So apparently I can write on my phone. So apparently I can write right now. Just got my haircut, shit sports clips got expensive. 19$ for a men’s cut? Fuck me right? I went for the 22$ option though where I get a hot towel massage and shampoo, which I figure is worth it for 3 extra dollars. Now I’m waiting on Aunt Kathy to get back from the bank so I can go back home. Haircuts are always a weird thing for me.
Aunt Kathy finally came, apparently she had a long line at the bank and some crazy lady chased her a couple of blocks in a fit of road rage. Aunt Kathy said that the lady flipped her a two handed bird and Aunt Kathy just smiled and waved, and that’s when the lady got mad and chased her for a bit. Funny story I guess. Anyways. Back to haircuts. They’re always weird for me, you know? Like first off, I used to have to remember my measurements for my cuts. Thankfully I don’t have to anymore, shit I went in there thinking I wanted a 2 or a 3 on my back & sides but when they put me in the computer it turns out I last got a 5. I got a 4 this time, if you care. Pretty short on the sides and back, but still nice and long up top; I have to say, I look good(which I damn well better after a goddamn 19$ haircut).In addition to the measurements though, there’s an issue I have in the back of my mind with letting ANYONE come near my head with sharp blades. It’s always a nagging sensation in the back of my mind; plus not to mention freshman year of high school when I fucked myself with a pair of electric clippers trying to trim my own neck, and I had to wear a hoodie or beanie for the next 3 months waiting for my hair to grow back. Next there’s this fear I have when I go to a new person, it’s that they’ll be absolute shit or fuck up in some way and my hair ends up looking like what Justin Beiber tries to pass off as facial hair (no hate to Justin, I like his new songs, but his facial hair emotionally scars me). That’s not even the end of it yet. Then there’s the SMALLTALK. I do not like smalltalk. It doesn’t come to me naturally. Sorry if this is rude to say, but I typically don’t care about what’s going on in other people’s lives. Like I’m not trying to sound like an asshole, but why would I care about what’s affecting somebody else that doesn’t affect me in anyway? Now I don’t mean If you’re actual friends and whatnot, because then you should care about what they have to say. But if you’re my temporary barber, or my grocery bagger, or my uber driver, and it’s likely I’ll never see you again? I typically don’t care if you’ve been working a long shift or not. Haircuts just aren’t my favorite thing man. My mother used to bribe me with candy so I’d sit still when they cut my hair. It’s true, we all have a price.
I feel like I should start trying creative writing again. Like what I’m doing right now is basically just writing down the voice inside my head word for word. Well, the main voice anyways. But I haven’t really done any creative writing as of late. Maybe I should try writing some short stories to get back into it, alongside these memoirs. I have no idea what I’d write. I always loved action and adventure, fiction and fantasy, so maybe something along those lines. Lots of people are doing shit in the future now. Dystopian novels. Sci-fi movies. Maybe I could do something like that; but maybe I should do something completely different. I have no idea, I guess I’ll just have to think about it. Actually, I might as well try it right now.
Shots rang out, piercing the cold city night. Footsteps, two pair, can be heard pounding against concrete. The first pair of feet race under a streetlight, revealing a smallish person wearing a pair of red and white hi-tops, some dark jeans, a black hoodie, and a black bandana over their face. The first person continues running, ducking into an alley just as another shot rang out and a bullet whizzed past, setting off a car alarm a block away. Idk. Food’s here. I’m out for now✌🏻️
I don’t know why, but I’m not eating as much as I used too. It’s not like I’m starving myself, it’s just that I’m just not as hungry anymore. I used to eat a lot of food every day, but now I can just eat one small meal a day and be fine. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m home from college and I’m not expending as much energy, or if it’s because of how much I’ve been smoking, or if it’s something else entirely. At the restaurant I’m at right now for lunch, I once ate 2 sandwiches here. That’s a pound of meat, plus bread, plus sides, plus soup, plus drinks. Today, I only ate soup and half a sandwich before I was full. This is a nice restaurant too. You know you’re at a nice restaurant when the to-go boxes are plastic and they give you different boxes so you can individually pack your entre, side, and any sauce you might have. I love restaurants. They’re literally places that serve art that you eat. I love cooking and I love food and I love the ability to share art, so I love restaurants. Cooking really is an art in my opinion. I don’t mean anything like McDonalds or anything(though a certain yellow sponge might disagree with me), but whether it be home cooking or a full fledged restaurant, cooking that has had time and effort and care put into it is art.
Well. Today has been an eventful day. My mother finally started talking to me about smoking, just asking questions and such. It was clear she just wanted to get the point across that she was okay with it. That was nice, I guess. Aunt Kathy wants me to come over and watch football. I don’t like football. I don’t want to go. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how late a football game would run. I told her I went out shopping after lunch but halftime is just now starting, and I only have about an hour’s worth of time until my excuse starts to seem a little too long. I guess I’ll have to suck it up and go pretend to watch football and know whats happening.
Honestly I love smoking. I just spent 15 minutes playing with packing peanuts like they were little people, and I ain’t ashamed. Today one of the questions my mother asked me was why I smoke. There are a lot of different answers to that, main ones are it helps slow my mind down, it helps me sleep at night, it helps me not be as stressful, it makes me a happier person in general, and getting high is just a nice feeling overall. Before I started smoking, I still didn’t really get angry much; but it would build up inside me over time, and eventually something would be the straw that broke the camel’s back and I’d explode. My explosions burn short and hot. I’ll punch a hole in my wall, or I’ll throw around some furniture. Then 5 minutes later I call myself a dumbass and I buy a poster to put over the wall or I rearrange my room back to the way it was. I haven’t had any since I started smoking. If I start getting mad at a game, or someone I know pisses me off, or I remember the time I got knock’d the fuck out in sixth grade, I just take a hit and I’m all “Oh look anime wow”. I don’t know. I know people have a lot of mixed feelings about weed. I think it’s fine though. One thing I do know for sure is that that kid that knocked me out in sixth grade fought like a dirty bitch and that’s the only reason he got me. Shit I can’t lie to myself. He threw two punches early as soon as he saw me, one on each eye. Two punches, two black eyes, and I was on the ground looking at birds dance around my head. Sad thing is I don’t even remember what the fight was about. You know it was about some stupid shit if you can’t even remember why you got knock’d out.Anyways. Rambling.
