got it), and the only thing good about it is that it had air conditioning....barely.

It was hot as fuck outside. My folks rolled down the windows so that the wind would blow into my ears, and I'd have to shout at the top of my lungs over the brrrrrrrrrrr of the Jesusmobile just to tell them that I was excited about today.

What was happening? Money.

We were going to the bank because it seems that we have overpaid our mortgage this year, and the bank sent us the difference. It ended up being a good 3,000, a few hundreds, and some change. We were excited. We needed this. We needed this.

But there was a problem. My father got his Driver's Licence suspended, and his name was on the check. So the only way we could possibly get the check cashed was to get him a new ID. We were on our way to the DMV, determined to get this done so we could go back and get everything settled. When we get there, we set down his birth certificate and social security card down at the desk where a rather portly lady sat. She has a distinct 'Hoosier' accent with a radio that played Miley Cyrus in the background. After photo-copying the documents and calling my father 'hon' about fifty times, she took his photo and was ready to get all the information put on the card...which was to be sent to Downtown and mailed to us, where we would get a paper that would be our 'temporary' ID for him until we got the real thing in the mail.

"There's a problem, hon," she said in mid-process. "Your birth certificate don't match up with y'er social."

We all looked dumbfounded. How the hell could that be right? Everything has always worked before, all his information always matched up. My father looked pissed, and we were all wishing the woman wouldn't fool around any more.

"It shows that y'er birth certificate only says that you are Leslie Turner, whereas y'er social says that your name is Leslie Allen Turner. Did you get a name change...?"

He soon turned quiet and almost meek. Childlike even. He tried to play off his confusion with a tiny chuckle. "Nope, my mother just told me when I was old enough to understand that my name was Leslie Allen Turner. That's all."

"Well it says here that y'are just Leslie Turner. No Allen, no 'A'. So we won't be able t' give you an ID. Y'er gunna have to either go see if there's a mistake--which ain't likely--or you're going to have to go to th' Department of Social Services, hon, an' tell them that they made a mistake on y'er name. But even then, it's gon' take at least a whole twenty-four hours to take care a' that."

And then there was the expression that I haven't seen my father hold before. It was the kind of expression that--after a long sixty-one years of life--this man suddenly didn't know who he was for a single moment. That expression was severely heart-breaking, for it was blank, eyes glazed over with this tint of certain sorrow.

We went home today, money-less and confused.

I said, "Dad, you're still Leslie Allen to me."

"Me, too," he murmured. "Me, too."



TL;DR

My dad found out he had no middle name. We get no money. Sad day.

So whilst I fuck around with it, anyone want me to make a Sim of them?

Or someone they don't like and send them into the pool, take out the ladder and let them die there?
Or set them on fire?
Or something like that...?


I don't know.


(Btw, I'm not sure this belongs here, but I don't know where else it should be.)

[Not even me]

Oh, friend. You aren't fooling anyone any more, sprawled on the floor, lacquering up your fingernails in vibrant  colours (WHICH IN FACT don't exactly match your personality) to hide the damage you nervously afflict them much like you do to your soul (that is, if you have one any more). I've watched them all violate you, move through your transparency.

Frankly, there really isn't anything I can offer, friend, except that you aren't fooling anyone any more.


Not even me.



Sincerely,

Jade, the girl who won't play the fool any more.

[AND PLAN TO GO AGAINST HIM VERY SOON]

Maybe a little old, but still funny to me. How can someone be completely against President Obama, and have completely different views--AND PLAN TO GO AGAINST HIM VERY SOON--turn around and use almost the exact, same speech?

[make it seem as though there were no wounds at all]

I want someone, someone who will kiss me to sleep, and wipe away my tears when I'm sad--but I don't just want anyone, because anyone is easy. I want someone just for me, because I am selfish. I want someone who will not heal me, but instead make it seem as though there were no wounds at all. Maybe it's impossible, I know. I know nobody is like that any more. But if nobody is the somebody for me, then I will settle for nobody. Even though I am screaming, and even though I wake up with no hope, I spend hour after hour dreaming and wishing, that my Nobody will find me.

Will he? Will she?

I'm scared, but this time, there is no superhero. I am on my own, and I will die. Humans are so busy, talking so fast, that they do not care for anyone but themselves. Nobody will hear me. It is reminiscent of space. It is only nobody, my somebody, who will come to my rescue.

Maybe nobody is the only somebody for me, but I don't care. I love nobody, and nobody loves me. I am reminiscent of a dead wind, and I don't mind. For I will wait for nobody.

My nobody...

Hey guys, since there is, well, an RPG board here, and people talk about video games and tabletop games, what about the interwebs? Any of you play MMORPGs around here? If so, what?


(I'd like to maybe play with you guys, maybe.)

I got bored one day on Wikipedia, dully clicking on the 'random article' button at about fifty miles per hour. Eventually came across this place---well, not this place but the path to this place.

Eventually I found you people. People of intelligence that I admire, and perhaps in the back of my mind envy. So Ii indulged in the quiet laughs and strong truths that were told, eventually wanting to come out of the obscurity of my lurkings and perhaps find people who actually could give me that little light that I did not have on my own.

To be accepted this far is great, but where would this lead me?