So, how's the internet world doing this fine afternoon?
Sorry it has been so long, I have had trouble thinkin' of things to write about... Alright, that's a lie, I've just been very lazy lately.
Anywho; So, I've been debating back and forth on two things I should do during the summer, Football and Marching Band. It's been a well fought debate on both sides, so I just started asking around. I had 3 Football votes, 5 Marching Band and like 30 do what you want votes. Oh, ya and on Pokemon Club vote. So I decided to make a list of pros and cons for each one.
Football Pros
Well, it helps me get in shape, thats fer sure.
I'd get to hang around with Sean...
Football Cons
I'm not to good at it.
I don't know any of the people.
I could seriously hurt myself.
I wouldn't really get to play much.
Marching Band Pros
I'm much, much, much better at it.
I have a chance of getting a scholarship with the instrument.
I could make some new friends.
I always get to participate.
Marching Band Cons
It's very tiresome.
I don't know to many people.
Well... That does it! Marching Band it is! You guys were all a great help, thanks for helping me decide. Anyway, that was really the main point to this post so... Ummmmm...
Bye?
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Music
Music. It makes the world go round. I stops those who are at the edge from going over. Or, it sends them over the edge. Music also affects the mood of the listener.
Have you ever noticed that?
I could be perfectly happy, getting along with my siblings or doing something with my friends then --WHAM-- a heavy rock song, like Sweating Bullets by Megadeath, I really like comes on. Next thing I now I'm irritated at everything and everybody. Things that my friends always did that annoyed me that I've managed to ignore become ten times worse, and I just want to be alone and be angry.
But then there's softer music, like Superman (It's Not Easy) by Five for Fighting, or something like that comes on. I start to feel down. I try to avoid those songs at all costs. It's good music but not fun.
Then there's the upbeat music that makes you want to jump around and sing to it. Like Take Me On by A-ha. There's a good song. I'm trying to figure out how to abduct it from my dad. I can't find his cd of A-ha. But I know he's got the music.
Anyway...
Play me out, Johnny!
*Leaves to a catchy upbeat piano tune*
Have you ever noticed that?
I could be perfectly happy, getting along with my siblings or doing something with my friends then --WHAM-- a heavy rock song, like Sweating Bullets by Megadeath, I really like comes on. Next thing I now I'm irritated at everything and everybody. Things that my friends always did that annoyed me that I've managed to ignore become ten times worse, and I just want to be alone and be angry.
But then there's softer music, like Superman (It's Not Easy) by Five for Fighting, or something like that comes on. I start to feel down. I try to avoid those songs at all costs. It's good music but not fun.
Then there's the upbeat music that makes you want to jump around and sing to it. Like Take Me On by A-ha. There's a good song. I'm trying to figure out how to abduct it from my dad. I can't find his cd of A-ha. But I know he's got the music.
Anyway...
Play me out, Johnny!
*Leaves to a catchy upbeat piano tune*
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Part of Chapter One of My Book
“Hey, Ki.” a kid (Ryd I think) said in High Haltarian, using my name instead of some spiteful nickname, “Care to join us in a game of Combat?”
This should have been my first clue that something was amiss, but I wanted so much to be included and liked that I dared believe that they had a change of heart and actually wanted me to join their group.
“Ya,” Ty began calmly, “We're one player short from an even four teams.”
“Ummmm, y-yes, I would like to play” I should have turned and ran at the looks they were giving each other, but as I said before, I wanted so much to be accepted, to have friends.
“Excellent, here's your weapon.” He said, handing me a three foot stick. He then turned to a friend and said something in Common that I didn't understand. I only know the basics of Common, but he must have said something funny, 'cause the rest of the group burst out laughing.
I let a grin appear on my face, trying to look like I understood and thought it was mildly funny.
“Okay, here's your teammates.” He said gesturing to three other kids that I didn't know the name of. “Ready everyone. 'Kay, Start!”
He said this so fast that I didn't even have time to bring my stick up. The first and only thing I knew after that was pain. It seemed that even my own team was mercilessly beating me with their sticks. I threw my stick to the ground yelling “'Kay, 'kay, I'm dead!”
Somewhere deep inside me I knew this was probably going to happen, but that truthful feeling was overwhelmed with the desire to be accepted by these bullies.
I fell to my knees and covered my head with my arms, the beating was getting more ferocious. Every now and then I'd feel a kick to my side or a solid jab of a stick through my defenses and into my head.
I knew I was bleeding, but I didn't know from where. I knew I was in pain, but I couldn't pinpoint a specific spot. I was slowly loosing my senses, my ability to feel was replaced with agonizing pain. All I heard was my own screams and sobs and their laughter. All I saw was flying sticks, shoes and fists. I could only taste blood. I could smell my own fear, and the sweat, the blood and soon the smell of urine as I lost control of my facilities.
