Middle School


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Preceding this post was the loud and hectic transition from elementary to middle school.. Generally, going from paroosing the deserted and somber hallways of a small, suburban town elementary school to running from class to class and navigating my way through the acne-ridden elders that own the hallways is bound to reside at some degree of terrifying. I knew this from the start. But this was like a whole new level. An unexplored and unfathomed layer in a 2 storied building. I literally had to bring a map around with me in an attempt to maneuver my way through the meandering hallways and to maintain my obsession and need for the imminent sense of control. It just felt overwhelming at first. I spent my final days in elementary patiently awaiting the end of my tenure while also making my time as the top of the educational hierarchy worthwhile and memorable. Then I was just dropped off in to a completely different environment where I had to periodically rotate between different classes and routinely open a locker (which I forget the combination of on a daily basis, thanks for asking). It’s like being dropped off in the dense African wilderness with no preparation and definitely no idea of how to properly survive without having your windpipe ripped out and chewed vigorously in the beastly maw of a lion

Aside from that, there is something endlessly clawing away deep within the inner confines of my mind, which is the distance between my home and the school. It is essentially the walk of legends. Diet-ers would murder to have the opportunity to walk this prolonged distance that I am forced to complete twice daily. Since I live in a town that is without a bus district and is instead run by people too rural to be urban and to urban to be rural, thus stuck in the unsatisfactory demimonde of suburban-ness, there are no exceptions to having to make these great lengths twice. In a day. Probably another cruel fitness regime devised from the charlatans dubbed the board of educations, but still.

Another crushing blow is the association that my fellow classmates have taken to their heads. Their communal belief is that, because they are now doing mature things such as juggling their classes, fraternizing with puberty and its devastating side effects, they all now believe that they are in fact mature. They believe that they are now mature enough to go off about dating (coming from the people who still use the term ‘like like’ because they haven’t yet reached the mental maturity to even comprehend the word ‘love’ or ‘have a crush on’ because they’re too busy giggling and watching Veggie Tales). The entire Junior High dating thing should be outright abolished and condemned, but that isn’t the main concern. That leaves people like me (who has never experienced romantic feelings for anyone because that will probably only happen to them after their general age group doesn’t wage a comparison with an 8 year old Minecraft player) out of the game and ultimately out of the drama. I’ve found ways to work myself in the midst of the whole industry, thoug

In general, I’ve enjoyed middle school…. so far. Aside from a few minor flaws, it’s been fine….. so far. There has just been a preeminent fear lingering alongside me that the workload would soon increase and it would get painful but there has been none of that so far.



The General Problem with Blogging


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I have blogged religiously for 2 years now, but over the preceding months I have lost a bit of the energy and motivation to do so anymore. Over these past few months it has become more of a liability than actually something I would enjoy to do, but whenever I actually went to write I found myself enjoying it and promising to write at a more frequent rate. A lot like going to the gym in that sense. But, I swear to god I have dozens of drafts saved that I never bothered to finished. I have found my self so infatuated with my current life that I keep exiting the flow of it and subsequently losing interest. That is my general area of concern with this whole structure and platform. Motivation is extremely lacking in my general mindset. And with the whole new introduction to middle school I find myself even more distanced from the platform than I ever was. The website is essentially a ghost at this point but I will soon resurrect it with the coming of NaBloPoMo and the drafts I am currently finishing as of now, for I am now sick of the abstinence I’ve been practicing on this blog. Alright then. Speaking of me, I dropped my phone in a 7 foot deep river of rocks, and my student ID was also in my phone, so THAT will be fun explaining to my homeroom teacher. Well, I think that was enough. Thank you for reading. I will now play a gag I keep resuscitating as a result of my lack of comedic material. Enjoy this complimentary photo of Danny Devito.


Clown Paranoia


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In the recent ages, public and social unrest is growing rapidly at an alarming rate. That is entirely justifiable depending on our highly controversial upcoming election. But, a new dark color in the makeup palate of darkness is being used by the face of our nation, giving us as a principality a darker contour than ever imagined. Apparently, stuck in the midriff of our problems, there has been a recent spike in wild clown sightings.


I don’t know why or for whatever reason knowledgeable, mature adults are literally dressing up as clowns to get attention, but it certainly has everyone in cities and small towns alike spooked. Suitably set when relating to the upcoming holiday, but that it beside the point. There are literally fully grown, reasonable adults chasing children down the streets with machetes. That is much too far.

