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.
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
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 ͡°).
Theft and robbery is a one way road, sending innocent humans down on the path to their imminent demise. If you had right amount of stupidity and ignorance inside of you to have read my previous experience with crime (basically when I went on a guilt trip after stealing glue) you should know that I’m no stranger to the life of a criminal. And this is the tale of the most horrible thing I’ve ever done.
There was once a night that would decide the fate of the rest of my life. Looking back on it now, I deeply regret this and wish that I could take it back (sniffle). It was at a Shoprite. My mother and I traversed here predominantly for some milk, but of course left with around 6 bags of food. There was a section entirely devoted to fruit, fruit of which I grabbed two apples from. We stood in the self checkout lane trying to ignore the primitive urge to yell at the man in front of us who clearly had an amount of food much higher than the accepted 20 items limit. As he exited the store with quite an excessive amount of cat food, we moved forward in the line. I started scanning the items, until, the only items left were the apples. My mom gave me a tutorial on how to log apples in and pay for those as well, so I punched in the code to the system and a message appeared on the touchscreen that said ‘Please place the apples on the scale.’ Without the thought or attention span to care of this, I basically stood there until it came to a price. $0.56. At this point my mom most likely caught on to what I didn’t know I was doing.
I bagged the items like the criminal I didn’t know I was and we left, and only was it at this point that my mom pointed out to me that I had my fingers on the scale, tricking the scale in to weighing the weight I put on to the scale, not that of the apples. So, instead of coming to a price initially higher than the one we received, we got $0.56, the price of my hand apparently. So, instead of buying the apples, we freaking bought my hand and stole a few apples.
Of course, we laughed about this, but not even laughter could be the cure for the burden now on my shoulders. I haven’t even eaten the apples yet. I bet they’ll taste like shaaaaame.
As human beings, we absorb interesting experiences as something we share at a dinner table, or at a party, to be accepted. Which is a horrible system. Nightmares are something we hold dear to us, because they are experiences we ourselves wouldn’t be able to live through ourselves. We emote our need for nightmares in different ways, such as fear. Nightmares, in a basic sense, give us more hope than dreams do. Hope for whatever we saw not to be true. And, in those special times when us humans live something that could be put in comparison with a nightmare, we share that story. Because humans are terrible. And that’s basically what this is.
This preceding night there was a fundraiser movie night. If the previous sentence didn’t give you an idea about what will happen next, think about this. The movie we were going to watch was Minions, that movie that we heard about for a day then never heard it again. In other words, that movie that all of us fell asleep during it. Well, imagine that exact movie, but instead of watching it in a comfortable movie theater environment where you can eat all the popcorn you want without judging yourself because it was a special occasion, you are at an elementary school gymnasium full of 12 year olds, and all these people do is wait to get out of school and make ‘jokes’ about the male anatomy. I entered the movie night fully expecting what I thought I was to see, and I wasn’t surprised. It was most likely a trap to raise money for the school. For all they cared, they could make us pay 20$ then lie about the movie and lock us in the gymnasium for hours.
But we didn’t. I knew I made a mistake by making the asinine decision to enter this place. After 20 minutes of making Ted Cruz jokes with Lucas, the movie finally started, and it was worse than the ideals of a nightmare. It was displayed through a projector on a giant white piece of paper held up by a metal rod. The quality of the picture was mortifying and the sound shook the bleachers that I was sitting on. It was only a minute or two after this that I made the brash decision to leave (to be fair, it sounded good at the time).
I picked up my phone and went to the front room with Lucas because we had enough. At this front room a coalition of moms (the ones that brag about their children on Facebook) held guard, and when we picked up our stuff it alarmed them. “Where are you going,” said one of them. They all stared at us with their mom eyes. “We…I…um….my mom….we decided to go home.” The moms looked at us like we were atheists at Jesus-con. “Well…,’ the ringleader of the moms harshly responded. “We can’t let you leave. You have to stay until 9:30.” This alarmed us for a number of reasons. “I think we’re just going to leave…” I quietly stated with the confidence of the whatever from The Wizard of Oz. “I’m sorry, I really am,” she continued. “But you’ll have to stay unless your mother or father picks you up.” Challenged by this, I quietly said, “Fine then,” and then greatly outwitted their mom logic. I pulled out my phone and dialed for my mom. The relief of hearing a voice that didn’t have a demon possessing it was wonderful. I put it on speaker, and then one of the other-moms said, “Kristen, Charlie would like to walk home, and we were just wondering if you could allow this.” The thought that a mom who knew not one thing about me didn’t believe I had the mental-capacity or maturity to traverse the small distance of 4 blocks when the sun was still out was humiliating. My mom quickly respond, “Yes, of course,” and that was the greatest relief of my life. Defeated by this, the other-mom said in a moment of anguish, “If you leave and you regret it, you won’t be allowed to go back.” Good, I thought to myself. While walking out, I looked back at them only to see them all stare back with pure black eyes. This is the horrifying truth behind moms. There must be like an underground cult following of moms that they use to organize and keep track of all of the immature children. Oh wait. That’s Facebook.
