Will be gone for the next two weeks

Unfortunately, I will more than likely be unable to post for the next two weeks. I'm moving into my new place and I won't have Internet set up until then :(

Will be gone for two days!

Argh! I'm going to be gone for two days, and won't have access to Internet :( This sucks. I shall return though!

And hello to my new readers :)

The Hard Way

*Was supposed to do this yesterday! Eek, late again, bad Vincent.*

5. What life lesson did you learn the hard way?

My love for Tiffany was like eating Taco Bell; an awesome idea while you're drunk or high, a terrible, gut-wrenching, vomit inducing one when you sobered up.  

Tiffany wasn't exactly what one would consider ugly by any means, but even at a glance there was something off about her. If you were around her long enough, eventually you started to realize what made her 'different' from more girls. Her nose holes were different sizes, for one thing. And I don't mean one was slightly bigger than the other, I mean one was a pebble and the other was a boulder. Next, her eyes were so far apart that it looked like the only thing keeping them from falling off her face was the hair that framed it. Speaking of hair, hers looked far too perfect. You're probably asking me what's wrong with that. The answer I would give you, dear reader, is nothing... if her hair had been real. I always wondered why I never saw a hair out of place, and it always looked so perfect and shiny. Turns out she was wearing a wig. The last off-putting thing was the way she breathed. I don't know if it was due to her abnormal nose holes or what, but she breathed like she was Darth Vader's daughter. 


As bad as I'm making it sound, Tiffany's outside appearance wasn't the reason I compared her to eating Taco Hell. At age 16, she actually looked closer to 20. Her eyes, while far apart, were big, beautiful green jewels that sparkled whenever she smiled. Her big, pouty lips overshadowed her abnormal nose, and her very real (and very huge ) breasts more than made up for her fake hair. 

All the little wonders

*This was supposed to be written Sunday*

4. What gets you excited about life?

In one word, discovery. I love how we, as humans, have discovered so much and yet at the same time we haven't even begun to scratch the surface. We constantly strive to learn more, and every day someone out there is making some type of discovery, be it a small one or one that will change the world. It's just so weird and mind blowing to think about all the things we, as the human race, have discovered and created since we have existed. 

Right now, I'm chewing gum. Most will probably wonder how a piece of gum could be interesting. For me, it's thinking that some one out there either discovered this material by mistake, or they activity set out to create it. Either may, this yummy and chewy invention wasn't something we can just plant and have, someone had to discover a material, flavor it, and add or omit things to make it what it is today. We can chew it for enjoyment or to cover up our bad breath, it can whiten our teeth or stain our mouths for fun. When I try to explain this thought to people, they either don't understand or don't care. I wish I was better at explaining why simple things actually aren't so simple when you think about it, and I mean really think about it. 

There is this scene in the move American Beauty where one of the characters is practically orgasming over a plastic bag floating in the wind. He goes on about how beautiful it is, and how God is speaking to him about it. Although the scene was meant to be serious, most people laugh at it and say it's a very stupid scene. 

My Mantra

I missed Saturday and Sunday, so today I'm going to try and write 3 word prompts to make up for it. Hopefully that won't be too redundant, I just really want to stick with a challenge and actually complete it, for once in my life. I tend to either half ass things or just simply give up, and I really don't want that to happen this time. 

3. What’s the most sensible thing you’ve ever heard someone say?

Whether it was just genetics or growing up in a dysfunctional house, lots of things made me get upset easily and often. The simplest thing, such as not being able to tie my shoes correctly, would have me cussing and highly irritated. Usually, my anger would abate as quickly as it came, but still, it was pretty alarming at how easily frustrated I could become at the drop of a hat.

My grandma was the only person in my family that was never angry. She's no longer on this planet, but when she was, I can't recall seeing her get upset once. I remember one time she burnt her hand on the stove, and even then she didn't get upset, and she had every right to. I remember gasping and freaking out for her, all while she just calmly put her hand under the tap and said "Vincent, would you please go into the bathroom and fetch me the gauze? Thank you."

After she let her hand stay under water for about fifteen minutes, she simply applied some burn cream on the wound and wrapped it up, then went back to cooking dinner as if nothing had happened. To her, it was nothing more than a small interruption. To me, it was the day I really saw my grandma as strong and level headed woman.

A year or so later, I was staying at her house fishing. She had a big lake in her backyard, and during the summer I would always stand at the edge of it, throwing stones and fishing while my grandma cooked dinner or cleaned the house. On this particular day, she was fishing with me so we would have something to eat that night. I had been trying to catch a fish for around an hour, and I hadn't gotten so much as a nibble, which was causing me to become increasingly frustrated. My grandma, on the other hand, had already caught quite a few fish, all while humming away and looking serene. Just as I was about to give up, my hands started vibrating; a fish was chewing on the bait!

Compare and Contrast

Continuing the 365 Thought Provoking Questions Challenge. 


2. Who do you sometimes compare yourself to?

His name was Teddy, but everyone called him Nimrod. 

I first met Teddy when I went to the bathroom in an attempt to skip out of running a mile for PE class. I barricaded myself in a stall and noticed there were a pair of tennis shoes in the stall next to me. I figured they would leave eventually, but after a few minutes they didn't move and I didn't hear any straining grunts to indicate the poor sap was seriously ill.