But I feel as if I am now a prophet, because I had a dream over a month ago that was marginally prophetic. It was of strings of serial killer clowns spawned from an episode of The X Files (a show that has been dead since 2001, mind you), and the particular leader of the clowns was the one who knocked at the door of my abode one strange night. Then they kept repeatedly murdering me and I don’t know what that was about (issues), but still. I feel somewhat entitled to our friendly neighborhood clowns because I feel as if I am the spawn of them. Besides that, the paranoia is spreading to the deep, unheard of crevices and crack of our nations, such as the small town entwined in the tangled mess that is New Jersey. I’ll hear whispering down the hallways at school about someone who has witnessed a clown or something. Other than that, my area has remained untouched but I still have a strange hopefulness that they will be sighted in mah land.


Jesus Christ nevermind

Now, getting to the actual point of this article, if it gets to a point where non-nonsensical humans are attempting to lure children in the woods with candy and threatening school on MySpace (or other social media websites that have actually been used since 2008), we should wage war on those clowns. Because we’re only so far from someone taking the joke too far and actually killing someone and turning the group in to hostile killer clowns and not just mentally-defective teenagers trying to get a laugh or two. I swear to god the whole situation is terrifying. And the authorities are treating it like they’re blind, thumbless…well, clowns. But I still am strangely yearning to spot them in my hometown. For there is just such a never-ending sense of excitement correlated with a new trend or new thing. Because, I mean, a clown sighting could happen to anyone. That clown could be me, for all anyone would know, as long as I were to keep the mask on. As we ease in to the October season, I am strangely becoming comfortable with the gratifying reality that any one day on the calendar could be the day I spot a wild clown. Quite frankly, I am constantly resisting the nonsensical urge to go clown hunting.


So, in general, I have mixed emotions about the invading party of clowns. Before the day the flat-out murder someone or lure children in to the woods I will accept their presence and I will remain hopeful that a considerable distance will remain me and the clown principality. I also enjoy the general unrest and constant awareness and alertness of nearby clowns. But that doesn’t mean I’ll cease my coulrophobia (fear of clowns) and submit to the evildoers lurking in the local Walmart parking lot. So, with that, I bid you adieu, and have a SPOOOPY week.

see you in yah drems.gif

Have a very spoopy and extremely creppy October


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The dead and rotten autumnal spines of leaves silently rake the street at night, the only life it has left is of the wind. Brilliant beams of light shine from the deep carved crevices sunk in by the sharp blade used to brutalize the nearby pumpkin. The sights and sounds of deep autumn entrap us as the season progresses farther and deeper, eventually encompassing us in the everlasting darkness. I don’t know about you, but this is terribly spoopy and wildly creppy. With dem October pumpkins and such and other seasonally reproduced fruit, glossy red apples filling up colorful and inviting baskets, I couldn’t not be excited for the month to come. Some believe that October has the many spooks such a skeletons, and bats, and other VURY spoopy tings, but I view it as a warm embrace from an old friend. So, as I often say, enjoy yourselves, sip a latte, and enjoy the season.

Unless You’d Like to See A Picture of Pat Buchanan, You Probably Shouldn’t Read This


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So…. I just realized that it has been, like, what, 25 days (?) since my last post. I’m probably going to justify that fact by saying that I just entered middle school that has been loads of stress and other words similar to this. I’m trying to evade the loud screams of my father and neighbors alike, as they are all watching the foot ball game on right now, and the Pittsburgh Indians just scored a point against the Phillies, shoot….

In the meantime, enjoy this complimentary photo of Pat Buchanan


An Ode to September


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It feels like September is some sort of seasonal relief. In the midst of suffering the unendurable weather we’ve put up with for the past few months, leaves fall and everything changes. Anyone can attest that this is the distinctions between seasons, but I view it as some sort of demimonde between the insufferable heat of Summer and the harsh and unyielding cold of the Winter. That’s what I love and always will love about the season. Seemingly infinite lines of 30 something white stereotypes wearing red scarfs and UGG boots waiting to get their first pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks, the look and smell of ruptured pumpkin organs, early comers who decorate for Halloween the second September hits, it is all too much to take in. The general aesthetic and feel of the season to come is a whole different world in itself. So, I beg of you, enjoy the beginning, sip an unofficially released Starbucks PSL, and have a wonderful day


Back to School


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The pale and gaunt horseman that is the embodiment of September is riding in to town and the concept of summer is slipping beneath our fingertips like sand in an hourglass. With that comes another wave of post-millennial complaints and whines about the forthcoming school year. I personally have no problem with the back to school deals and sales that litter the days of July and August in every commercial retailer known to man. I find it reassuring that other children specifically hate this one time of year where their ‘freedom’ is washed away and I love it. Maybe it’s because I’m a regimented human. I need to have a schedule to go by or I crash and burn, and with an entire summer of completely unstructured time I don’t know how to contain myself. Which by some means explain how I’ve managed to binge watch 11 seasons of Supernatural within the past 2 months. But, enough about me.


