Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Okay...so I have not looked this up or done any research on the subject, but I am sick and tired of all these images (if they can be called images) all over the social networking sites saying that marijuana causes cancer cells to freeze and keeps them from reproducing. A cancer cell is just a mutated cell. It's not all that different from a normal cell. If marijuana causes cancer cells to freeze and keep from reproducing, wouldn't it do the same thing to a normal healthy cell? I am seriously asking. I don't want to sound like an over-opinionated fool trying to sound smart and stop the legalization of marijuana (although I am against it). I don't know...I just think it sounds like a terrible argument. Actually, I think most of the arguments for the benefits of marijuana sound terrible. "It's not addictive like alcohol is!" Well, yes it is. People can be addicted to anything...I've see My Strange Addiction. "It's better for you than alcohol!" That may be, but it still doesn't make it good for you. "You can't overdose on it!" Well, you can technically, but you can seriously harm yourself and/or others while you're high as balls just like with any drug. "I just do it to relax!" There are more constructive ways to relax. Take a hot bath, read a book, play a game of solitaire. And I'm sorry (not really), but when the highlight of your day is the fact that you made pot brownies, you have a serious problem and I feel bad for you. It's sad really and kind of pathetic. And if this posts offends any users out there...get over it. I don't give a flying fuck. (Yes, I seriously just wrote that). And that would be the end of my rant. Good day.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
So lately I've been looking up creepypastas because I love being scared. And I think I'd be really good at making some creepypastas. I don't know. I have this idea for one, but I feel like it won't be very good at all. Obviously I'm not looking for it to catch on and go viral, but at the same time...that would be pretty darned cool. My idea for the creepypasta is based on reality. Something that has actually happened to me. You know how in my last post I was talking about dreams and how they're real to me? Well, when I lived with my parents I was plagued almost monthly with demon dreams. Each dream would progress in intensity. For instance, I would have a dream where demons would be attacking a city and to save everyone I had to pretend I was a demon until I could eventually overtake them. And then a few weeks later I would have dreams where I was sitting in a bar and a group of demons walks in carrying a cross and crucifying Jesus in front of me (and only me) with red candles and then light the candles and laugh at me (that one disturbed me...a lot). And then a few weeks later it would actually get to the point where I would be possessed. I don't remember the last time I had a very intense demon dream. Like I said they only really happened whenever I was at my parents house which I think is really strange and I really don't like going back there. Especially because that creepy Snuggle Bear moves around on its own. Anyway...there was this one demon dream that really stuck out to me which I wanted to use as a creepypasta, but I don't know how start it. So I'm just going to say my dream and if anybody out there wants to form it into a creepypasta and post it all over the internetz feel free. You'll probably take the credit for it and all, but honestly I don't care because I already know it happened to me personally and internet arguments are never a good thing.
You know how dreams always start in the middle of an event and you don't really know how you got to where you are, but it still makes sense? At the time, most of my dreams were in the third person. I would be me, but I would be witnessing somebody else's dream or the main "character" would be someone else and I would be watching in a birds-eye view. It wasn't like I was someone else and I would be going through the motions in somebody else's body like a lot of peoples' dreams are; I was actually watching the events go on like a ghost. Nobody would notice me. I was just a phantom. Well, that's how this dream started out. I was floating up in a corner of a room. Somebody else's living room. Nothing was going on. I was just watching a family go through a normal day. There was a son and a mother that I can remember. But they didn't know I was there. Nobody EVER knew I was there. But the front door opened in this family's living room and a man walked in wearing an orange Hawaiian shirt. And as soon as he walked in I knew he was a demon. The first thing he did when he stepped into the room was look up in the corner of the ceiling where I was and he smiled. It was a malicious smile. It scared me because there was no way of knowing that I was there. I was so scared that I shot awake and I looked over the side of my bed and I swear on my life that I saw a figure standing next to my bed staring at me wearing an orange Hawaiian shirt. Of course when I shot up and blinked a few times it disappeared, but it still scared the crap out of me. It still freaks me out. I hate going to my parents house especially if I know I have to sleep there. It's the worst. And that's it. That's the scary dream/waking life event that has scarred me for forever. The end.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