This should have been my first clue that something was amiss, but I wanted so much to be included and liked that I dared believe that they had a change of heart and actually wanted me to join their group.
“Ya,” Ty began calmly, “We're one player short from an even four teams.”
“Ummmm, y-yes, I would like to play” I should have turned and ran at the looks they were giving each other, but as I said before, I wanted so much to be accepted, to have friends.
“Excellent, here's your weapon.” He said, handing me a three foot stick. He then turned to a friend and said something in Common that I didn't understand. I only know the basics of Common, but he must have said something funny, 'cause the rest of the group burst out laughing.
I let a grin appear on my face, trying to look like I understood and thought it was mildly funny.
“Okay, here's your teammates.” He said gesturing to three other kids that I didn't know the name of. “Ready everyone. 'Kay, Start!”
He said this so fast that I didn't even have time to bring my stick up. The first and only thing I knew after that was pain. It seemed that even my own team was mercilessly beating me with their sticks. I threw my stick to the ground yelling “'Kay, 'kay, I'm dead!”
Somewhere deep inside me I knew this was probably going to happen, but that truthful feeling was overwhelmed with the desire to be accepted by these bullies.
I fell to my knees and covered my head with my arms, the beating was getting more ferocious. Every now and then I'd feel a kick to my side or a solid jab of a stick through my defenses and into my head.
I knew I was bleeding, but I didn't know from where. I knew I was in pain, but I couldn't pinpoint a specific spot. I was slowly loosing my senses, my ability to feel was replaced with agonizing pain. All I heard was my own screams and sobs and their laughter. All I saw was flying sticks, shoes and fists. I could only taste blood. I could smell my own fear, and the sweat, the blood and soon the smell of urine as I lost control of my facilities.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
DOWN! SET! HIKE!
Hallo, mein Freunds!
It's November if you haven't noticed! Awesome, right?
But that's not the point of this blog post. I'm here to talk about football. No, not Fußball, nor Soccer. I mean good old American Football!
I actually played on a football team. The T-Wolves. It was during my eight grade year, and I sucked. I couldn't figure out why for quite a while. It wasn't for the lack of effort, I assure you. I tried, I really did. But I just seemed to have absolutely no talent. It got to the point that by the end of the season I never wanted to look at a football again.
But over the Off-Season and this most recent season I did some real thinking. And I came to the conclusion that two things were stopping me from playing my best.
Reason 1
Confidence. It's important in any case. Whether it be interviewing for a job or playing football. If you don't have confidence then you don't have a chance.
Well, I lost mine the very first practice I went two. It really started when I lined up to tackle someone. I thought I was a very successful tackler, I could take down people two grades up from me. So I charged him, ready to hit him hard. And when we made contact I did what I always did while tackling. I swung around his neck. Immediately the Coaches shouted me down, I felt like an idiot. Ever since then I didn't have and confidence.
Reason 2
Ferocity is also important. Maybe not as important as confidence but definitely important. For this one I blame my parents. They trained violence right out me. Now, Papa, (who I can see shaking his head in disbeleif) siblings don't count. I used to really be a hardcore sports player, but my parents would always get mad at me for doing such. So eventually it became second nature to just not make contact with people while playing sports. And that carried on the football. So thanks Mom and Dad.
And personally that's what I think was wrong with the last time I played. True, I had never played before, but all the same.
So now I'm going to try again, this time with a little experience under my belt and I'm ready to hit some people!
Any who... I hope you enjoyed this installment of "A Very Sage Blog"
Coming Soon To Theaters Near You!
Created by The Card
It's November if you haven't noticed! Awesome, right?
But that's not the point of this blog post. I'm here to talk about football. No, not Fußball, nor Soccer. I mean good old American Football!
I actually played on a football team. The T-Wolves. It was during my eight grade year, and I sucked. I couldn't figure out why for quite a while. It wasn't for the lack of effort, I assure you. I tried, I really did. But I just seemed to have absolutely no talent. It got to the point that by the end of the season I never wanted to look at a football again.
But over the Off-Season and this most recent season I did some real thinking. And I came to the conclusion that two things were stopping me from playing my best.
- Confidence
- Ferocity
Reason 1
Confidence. It's important in any case. Whether it be interviewing for a job or playing football. If you don't have confidence then you don't have a chance.
Well, I lost mine the very first practice I went two. It really started when I lined up to tackle someone. I thought I was a very successful tackler, I could take down people two grades up from me. So I charged him, ready to hit him hard. And when we made contact I did what I always did while tackling. I swung around his neck. Immediately the Coaches shouted me down, I felt like an idiot. Ever since then I didn't have and confidence.