Since I am entering the 7th grade and starting my tenure at middle school (only 10 more years of schooling left….yay?), today we went to the local Walmart (the most evil corporation that has ever existed) to go shopping for school supplies. I grabbed the list and already I saw what was going to go terribly wrong. For school, it said I needed 3 3 inch binders, which are absolutely massive. For something absolutely colossal comes great price, which totals around 30$ for all 3. I chose to ignore this and leave it for my mom to worry about. But I need you to understand what this experience really was like. There was a countless array of aisles filled with screaming and crying crib lizards clung to overworked moms who chose to look past their whining little ones to get a deal on binders. I cannot stress enough how terrible this was. Despite all of this, I went to grab the pencils, hoping that would make out to be an actual win in all of this. But there was something wrong. The aisle was flooded with crap brands like Dixon and Paper Mate instead of the lovely Ticonderoga. I kid you not, I nearly had a full-fledged panic attack while tearing through these joke pencils in anguish.  Before all light seeped out beneath me, I saw yet another ankle-biter in tears clung to his mother (which shouldn’t have raised any red flags or any concern due to the fact that this is Walmart’s main demographic), but he was holding a pack of Ticonderoga pencils.

I walked opposite of the direction they were headed to hopefully find where the source of these were. Here, there was a smaller aisle where the partition between rows was so low you could see the person on the other side. It was filled with irritatingly blue cardboard boxes filled with Crayola colored pencils and more of those cheap things I mentioned earlier. I walked among this aisle slowly and reproachfully, cautious of what I might find. And then, next to the little boy smoking a crayon, there it was. A massive collective filled to the brim with packs of Ticonderoga pencils. I grabbed what I needed and traversed back to the mothership. Seeing as everyone had an equally terrible experience garnering supplies, we paid and got out of that horrible place.

There still are more terrible things to be said about the month preluding school that I haven’t even begun to describe. The imminent sense of impending doom placed on parents rushing from store to store to gather all the supplies necessary for the beginning. The stress placed on younger ones who haven’t even thought to begin a 5 page essay that was due by the end of the summer. I could delve in to this one subject for hours and waste paragraphs of your time resuscitating days worth of information you already knew. But I’ll spare you, the reader, of it this one time. Farewell




No Man’s Sky


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A year or so ago, word broke out in my hood* about a in-development Indie game called No Man’s Sky. Centered around an infinite, procedural generated sci-fi universe, the game was essentially based around exploration and learning about alternative worlds… and, that’s it. It had to offer over 18 quintillion different planets, alien species, and allowed space travel like never seen before in a game. Without any load screens and completely different gameplay then seen before, No Man’s Sky allowed an immersive experience that would revolutionize the industry.

Then I couldn’t buy it because it would only run on a PC created by Jesus himself


I swear to god, hours of my life were spent and wasted doing physical and manual labor in the back yard to earn the money necessary to buy this 60$ waste of storage, only to find that the time spent stacking bricks beside the outhouse was misused and completely unnecessary now that my computer didn’t even fit the requirements of 8GB RAM. I was so ready to explore the universe that I lost my sense of direction and ended up crashing in to the nearest gas station. But when the game was legitimately released last Friday, thousands of negative reviews were procured at an alarming rate due to lag and complete boredom with its’ tiresome concept that would lose its novelty after an hour. At this point, the struggle was real*.

Through hours of incessant and frantic Googling I found no water at the bottom of this desolate well. That’s when the realization set in that this small dream would never reach its height and would most likely never be accomplished. The despondency then set in as the light seeped out between the cracks that surfaced through the pain and suffering. It was like a teenaged girl suffering from a break up from a boy with a sizable age difference causing the mother to disapprove. I spent my weekend watching then rewatching Mean Girls with all the shade closed and a bowl of chocolate marshmallow ice cream in hand.

In the end, the whole experience of not playing the game I have fantasized about for around a year sucked. But the salt was washed away now that it has dawned upon me that virtually no one with a PC similar to mine has had a good experience with this. Essentially, what this is to other wonderful games is what meat is to vegans. The moral of today’s story is that our consumerism based culture is singlehandedly the biggest flaw and method of control humanity has ever succumbed to in our brief tenure on this small planet. It will drive the innocent to step across the border that the have plotted out for themselves and go to great lengths only to uncover a big, steaming pile of pure, unadulterated disappointment.