So I'm just going to rant and rave about my stupid money issues here because I can and because I've been doing math for the last hour trying to figure out how to afford things. I want to save up my money for a puppy and for a new computer and maybe...maybe for a house. I don't want to jinx anything about a house and I know it's really stupid to be looking for one right now cuz we're super poor, but I really hate living in apartments. They're expensive and small and you can't do anything and you will always have annoying neighbors with yappy, little dogs and loud banging in odd hours of the night. I hate my neighbors if you can't tell. Ugh! They are so annoying. They constantly stomp around and they have this little, ugly, stupid dog that barks at EVERYTHING it sees and hears. I want to kill it. Literally. I would shoot that thing if I could. Steal it, skin it, package the meat, put it on their doorstep, and wear the skin as boots. And when the boots have gone out of fashion, I'd use them as toilet paper and watch it drown in my fecal matter. That is how much I hate that dog. Anyway, back to the money part...I have done some math stuffs trying to determine how much money I'll have by the end of the year/my birthday through saving and I will still be really poor. My savings account is full of spiderwebs right now, but hopefully I'll get some stuff in there. I'm trying to budget things and not spend unless I absolutely have to which is pretty difficult for me. I hate being impulsive. Anyway...I can't decide if I want I want to save my money for. I REALLY want a puppy. Cam does too...but the dog that we want is about $875 I think...and then it costs $425 to ship it out here. So that's $1300 just for the puppy alone. Then there's vet costs, food costs, micro chips, collars, tags, cleaning supplies, toys, and pet fees for the apartment. It bums me out. Cam said that we'd get on the waiting list for the dog on my birthday. But my math is not in the green from my calculations. Granted that's only from my income and I've been estimating low, but still. I think Cam is going to start is own savings account. I don't know how that's going to workout. It makes me nervous cuz he's not as good with money as I am. I don't know. And I really want a new computer. I hate Cam's computer. Windows 8 confuses the hell out of me. I try to click on something and then something else pops up and then it tells me that I can't do something and I get pissed and give up. Buuuuuut...when I look at prices on the Apple Store's website I go into a deep depression. I can't decide if I want to get a iMac or a MacBook Pro. An iMac is what I want, but for the time being, a MacBook is more practical. There isn't space in this tiny apartment for a desk for an iMac, but I think we'll be moving out of this place 7 months (and to be honest, I don't even think I'll have enough saved up for a new computer in 7 months), so I don't know what I'll get. I think the iMacs are cheaper. And I like the feel of a mouse a million times better than a trackpad. But if I got the iMac I'd get a trackpad for it anyway. I just don't know what I want. Is it weird that I like to fake plan? That what this whole day has been for me. I've been doing monetary calculations and planned out my whole life for the next 2 months even though I know none of it is going to happen. It makes me feel safe...cuz I'm a control freak. And I hate the unknown. It makes me nervous and I feel like I'm going to drown. I totally need drugs (and by that I mean prescribed drugs). Not that I'd take them anyway. Oh! and another thing I would add to my list of things to save for: a tattoo. Yes, I know I'm a heathen for wanting one (or 20). But I've always wanted tattoos so the whole world can suck it. But I don't know if my skin would react well with ink since it's so sensitive and hates me. Well, you know what, skin? I hate you, too! It's been getting better a little bit. By this time last year I would have been covered in one giant rash from head to toe and I've only got a little on my wrists and a patch on my neck. And two years ago I would have basically been trapped in my house and the year before I would have been crying cuz it hurt so bad and would have been trapped in my house and wishing that I could illegally purchase steroids to make it better. Maybe by this time next year it'll be all gone and I'll have perfect skin again (yeah right). I'm so optimistic...not. I'm not optimistic, I'm not pessimistic, I am realistic. And proud of it. I have a feeling that this is going to be a really long post because I have to much to write about. Maybe I should divide this into different sections