Showing posts with label journality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journality. Show all posts
Saturday, January 23, 2010
I went to see a REPO! Shadowcasting yesterday. With my mother.
Never do this. Ever again.
Not unless my mother miraculously changes personalities.
Not to say it was a disaster, but it wasn't as smooth as I thought it would be.
We arrived 5 minutes later than the dictated opening time, passing various groups of people on the way. It took about one minute to get from the train station to the theatre, but it intrigued me how different everything is at night.
The smell.
The look.
The sounds.
Mother and I passed by a few cybergoths and punks.
A girl in huge platform shoes with striped socks and menacing ponytails, looking like she was bored. Another girl looking similar in expression and garb, but almost as if she were stalking prey, perhaps some kind of rush for the night. A rave? Probably not. But there was something there, something that she wanted.
We arrived at the theater. The line was moving slowly, so I was able to observe the many types of fans there that night. People dressed up. People dressed down. People just dressed, like they made a last-minute decision to go to the show. Then it was there. The thick feeling of dormant excitement. Someone famous was nearby.
Darren Lynn Bousman. He was huddled with a slim blonde and Spooky Dan. I was practically blinded by Spooky's video camera. He was most likely shooting footage for his next documentary. They all looked...busy. I didn't want to bother them. My mother told me to ask for a picture, but I refused. I didn't want to interrupt whatever was going on.
We passed them a second time, and he was smoking. Again, I didn't want to bother the man.
Mom and I went inside, took our seats. He passed us in the aisle not once, but twice.
He took his seat not much later...three rows behind us.
I'll never forgive myself...until RRT4.
Never do this. Ever again.
Not unless my mother miraculously changes personalities.
Not to say it was a disaster, but it wasn't as smooth as I thought it would be.
We arrived 5 minutes later than the dictated opening time, passing various groups of people on the way. It took about one minute to get from the train station to the theatre, but it intrigued me how different everything is at night.
The smell.
The look.
The sounds.
Mother and I passed by a few cybergoths and punks.
A girl in huge platform shoes with striped socks and menacing ponytails, looking like she was bored. Another girl looking similar in expression and garb, but almost as if she were stalking prey, perhaps some kind of rush for the night. A rave? Probably not. But there was something there, something that she wanted.
We arrived at the theater. The line was moving slowly, so I was able to observe the many types of fans there that night. People dressed up. People dressed down. People just dressed, like they made a last-minute decision to go to the show. Then it was there. The thick feeling of dormant excitement. Someone famous was nearby.
Darren Lynn Bousman. He was huddled with a slim blonde and Spooky Dan. I was practically blinded by Spooky's video camera. He was most likely shooting footage for his next documentary. They all looked...busy. I didn't want to bother them. My mother told me to ask for a picture, but I refused. I didn't want to interrupt whatever was going on.
We passed them a second time, and he was smoking. Again, I didn't want to bother the man.
Mom and I went inside, took our seats. He passed us in the aisle not once, but twice.
He took his seat not much later...three rows behind us.
I'll never forgive myself...until RRT4.
Friday, January 22, 2010
This morning I got an invitation to a group with a title along the lines of "WE WILL NEVER DENY GOD, WE WILL NEVER TAKE THE V-CHIP!" or something equally as obnoxious as that. This seriously confused me, considering the fact that a V-Chip is something that allows parents to control what their children watch on television. And what god-fearing christian wouldn't want total control over their hatchlings?
So I decided to investigate by first ignoring the invitation (because I knew immediately that this wouldn't be something I'd want to be part of) and snooping around the info/pictures section to see what they really meant. It turns out they're talking about the VeriChip.
So there's this whole thing about how it's the mark of the beast, blah, blah, blah, SHUT THE FUCK UP.
Listen, I think it's nice that you're showing some common interest again, hxc christians. But seriously? Why can't you be reasonable when you do it?
I can hear it now. "Quit bashing christians as a whole. Not all of us are like that." You know how I know you're gonna say that? Because I'm one of the people who says this all the time. But now I just can't bother. I can't bother to defend people who won't think hard about something before they make a statement.
I mean it's one thing if you don't want to be tracked, but relating this to the mark of the beast is something completely different.
So I decided to investigate by first ignoring the invitation (because I knew immediately that this wouldn't be something I'd want to be part of) and snooping around the info/pictures section to see what they really meant. It turns out they're talking about the VeriChip.
So there's this whole thing about how it's the mark of the beast, blah, blah, blah, SHUT THE FUCK UP.
Listen, I think it's nice that you're showing some common interest again, hxc christians. But seriously? Why can't you be reasonable when you do it?
I can hear it now. "Quit bashing christians as a whole. Not all of us are like that." You know how I know you're gonna say that? Because I'm one of the people who says this all the time. But now I just can't bother. I can't bother to defend people who won't think hard about something before they make a statement.
I mean it's one thing if you don't want to be tracked, but relating this to the mark of the beast is something completely different.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
If there's ever a time i'm upset, it's today.
