This post is dedicated to the people who have loved, and lost, and those who are no longer with us. May the souls of the innocent be cared for, and may they never be forgotten among us. “‘Everything happens for a reason’, they say, but I say there’s a reason things happen.” -Blue Scholars
There’s a Led Zeppelin poster hanging up in my room. (Actually, no there isn’t. There should be though, so I will act like there is one until I get around to buying one.) There is a calendar laying on the four-moths-to-one-page page on another wall. I have an amp in the weird corner, with a bulletin board on which I hang “important” things hanging above it. Next to that I have two guitars (my blue acoustic-electric, which is still in its case, and my Mexican 12-string, which is actually called a Bajo-Sexto) on stands, and a medium sized dresser with lots of drawers. On the other side of the Bulletin Board is the Bathroom door, which is also next to the foot of my bed, which lies on the opposite side as the dresser. My closet is about half of my wall on the other side of my room. Next to my bed is a night stand, on which lies a bunch of junk.
Right now, I have my laptop on top of my bed. I am sitting next to the side of the bed, on top of a special drum called a “cajon”, which is made for people to sit on.
As I am typing, I get a text from a weird number I haven’t seen before. I text back and it turns out to be a friend of mine who’s number I hadn’t saved. I probably didn’t have it before, and am wondering if I gave him my number or not. No matter, there are plenty of other ways of him having gotten it, so I don’t really mind. I also see I have a message I didn’t notice from another friend I was texting. “Dang, I hope she doesn’t think I ignored that text.”, I think to myself.
I notice that I am typing a lot of things about what I’m doing and what I’m saying.
Too my right is an acoustic guitar I was playing earlier, and to my left is my Electric, which is still in its gig bag. I think about getting it out to play. Maybe “Chameleon”, by Herbie Hancock. Or maybe I will just mess around for a bit.
I come to and…
That has been an exploration of stream of consciousness writing, from myself. It was a little weird, and probably really boring. To compensate, I shall write humorously now:
So when people talk about stuff, a lot of the time I have these little thoughts that creep up in my mind, saying things like, “Oh, tell us more about [ex: how your parents don’t love you],” or, “Wait, are you actually saying this stuff right now? Are these words actually coming out of your mouth right now?”. Suffice to say, I often times feel like punching people in the jawswhile they are making: a). bogus or petty appeals, b). attacks on someone else through really bad humor or logic, or c). saying things that should be outright banned in public. Of course, I’m no angel, but if you’ve read my other posts as of yet, that’s probably nothing new.
So, I believe we need to educate everyone (yes everyone, even me) on what things we should and shouldn’t say, and to whom. Obviously you can say more to your friends than you can to strangers, but there are certain things even your friends shouldn’t have to hear you (or me) say.
For example, there is an explicit difference between having an honest and reasonable dislike for a teacher and, for example, calling her “Satan” when ever the opportunity to do so arises (i.e. someone mentions her name). [That’s an actual thing. Not my best or my worst example so far. Also, I apologize to the friend who’s example of this I’m using. Knowing you, you’ll probably either love me or hate me for doing so. No names, of course.]
I realize, though, how unrealistic of a goal this is. Sometimes, though, it is not the worst of us, but the best of us, that fall to the temptations of saying something really stupid. Such as myself. Take what you will from the use of the two last sentences.
Hey, maybe I’ll continue this ran tomorrow. Yeah! That sounds like a great idea! Check the rest of this rant tomorrow. Until then, peace!