*I apologize for my imprudent hip dialogue but I couldn’t be a Flintstone forever


Stranger Things: You Better Watch it Now


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As you’ve probably seen spammed in your Facebook feed nonstop recently, Netflix released a new supernatural horror mystery period drama series on the 15th of July. Right when it was released I have to say I watched half of the series that same night. Granted, it was only eight episodes long. Through its’ delightful spookiness, grandeur storyline, and likable characters, this was about the most wonderful show probably ever produced by Netflix.

Set in the 80’s this show is about the disappearance of 12 year old Will Byers, who was taken by a dimension jumping creature from another world. His friends, out looking for him, find a very strange little girl who goes by the name of “Eleven.” Barely knowing any English, and acting like she was chained up in a windowless shed for most of her life, Eleven seems to know something about the disappearance. It’s essentially a government paranoia fueled period drama topped off with an alternative universe and a murderous alien being.


Alas, all wonderful things have a negative aspect to it, as did this show. First off, I hated Winona Ryder’s character, who played the frantic and harried mother of the missing Will Byers. She delivered a powerful performance but half the time she was woefully saying “Where is my son?” and the other half, even when the body was uncovered, she was screaming about how Will was still out there, even if it meant abandoning her other child at a morgue or filling her home with Christmas lights in order to communicate with him, or even breaking a hole in the wall with an ax. Although she turned out to be right, her character is still as horrible and hard to watch as before. I mean, I contemplated skipping over the scenes she starred in because her voice gave me a headache.


My favorites had to be the 3 friends of Will. There was Mike, the leader of their little cult (my personal least favorite). There was Lucas, the smart one who, like Winona, was always mad at Mike or freaking out about something (again, I didn’t like him either). And then there was Dustin, the only comic relief of the show and the reincarnation of the Pilsbury Dough Boy with a genetic disorder that rendered him toothless. And then there’s Eleven, the mysterious girl who quickly became somewhat friends with Mike, who was my favorite character in the series because of her ties to the conspiracy I mentioned and her way of delivering a powerful performance without saying a word. But she was also incredibly frustrating, and I kid you not if she was more helpful the series would have been a total of 3 episodes long.

Every human alive deserves a chance to watch this fan-spooking-tastic supernatural horror science fiction period drama. If you don’t have a Netflix profile, sign up for one. It’ll worth it. Or just find a sketchy online website that hosts ‘legal’ movies and TV free of charge (but you didn’t hear it from me ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).



The Secret Life of Pets


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Today I would like to discuss an issue that has currently been affecting us on a global scale. Those blissfully ignorant PG kids movies that are as unrelenting as the surface of the sun. There have been movie classics within the animation genre, but it feels like they are growing progressively worse at an alarming rate.

Every true member of our society has drunkenly deduced a string of curse words at the unyielding and persistent Minion obsession, but in the world of family friendly animation more mentally damaged versions of these exact same movies are being released at a rate so fast nothing can alleviate the pain and despair they leave in their bloody paths.

I may be being too harsh for a movie directly intended for children, but still. Today I was involuntarily forced to see The Secret Life of Pets


I had high hopes for this movie to be honest. It was cute and had a lot more on its mind than other horrid movies like Zootopia (that was indulged by furries everywhere), but it failed to accomplish anything within its 2 hour run. No message was delivered and it boasted two unlikable leads when it should have focused more one the clearly more interesting bunny voiced by Kevin Hart. Regardless, it was shockingly more humorous than any other Pixar movie, but only at the level that the humor could only be enjoyed by plants. Which says a lot about Pixar to be honest. Its constant use of cliches and cringe worthy script was enough to make the majority of the population flinch in embarrassment.

It seems as if I’m gifting this one film an onslaught of torturous beatings, but the truth is I’m scared. Honestly, legitimately horrified. Why, you may ask? Just, for one moment, let us all unplug ourselves from this matrix and understand what the movie signifies. If this one plays out as it seems to be, within a month it will replace the Minions on all things and those stupid animals will take over and hold a tenacious grip on our freedom and force us in an Orwellian nightmare. Instead of the yellow Minions that would be strategically placed on ever single product and food items in the market, the detestable small dogs will litter the aisles while the endangered Minions will lurk behind in small tribes instead of their previous rein as the worlds dominant species. That’s the truth. That one, innocent Universal movie will be the enddddd.