I guess this will be a long entry today. I don’t know, I just felt like writing a lot today. I got my first follower. Like, a real follower I guess. A real person. Not a questionable person. Even left a comment on another entry. That’s pretty cool I think. Now I know that at least one other person is reading this stuff, and that’s a comforting feeling. I always wanted to be a youtuber, whether a vlogger or a video game player or a full-fledged studio or what, but I always wanted to do that. Same as how I used to want to be an actor. But see, thing is, I don’t like myself when I see myself on video or I hear myself in a recording. In my eyes and ears, I never look good when I see or hear myself, and it ends up sitting in the back of my head, nagging me. So I don’t think I could be a youtuber. I couldn’t stand to watch myself over hours of editing only to cringe the entire time. So I think I’ll write. Much more comforting. Much more portable too. You can write a blog on your phone anywhere. You cant whip out your phone and film a vlog everywhere. Maybe I’ll take my laptop to Aunt Kathy’s and write some more there. Anyways. Sit, I’m always going off track… good thing I can read back and remind myself. Thank you to my one follower as of right now.
I think writing will help put my life back on track. This past semester and even earlier into this summer has really all been just so much of a blur to me, filled with problems and bad experiences, but also new, different, and fun experiences. It’s all just been a bit of a blur.Work, college, parties, relationships, more work, friends, family, life changes… just a lot to sort through. I think writing will help me sort it all out. Monday I need to call my summer job and fix something wrong with my application. You see, since I wrote it down here, it’s more likely that I’ll actually do it this Monday.
I took a short break. To do what exactly, I’m not sure. Just kind be high in the clouds in my own little world I guess. I played some video games, played with some more packing peanuts(Oh god I need help), and just listened to some Childish Gambino. Heartbeat always hits me when I’m high. I didn’t end up going to Aunt Kathy’s. My excuse held out. I am however going driving with her early tomorrow morning, which means no morning smoking. I can’t even drive in Grand Theft Auto 5 without killing myself and 10 pedestrians 30 seconds in the car; I don’t even want to think about what I’d do in real life if i drove high… Worst thing I can thing of is taking out an entire children’s hospital. So no. Sober driving for me. I like life. Earlier in the semester, when frat Rush parties were still going on; I went to a party with 2 other guys who I never spoke to again and my party friend, Chelsea. I wasn’t good friends with Chelsea at the time so I didn’t go home with her. Little did I know she’d be living with me in a few months, crazy right? College party slut you go to a parrty a few times with====> roommate/best friend? More about her later though. I wasn’t good friends with Chelsea at the time, so I didn’t go home with her; I went home with the two guys. Now, these two already knew each other, and they were both taller than me, so I was the odd man out. Now, we’re all drunk, it’s pouring like a mother fucker, we’re walking from the frat house to a parking garage. Now, this night, it’s honestly the craziest stuff I think I’ve done in the span of a single day; but I don’t know that for sure(There is one party I went to later on that I got black out drunk at… apparently it was 5 a.m. and I still had a vodka bottle in my hand). First off, did I mention this was my FIRST DAY OF COLLEGE? First day of college, I went to my first party. First party I went to, first beer I had(I had drank other alcohols before though). Lot’s of firsts. First time I went out and did anything with one of those girls. You know those girls, the girls that just party all night and shop but not buy anything all day. I had never tried talking to those girls before, I thought they were stupid. That might be true, I’m still not sure; but even though she was one of those girls, we ended up becoming pretty good friends. Probably because we’re equally sporadic, narcissistic, and self-centered. Wow, I really don’t shine a positive light on myself. Anyways. I go to this party with them, I leave with them. Chelsea runs off with her friend, so I get stuck with the other two guys. They offered my a ride back to my dorm, but even though it was pouring rain and it was my first time being drunk, I still had enough sense to not get in that truck. First day of college, shit, could have also very easily have been my last. Moral of the story I guess is always stay within the limit of where you know what you’re doing. Even first time drunk me knew that. Good job, first time drunk me. God, I am just rambling on and on today.
This line starts at 242o words, so I think I’ll load up the water pipe and really get into this paragraph-to-be. Okay. I’m set. I’m watching a Vanoss video right now. If you don’t know, Vanoss is a guy that plays video games for comedic value on youtube. He’s been successful enough with his videos he stars in a tv show and has his own animated series. Like damn I’d consider myself successful as fuck if I was in his place. Anyways. Watching a Jev vlog now. Jev is by far my favorite vlogger, me and him are just so alike I think. Except he can actually grow facial hair. He’s an honest man, I’m an honest man. This Jev video is making me cry. He’s sad. I’m sad. I don’t cry often, the last two times I cried for real were when I was 12 and 17; but I do cry when I watch sad things. It’s weird. My best friend’s mom could die and I wouldn’t really be all that sad honestly, but show me an anime mother being brutally murdered? I’m all tears. Why are my emotional priorities so mixed up?
I think I’m done writing for now. This blog is definitely long enough. Sorry if this was more pointless talk, I kind of treat this like a journal. After all, isn’t that what memoirs basically are? If you’re reading this, I hope you’re doing okay.
lemney snicket series of unfortunate events(Ignore this)