NaNoWriMo

Yes, it's that time of year again...Jack-o'-lanterns are out, sweaters are on, and school has been running full speed for at least six weeks. 
You know what that means: "There goes the neighborhood, here comes the debutantes." 
Actually, it means NaNo is here once again. Beginning November 1st, I shall begin my work on my novel, soon to be named. 
The plot synopsis:
"Scipio, cursed to wander the Earth forever, meets, in the year 1909, three travelers on the express train from Berlin to Milan, and forever changes his destiny. 
Of course, at the same time, it triggers a unique chain of events that causes the world to fall into chaos...
And then there fates are finally settled in the Milanese underground."
It's a rough draft, but, hey, it's a draft.

Indiana Jones Has One...

Yes, that's right, I now own my very own satchel/adventure bag! You have no idea how awesome it is because you don't own one, but wish you did. Search your feelings. You know it be true.*
I now plan on using the satchel to take of the world via Internet relays. If you don't want to be eaten by mushrooms, I suggest you declare your undying love of satchels as soon as possible. 


*Okay, different series, but same director...One out of two is good, right?

Flaws

Christianity is all-in-all a pretty good religion, and I believe in most of the stuff the Catechism of the Catholic Church tells me to believe in, but there's one thing I don't like about Christianity: The concept that we're supposed to convert people to it.
I mean, what kind of jerk says to a Muslim boy (solely because he's Muslim): "Your religion is wrong. If you believe in it, you're going to Hell. But if you believe in what I think you should believe in, you'll be saved." I'll tell you what kind of jerk would say that: A Christian.
Jews, Muslims, and Hindus don't really like Christians because Christians are always trying to convert you, whereas they don't give a damn what religion you are. 
Feel free to leave any comments, but please no religious debates. 

Math is Evil

Ironically, I think I did best in the math section of the PSAT.
I don't like math because it makes you cold and analytical. Math is the bane of my existence; I long to make no sense whatsoever.
With English, you don't have to be rational and straightforward. You can do what you wanna do and screw whatever anyone or anything (besides proper grammar, which must always be followed) and pray for the best, because hope is a gift.
Theater is a bit like that, too. You don't have to be yourself, you get to pretend--for once--that you are who you are up on that stage and prance about like you own the place, even when you're being meek as a meercat.
Maybe I'm not getting myself through to you, and if I am, then good for you. But if I'm not, then good me. 

Role Model

Recently I've been on a Tick, Tick...BOOM! by Jonathan Larson (the second most amazing person in the world), my role model.
About that...
Jonathan Larson is my role model because in the face of adversity he persevered, not compromised. He lived his dream, he did what he wanted to do, even though it meant giving up everything else he wanted, even though it meant living in a hole in the ground, even though it meant he had to watch as his friends all settled down and became "successful" in life.
About their success...
It wasn't really that. Success isn't living in the perfect American home, with two kids, a loving wife and a nice car; success is following your dreams wherever they make take you, showing that you don't care what others think, that you are you and you are happy with that! 

PSAT

Today I took the PSAT. It was pretty fun, if you think about it. I got to struggle and in turn watch others struggle. The pathos was way up in there. I should prolly go to the highschool more often, to observe and report. Maybe that's what I'll do later...I mean, after I do whatever it is I want to do.
On that point, I've decided I want to major in English and minor in theater. I think that's the best way to go...But, maybe, then again, all life is superficial, and nothing is anything and vice-versa. Maybe we're stuck where we were meant to be, with no escape.
You know, I should stop being such a pessimist...

True Love, Toilets, and How to Sell Your House

The girl I like (and who likes me) lives in New Jersey, twenty hours away from me, which is very distressing. I've only met her once in real life (meatspace), but that day was the happiest day of my life, literally. I just didn't know it at the time. 
Over the summer (I met her in late June), we used various communication networks and mobile phones to talk to each other, sometimes for hours at a time, and I was happy. 
Then school came along, and I could only talk to her for thirty minutes at a time, and then soccer came, and I was lucky to talk to her once a week.
Just tonight, she was on Facebook for the first time in a long time, and you know what I was doing: Fixing a bloody toilet because we have to sell our house. 
Long story short: Lover I am, Plumber I am not. 

Eliciting a Response

People can be cold, harsh. They learn this...They do it as a self-defense mechanism, to protect themselves from the world...Because people are jerks. They take a person, a child, and rip them open so many times that there isn't anything to do but turn callous. 

Why do we not have to care? People sit by and watch others die and get ripped to shreds in front of them, but, still, they refuse to give a damn. 

Maybe if the world were a warmer place, then we wouldn't have these problems...Maybe if we could all love and be loved, if we didn't have to deal with radicals trying to change things for the worst and conservatives refusing to admit there's something wrong, then we could live in perfect harmony. 

But, of course, we just get caught up in our web of Hell, stuck on the footnote of misery...Because, trust me, misery isn't the point of life. Love is.

And if we don't realize this soon, then the footnote's gonna be bigger than us all. 

J'ai faim!

Right now, I have an innate craving for some cheese curds. Unfortunately, all the Midwestern states are too far away to get too, so I'll be forced to eat old moldy shtuffs.
You know, in France, they love cheese. When (and it's a when, not an if) I go to France, I'm going to go a cafe and order some cheese. It may be the highlight of my trip.
Of course, whilst I'm there, I'm also going to Lourdes (Roman-Catholic, all the way!) so see the sites, and Paris to visit the infamous box five of L'Opera Populaire. Other sites are on my list, too (such as Hugo's grave) and I shall document my adventures via video-camera. I think that would be alright.

Reading Materials

So, this week at the library, I check out a copy of Seduction of the Innocent by Dr. Fredric Wertham, Ph.D, and when my mom sees it, she flips. 

She thinks it's some kind of old trashy romance novel that I shouldn't read. I try to explain to them that it's a sociological-psychological treatise on the effects of comic books on the minds of children, and all I get is a couple of snide remarks. They don't seem to understand that not everyone in this world has a dirty mind, that some of us are quite normal. In one sense of the word.

All that ever happens is I got shot down by some mass cultural delusion that all boys of my age are obsessed with everything vulgar and wrong with this world (the irony I now see). That we aren't people, we're pigs, we're effing swine, unclean and unfit for consumption. 

So, I ask you this, my reader: Is this a tragedy, or is it a farce?