so it flows better. Oh my goodness, so the other night I had a dream about my dad. It was the strangest dream I think I have ever had. If anybody is reading this, which I highly doubt, you should know that I am really weird about dreams. I think dreams are real. More like...I don't know how to explain it. Dreams have meaning. I feel like dreams are a way of conveying a message whether that be from my subconscious (or a sixth sense), someone else, or something else. This is going to sound extremely crazy, but sometimes I think dreams happen in a different dimension. Like our souls leave our bodies and float around in the astral plane and our physical bodies try to interpret what we see or have seen. That sounds really kooky and I don't even care. But I think this because my dreams are so vivid and slightly realistic and they freak me out. Anyway, back to my dream about my dad...since it was a few days ago, I don't remember all the details. I should have written it down, but I don't know where I put my dream journal. But I dreamt that my dad was okay with me. It is the first dream I've had about my dad where he wasn't yelling at me or angry with me. The first one ever. That's why it stuck with me. It was so weird. Gosh, I wish I could remember the details! I told Cam, but I highly doubt he remembers cuz I tell him my dreams all the time and they probably just blend into one another. But my dad basically told me he cared about me and that he was okay with me not going to school. He told me that everything was going to be alright. It disturbed me. Ever since I can remember I've only had dreams about my dad yelling at me or getting mad at me for something I did. There was a time that I would have dreams about tornadoes at least once a week and they didn't stop until I realized that the tornado was representing my dad. My mom is rarely ever in my dreams and if she is she's either dead, dying, or had disappeared. My sister only appears in my dreams if she's yelling or angry with me. My brother is only ever in my dreams if he's dead, dying, or has disappeared. That's weird. I should look that up. I need a shower.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Okay, this stupid blog needs to stop asking me to post this to Google+ because I'm not going to post this to Google+. Anyway, I know it's been over a year since I last updated this blog (I think) and I want to get back into it. I've had three days off from work which is immensely crazy in two ways. One, I actually got three days off in a row. And two, I've been going nuts trying to figure out what to do. So whilst being bored and watching LA Ink on Netflix, I decided to whip out my handy-dandy sketch book and just start doodling away. I haven't done that in the longest time. I just don't have time to do it anymore which is really discouraging. I know I'm not the best doodler out there, but sometimes drawing really makes me feel better. To be honest, I feel like I'm getting better at realistic drawings, yet I also feel like I'm getting worse at the comic/cartoon part. I'm still definitely better at making cartoon figures than making something look like it came straight off the camera. I don't know. Anyway, as I was drawing away looking at the super cool tattoos on the TV, I decided to look for my old blogging binder that housed all of my drawings that I had scanned or needed to scan for this here blog. And I found it! I mean I knew exactly where it was, but I had forgotten all of the awesome things that I had put inside of it. I found this weird little comic that I think I drew in one of my art classes (I scanned it and was going to post it, but I didn't realize that it cut off the bottom three inches until now and I'm too lazy to get up and re-scan it) that I wanted to post. And I also thought of this sweet-o neat-o idea. I want to cross-stitch some of my drawings. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!?!?! Yes. And just in case you're going to ask (which I know you won't because at this point NOBODY reads this thing) yes, I know how to cross-stitch and yes, I love it. I learned how to do it in my high school crafts class that I took as a BS class to fill up time and I've been wanting to actually make something and hang them all over my nifty apartment because the walls are bare and figured that I could make patterns of my drawings and when people see them they can be all like, "Whoa, man, that's so frickin' cool! I wish I had some of those sweet-o neat-o cross-stitchy artworks hanging up on my wall!" That was the longest run-on sentence I have ever made. Also, yes my friends would talk like that because I'm pretty sure that most of them are high all the time. And to answer your other question: no, I am not high all the time, I am not high now, nor have I ever been high. I know some of you might find that surprising, but I really have no plan on using drugs. Hugs not drugs, kids. Anyway I think I'm going to skedaddle and leave you with a drawing of a little cat that I named Sebastian and a little fox that I named Foxy :)