Reason 2
Ferocity is also important. Maybe not as important as confidence but definitely important. For this one I blame my parents. They trained violence right out me. Now, Papa, (who I can see shaking his head in disbeleif) siblings don't count. I used to really be a hardcore sports player, but my parents would always get mad at me for doing such. So eventually it became second nature to just not make contact with people while playing sports. And that carried on the football. So thanks Mom and Dad.
And personally that's what I think was wrong with the last time I played. True, I had never played before, but all the same.
So now I'm going to try again, this time with a little experience under my belt and I'm ready to hit some people!
Any who... I hope you enjoyed this installment of "A Very Sage Blog"
Coming Soon To Theaters Near You!
Created by The Card
Friday, October 29, 2010
A Good Author
You know, I recently finished a very good series. The series name, you may ask, was the Hunger Games Series. I had already thought that the author, Suzanne Collins, was a brilliant minded individual, but that was increased ten fold when I got to the end of the series.
[Warning, spoiler alert! Please skip the next paragraph if you plan on reading the series at any time]
I had just reached the point in which Prim (the main character's, Katniss, sister and a sweet, wonderful character) was blown up in a explosion that was set up by their own side to get the war to end faster. It wouldn't have been so bad, except for the bombs were dropped into a building full of children and Prim was a medic that rushed in to help. But unfortunately a second wave of bombs finish off the children and the barely thirteen-year-old Prim, a girl that Katniss was dedicated to protecting all throughout the series.
For those who skipped the last paragraph, a main character just died and it was in a very horrible way. I was understandably shocked. I mean, so many of the characters you already thought were safe were killed, this just wasn't expected. For I while I stared blankly at that one point on the page, not willing to take in what I just read. Then finally, I moved on, eyes skimming down the page, taking in only half the words. When I found out that the people thought to be responsible weren't responsible and it was [Warning another spoiler alert, please skip the rest of this sentence] in fact their allies I nearly threw the book at the wall. I was angry. At the author for doing this, at the people in the book, at the world in general. I know it may sound absurd, but apparently (contrary to what I say) I really get involved in books.
When I woke up the next morning, after finishing the book that night, I began to admire the author. Somehow, she managed to evoke feeling that people in person can't get me to show. Nor feel, for that matter. I found myself wishing that I was that good, that somewhere I could make someone sad, angry, or happy for that matter, because of a few well placed words. Suzanne Collins really made me think about writing in a different matter. Instead of just words on paper to entertain people for a while, it could be a heart wrenching moment in which people are dumbfounded because of the feelings they have never felt before.
Yes, yes indeed. You can really tell if the author is a good one if, at the end of the series, you find yourself wishing there was more, or you are angry at them for what they did in said series.
Well... This blog was much deeper then I meant it to be... So, ummm...
Auf Weidersehen...
[Warning, spoiler alert! Please skip the next paragraph if you plan on reading the series at any time]
I had just reached the point in which Prim (the main character's, Katniss, sister and a sweet, wonderful character) was blown up in a explosion that was set up by their own side to get the war to end faster. It wouldn't have been so bad, except for the bombs were dropped into a building full of children and Prim was a medic that rushed in to help. But unfortunately a second wave of bombs finish off the children and the barely thirteen-year-old Prim, a girl that Katniss was dedicated to protecting all throughout the series.
For those who skipped the last paragraph, a main character just died and it was in a very horrible way. I was understandably shocked. I mean, so many of the characters you already thought were safe were killed, this just wasn't expected. For I while I stared blankly at that one point on the page, not willing to take in what I just read. Then finally, I moved on, eyes skimming down the page, taking in only half the words. When I found out that the people thought to be responsible weren't responsible and it was [Warning another spoiler alert, please skip the rest of this sentence] in fact their allies I nearly threw the book at the wall. I was angry. At the author for doing this, at the people in the book, at the world in general. I know it may sound absurd, but apparently (contrary to what I say) I really get involved in books.
When I woke up the next morning, after finishing the book that night, I began to admire the author. Somehow, she managed to evoke feeling that people in person can't get me to show. Nor feel, for that matter. I found myself wishing that I was that good, that somewhere I could make someone sad, angry, or happy for that matter, because of a few well placed words. Suzanne Collins really made me think about writing in a different matter. Instead of just words on paper to entertain people for a while, it could be a heart wrenching moment in which people are dumbfounded because of the feelings they have never felt before.
Yes, yes indeed. You can really tell if the author is a good one if, at the end of the series, you find yourself wishing there was more, or you are angry at them for what they did in said series.
Well... This blog was much deeper then I meant it to be... So, ummm...
Auf Weidersehen...
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
A Lesson Learned
Hello, people of the internet world, how fair you?