I put my ear on the stall wall. "You okay in there?" I asked.

I saw the shoes shift ever so slightly. "Uh, yeah?"

"Are you constipated?"

"No."

I frowned. "Then what are you doing in there?"

"What are you doing?"

I paused. "Skipping PE."

A pause from the mysterious tennis shoes. "Huh. Me too."

At that moment, a small bond had formed. "Sweet."

I saw the shoes shift slightly and heard whoever they belonged to unlocking the stall door and opening it. I followed suit.

When I stepped out of the stall and saw him for the first time, I realized we were skipping PE for two totally different reasons. I was skipping PE  because I was lazy and simply didn't feel like running. Teddy was so awkward and nerdy looking that he might as well had been wearing a sign that said "I'm skipping PE because I don't want to get bullied".

365 Thought Provoking Questions Challenge

I tried looking for a daily writing challenge, but I couldn't find any decent ones. This 365 Thought Provoking Questions Challenge was the best I could find. I'm going to try and answer them in story format in an attempt to further my writing skillz.

Day 1: When was the last time you tried something new?


The last time I tried something new was also the day I tried something illegal. 


I smoked pot. 

There, I admit it. I've never smoked pot when I was younger, nor have I smoked a cigarette or tried any other type of drug. The most I had done up until the point of smoking pot was drinking the very occasional beer. 

I'm not against drinking or drugs, they just aren't for me. The main problem is, I'm paranoid as fuck and always afraid I'm going to get caught and go to jail, or end up saying or doing something I wouldn't otherwise do in a sober state. Another reason is, even though I'm very good with self control, there was always a small fear in the back of my mind that I would get addicted to whatever substance I tried, and I just didn't want to risk it. Finally, I just don't like the taste or feeling that comes with smoking. I get extremely anxious when I can't breathe, and inhaling smoke feels like suffocation. 

Before I go off on a tangent here, I guess I should explain what my first (and last) time I smoked pot was like. My friend, let us call him Bob, is a big time smoker and has always bugged me to try some. I always politely declined, and he would shrug and drop the subject. I'm not normally one to give into peer pressure, but Bob was consistent about asking me every time we hung out, and I was starting to get curious about what was so great about a plant that made Bob smoke it nearly every day. He would always be in a good mood, and his other stoner friends would always laugh non stop. I hadn't laughed in a while, it had been years since I just had a long, breathless chortle. I use to laugh all the time when I was younger, but life has made me tired and stressed to the point that my laughs are few and very far between, and usually the result of being sleep deprived. With this in mind, pot started to sound more and more appealing as the month of May went on. 

One particular bad Friday at work had me stressed and near a mental break down. Bob came over with Pizza and ironically, that was the only day I remember him not asking me if I wanted to smoke. After an hour or so went by and he still hadn't asked me, I just straight up said "Aren't you going to ask me if I want to smoke with you?"


Bob raised an eyebrow. "Why bother? You always say no. I give man, I give."

I grinned. "That's too bad, cause I would have said yes this time."

Stains

I grew up in a very stereo-typical southern household. My father was the fat man in a stained wife beater and a scruffy face. His hands were almost always black due to grease from working on semi-trucks for a living. When he wasn't working, he was either sleeping or fixated in front of the TV with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other.  My mother was the woman with the messy hair up in a pony tail, wearing a tank top and shorts that were both one size too small for her. A cigarette dangled from her red stained lips through out her daily activities, which included watching TV, cooking dinner, talking on the phone, and (very rarely) cleaning the house.

Their stereo-typical ways were not just limited to looks, unfortunately. They both spoke in screams and southern slang under a thick, country accent. At least once a week, my mom would end up throwing objects at my dad while my dad called her a crazy bitch, among other things. At the end of the day, they would make up and be lovey dovey, and all would be forgotten. It became such a normal thing in my family, that I thought most families did this for the longest time. I never questioned it and I only became worried if it took longer than a day for them to make up.

While these things didn't have any permanent lasting damage (at least, none as far as I can tell), some of the things they said have stuck with me and I fear it will never go away despite my extreme desire for it to. You see, and this should come to no surprise to anyone with the background information I just gave, my mom and  dad were extremely racist and homophobic. From the time I could understand them, until now, as an adult, they always told me how black, Hispanic, Jewish, and gay people were the scum of the Earth and the reason for all our problems. This was a near every day thing for me; see a black person? They're a nigger and lazy good-for-nothings that need to be sent back to Africa. See a Hispanic? They're here illegally, taking all our jobs and refusing to speak English. See a Jewish person (Or in most cases, it was just anyone with a big nose or someone who was well off)? Hitler had the right idea, they're greedy fucks who can't be trusted to guard a penny. See a gay person? They're going to Hell, and they're the main reason America is going down the shitter. They're ruining families and they're perverted, most are pedophiles.

Deflowering Post

First post for this blog. I don't really know what I'm doing but I need somewhere to write and post my shit. Hopefully I don't end up abandoning this blog.

If anyone finds this blog I will be shocked...