This is something I’ve been meaning to address for quite some time now. How people will incessantly and rudely state their opinion anytime they feel threatened enough to do so.
Alright, lets test you in this. You are innocently scrolling through your Facebook feed, but then, you see the most sad, utterly most upsetting meme that has ever graced the page. You could scroll past it, like a normal, functioning human being, but of course, you decided against it, and decided to bring it to their attention that you are displeased with one of their posts. You say, ‘that is really sad, pawpaw’s grandkids should have eaten those extra burgers, you shouldn’t have posted this because of how offensive it was.’
You just can’t understand how upsetting this is, but in this situation it is for a multitude of reasons. It’s an image. An image with words. It may not say words you like, but you can’t help that, and bringing it to their attention that you don’t like it will make the situation worse. Just….just get over it. Get a hobby. Sign up for a Club Penguin account. Do whatever you’d like. It’s an image. It can’t harm you. Unless you really do see a picture that may trigger you or actually, truly is actually offensive, that’s alright. That’s understandable. There are two types of people here.
Also, it is absolutely terrible when some people try to force their opinion on other people. This one is the most upsetting. Alright, here’s the situation: You are walking down the street, and along the way, you see two men holding hands. Instead of respecting the fact that they both love each other and love comes in all forms, you point it out to them that being homosexual is against your religion or whatever. That may be true. Being gay or different may be something you don’t agree with. But you don’t have to literally push you beliefs on other people. We can’t all be the same, and you can’t push people to the standards you set out. People are meant to be different, and that’s fine. I mean, some people feel insecure with their gender and want to change. That’s fine. You don’t have to push the fact on them that you are uncomfortable with their change. It won’t affect you. Not once. Not ever. It is their decision how they are going to live their own life and that is how it is going to be for them.
I’m freaking 12 years old, not even a teenager, and I know for sure that I am smarter than most of those people. And I know I’m being a massive hypocrite by shoving my opinion of opinionated people, but I know that it is for this cause and this cause only that I’m saying this. That felt so good to get off of my chest.
Well….. so….umm… this is awkward. It feels nice to sit here once more, aimlessly staring at a complex and detailed void that we call the internet. I wonder who was the person who invented the concept of the internet, because they basically created a monster. We’re getting off track here.
It’s been an interesting month (in other words, binge-watching Japanese anime series on Netflix while also regularly going to Hot Topic). But seriously, even though I do have some legitimate reasons why I couldn’t write here for the past 39 days there was a pressing weight that fell on me during that time that drove to the point of beginning to write a sentence, but then getting distracted by either text messages, Netflix, cat photos, or just basically dropping the whole idea because I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Even though I was never doing anything other than binge-watching anime and going on Instagram regularly it was just a hard thing to imagine. The inspiration to write here kind of just went bust and it was hard to say anything of my own for a while. But, for the most part, I have rekindled the dismayed embers and hopefully I am back in the throne (if they had thrones in the sewer which is probably my level)!
In order to make things easier to actually write here, I think for the beginning I will just make it go by a schedule, and for a little while instead of writing about my normal things I might go for fiction stories and in other cases, funny and ridiculous things that happen in my life. But, before all that happens, please enjoy these photos of cats next to cucumbers.
Wait… that final one, if you look closely, isn’t a cat next to a cucumber. Who is that?….wait a second…. IT’S MIRANDA COSGROVE!!!!
I don’t know who I think I am yet. And I’m not completely sure that’s a good thing.
Some moments I am normal, and I can safely call myself sane, and overall a person. Others I feel more like crudely Photoshopping my face on to stuff.