Why can't some people just shut up and start listening? Or why can't people ask questions that don't paint me into a dark corner with a bright red "X" on the floor? The sandbag's ready to fall on-- wait. There it is. It's already been cut. I'm squashed. The sandbag says "YOU DON'T MATTER, AND NEVER WILL". Is it true? Probably not. But since I can't say much from under this gargantuan burlap sack, nobody'll know.
Well cut me up and salt me down.
I don't think I'll stay around.
I'll bleed on your fresh sweet face
Nail your feet right into place
Keep it up I'll beat you down
Convince me to cut around
The veins that pump the venom blood
It's sickening how quickly the negativity can spread. One thing falls, and before you know it you're thinking about things that don't make sense. Everything kinda tumbles out onto the floor...the dirty laundry, the old papers, the dirty plates, they're all in a steaming heap and you no longer know what's what, who's who, and why there are chicken bones on your favourite sweater.
Then it starts stewing. You're making Sweet 'n' Sour Old Chicken Sweater-and-Jean Soup with missing english journal entries for garnishing. I'm going to try my best not to let my room get messy tonight.
On another note, the day at least started off well. Much like the past three to four days have. I get on the bus, and like a shining beacon of light, Rob's there up in the back as usual. It takes Try #2 to get eye contact to be made, but at least I didn't have to stray past a Third and call over to him.
I sat beside him. Thank whatever higher entities exist that it wasn't overly awkward. But that's thanks to the fact that we still had a quasi-continuing conversation going on at the time.* We converse a bit, then I take out the band log.* I, yet again, get positive feedback. There's a bit of a lull in the conversation a few more times, but he breaks the tension by playing something from Cannibal Corpse out loud and slowly moving it closer to the ear of the person sitting directly in front of me. Then he goes "I don't do stupid shit when I'm by myself, just so you know."
You see? The day wasn't that bad. I had pizza for lunch.
I kinda/sorta/almost fell asleep in French.
Mediocre day I guess.
Then, as I paced up and down a small stretch of Kipling between my school and the other one, I saw him and her, and I kept repeating to myself "Everything happens for a reason," in my head. Which is true. Everything does happen for a reason. I was pondering for a short time, and I felt a dead part of me wanting to cry...but I didn't. I was happy for them. I have to change my behaviour in order to feel better. And I'll do just that. I'll keep myself distracted.
Pretty boy
Nice hair
Go away
Leave me
Maybe we'll
Talk again
'Nother day
Find a way to keep it to myself
I want some help.
He makes me happy. And like that show said, we have history. But we were just meant to be together in a different way. Which is why I should be happy for my friend.
Why can't some people just shut up and start listening? Or why can't people ask questions that don't paint me into a dark corner with a bright red "X" on the floor? The sandbag's ready to fall on-- wait. There it is. It's already been cut. I'm squashed. The sandbag says "YOU DON'T MATTER, AND NEVER WILL". Is it true? Probably not. But since I can't say much from under this gargantuan burlap sack, nobody'll know.
Well cut me up and salt me down.
I don't think I'll stay around.
I'll bleed on your fresh sweet face
Nail your feet right into place
Keep it up I'll beat you down
Convince me to cut around
The veins that pump the venom blood
It's sickening how quickly the negativity can spread. One thing falls, and before you know it you're thinking about things that don't make sense. Everything kinda tumbles out onto the floor...the dirty laundry, the old papers, the dirty plates, they're all in a steaming heap and you no longer know what's what, who's who, and why there are chicken bones on your favourite sweater.
Then it starts stewing. You're making Sweet 'n' Sour Old Chicken Sweater-and-Jean Soup with missing english journal entries for garnishing. I'm going to try my best not to let my room get messy tonight.
On another note, the day at least started off well. Much like the past three to four days have. I get on the bus, and like a shining beacon of light, Rob's there up in the back as usual. It takes Try #2 to get eye contact to be made, but at least I didn't have to stray past a Third and call over to him.
I sat beside him. Thank whatever higher entities exist that it wasn't overly awkward. But that's thanks to the fact that we still had a quasi-continuing conversation going on at the time.* We converse a bit, then I take out the band log.* I, yet again, get positive feedback. There's a bit of a lull in the conversation a few more times, but he breaks the tension by playing something from Cannibal Corpse out loud and slowly moving it closer to the ear of the person sitting directly in front of me. Then he goes "I don't do stupid shit when I'm by myself, just so you know."
You see? The day wasn't that bad. I had pizza for lunch.
I kinda/sorta/almost fell asleep in French.
Mediocre day I guess.
Then, as I paced up and down a small stretch of Kipling between my school and the other one, I saw him and her, and I kept repeating to myself "Everything happens for a reason," in my head. Which is true. Everything does happen for a reason. I was pondering for a short time, and I felt a dead part of me wanting to cry...but I didn't. I was happy for them. I have to change my behaviour in order to feel better. And I'll do just that. I'll keep myself distracted.
Pretty boy
Nice hair
Go away
Leave me
Maybe we'll
Talk again
'Nother day
Find a way to keep it to myself
I want some help.
He makes me happy. And like that show said, we have history. But we were just meant to be together in a different way. Which is why I should be happy for my friend.
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