I don’t know how or in what way to deal with that. And I don’t think a way to will be clear anytime soon. Today in school, I wore my panda hat and scarf to school, and throughout the entire recess I felt obliged to the thought of randomly becoming a hipster. So the whole time I was talking about new vegan diet plans and Starbucks. I am a cool kid.
And other times, I am the saddest person in the world. If I start being happy my mind immediately reminds myself that I’m supposed to be sad right now, and it starts up again and I’m the saddest person in the world. It’s like if you put dead hens in to a blender and mixed it up with lemon juice that is what the feeling is like. Even right now while typing about it I’m laughing because of how dumb it may sound.
A new one that I have uncovered recently is me being on the edge. During math time in school, I completely forgot about what was doing and instead inverted my intentions from converting fractions of percentages to trying to get the attention of Lucas and then wear my panda hat to the side of my head like you can find most kids whose permanent thoughts are set on football or shorts, and say ‘I eat Reece’s Puffs.’ And then spend the rest of the period staring at the wall contemplating the choices I’ve made in my short life.
Finally, a lot of the time I am excessively happy- for no reason. This happens to me for at least 30 minutes in a day where I am looking at the clouds, thinking, ‘What nice clouds! That cloud is shaped like a happy puppy who got adopted by 2 nice old people who used to be in a biker gang until they realized their hips weren’t in it.’ And then I continue that thought, until I snap out of it and become a normal human being.
I don’t honestly think I’m normal at this point. Or ever will be. And that’s fine by me, because I’ve done an exceptional job at accepting this fact. I’m probably only normal for about 1 hour per day, and that’s pretty much the maximum. And maybe that explains how I got myself and 2 others in to a massive argument about who is the Lorax when I suddenly got obsessed with this picture and sent it to a group chat with the tagline, ‘I am the Lorax.’
Ah, well. I guess I’ll just go back to binge-watching The X Files on Netflix.
Ugh. Tomorrow is the end of NaBloPoMo, which is what I have been looking for, say the last 29 days. Am I really expected to write a real blog post tonight? I am currently typing this on my phone while watching QVC. I don’t know why I ever even bother to watch it. I never mean to, it is just on. The fact that I am typing this on my phone instead of making the journey across the house over to the computer just shows how much I really do care tonight. I’m just keeping it short tonight. I hope you enjoy this copied and pasted meme that is completely irrelevant to the situation and meant to divert you from the fact that I only care up to the point that I stop writing about whatever’s going on and just post a stupid meme that I stole from the internet.
And here is this
Ok I’ve done enough here GOODNIGHT!!!
It’s that day again. Black Friday.
This is the day where millions of good deal hungry hippos of people become engulfed in a battle royal at your nearby department store. This is a traumatic time for America. I swear, yesterday I was at my mom mom’s house for Thanksgiving who lives close to a Target, and, as we were there, we noticed the long line dwindling out over to the road, the line filled with brainwashed Christmas shoppers.
I don’t understand it. I don’t have faith that I ever will. I will stand by the inevitable bias that I don’t like it. I just feel like, if you want to save 50% on a TV, there is an amazing thing called Cyber Monday that I think you should try. I believe you should take heed to these warnings, so hopefully you would be the wiser the following year. I have never, and hopefully will never challenge the mad cows inside any store just to get a good saving for that picture frame you are buying Aunt Ruth. And neither should anyone. I just don’t understand what drive people to take it that far, and take on the riot.
Listen in as I steal this quote from a popular meme. People are camping out to purchase junk for others and themselves after celebrating a holiday where the centerpiece is being thankful for what they already have. You know, maybe I am softening this a little too much. Most of the Black Friday shoppers have probably boycotted Thanksgiving dinner to buy this. I bet the week before was cleared out just so they could camp out on department store grounds to get a better deal, later to be trampled by the inhumane bulls that those people have turned to.
I mean, sure, since I am yet to become 12 and underage, disabling my ability to take a turn to a department store, the only reliable source to be told of these facts is that of news headlines and horror stories on the web. But, I think that is enough to stay on to these facts of mine. But, I believe it is a good thing, that I have no experience of my own on this topic. I’d rather keep all my limbs instead of risk having to pay the full price. Dear god, people, let’s stop with all of this. The day after Thanksgiving millions of cattle like humans go out to fight all of the others willing to save just a dollar or two. I’m done…. I’m just… just… done. If you want to risk coming home with a lesser amount of fingers than the amount you left with, that is your decision, and not mine to control at all. Goodbye you people.