Good? That's good. How am I? Well that's nice of you to ask... I would of told you even if you didn't ask, but it was still kind of you. I'm pretty good... Learned a very valuable lesson about five minutes ago. What was that lesson, you ask? And if you didn't, too freakin' bad. Oh sorry, didn't mean to be rude, let me rephrase that: Well, let me tell you anyway. Happy? Good, I'm not. ;)
Wait, wasn't I about to tell you about my lesson I learned earlier? Wow, you really know how to get me off task, so be quiet for a sec, 'kay?
Anyway, the lesson. So most of you know I'm writing a couple of books, right? One with my friend, the other by myself. Well right now I'm in the process of writing down notes for the characters in the book I'm writing alone.
Oh, one sec... Sorry about that, someone was at the door. It was very rude of them to interrupt me while I'm writing my blog, don't you think so?
Anyway, where was I... Oh, yeah, the character notes for the book I'm writing by myself. Well, that is my least favorite part of writing the book, the character notes. But unfortunately it's needed when writing. Anyway, so I had just finished writing down the notes for three other characters when I decided I should pay the Sandman a visit... That's were I made my fatal mistake. I did not Ctrl-S before I left the computer. I mean, I didn't see the reason, I was gonna continue to work on it tomorrow so why Ctrl-S it? Well, somehow my computer got unplugged and all that work went for a ride down the Great Pearly White One.
As you can imagine that was very frustrating. Now I have to do all that work all over again. But I did learn the lesson... Always Ctrl-S. I mean, come on, look at all the great people in history. Moses Ctrl-S the Jews from slavery. George Washington Ctrl-S all the Americans from a unfair government. And I couldn't Ctrl-S one stupid document! Oh well, it happened... I'll have to do it all again... But, as stated earlier in case you weren't listening, I've learned my lesson. For now on, I'll Ctrl-S!
Anyway, I have to go clean up a but of Dog feces from the front room carpet.
Tchüss.
Good? That's good. How am I? Well that's nice of you to ask... I would of told you even if you didn't ask, but it was still kind of you. I'm pretty good... Learned a very valuable lesson about five minutes ago. What was that lesson, you ask? And if you didn't, too freakin' bad. Oh sorry, didn't mean to be rude, let me rephrase that: Well, let me tell you anyway. Happy? Good, I'm not. ;)
Wait, wasn't I about to tell you about my lesson I learned earlier? Wow, you really know how to get me off task, so be quiet for a sec, 'kay?
Anyway, the lesson. So most of you know I'm writing a couple of books, right? One with my friend, the other by myself. Well right now I'm in the process of writing down notes for the characters in the book I'm writing alone.
Oh, one sec... Sorry about that, someone was at the door. It was very rude of them to interrupt me while I'm writing my blog, don't you think so?
Anyway, where was I... Oh, yeah, the character notes for the book I'm writing by myself. Well, that is my least favorite part of writing the book, the character notes. But unfortunately it's needed when writing. Anyway, so I had just finished writing down the notes for three other characters when I decided I should pay the Sandman a visit... That's were I made my fatal mistake. I did not Ctrl-S before I left the computer. I mean, I didn't see the reason, I was gonna continue to work on it tomorrow so why Ctrl-S it? Well, somehow my computer got unplugged and all that work went for a ride down the Great Pearly White One.
As you can imagine that was very frustrating. Now I have to do all that work all over again. But I did learn the lesson... Always Ctrl-S. I mean, come on, look at all the great people in history. Moses Ctrl-S the Jews from slavery. George Washington Ctrl-S all the Americans from a unfair government. And I couldn't Ctrl-S one stupid document! Oh well, it happened... I'll have to do it all again... But, as stated earlier in case you weren't listening, I've learned my lesson. For now on, I'll Ctrl-S!
Anyway, I have to go clean up a but of Dog feces from the front room carpet.
Tchüss.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Pumpkin Carving, An In Depth Anlysis
You know, when you think about it, Pumpkin Carving is grotesque. If you really think about it, Halloween itself is rather grotesque. Fun, but yet grotesque.
I mean, Pumpkin Carving is basically killing a plant, scooping out its guts, cooking them and eating them, then carving a face in the empty husk that use to be a plant. And you don't even use something to numb the pain. It reminds me of the beginning of "Its the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" (Which is the only part I've seen of that movie) Where that girl and her little brother bring a big pumpkin back to their house and when the sister starts to carve it the little brother looks horrified and says, "You didn't tell me you were gonna kill it!".
I mean, think about it from the pumpkins point of view. This time of year is the worst for it. There are sudden disappearances. It's probably like an alien abductions. The pumpkins that are too small and returned instead of carved tell all the other pumpkins that there were these ugly humanoid creatures that took them and some others and massacred the others.
All the other pumpkins would be in a panic, world wide chaos in the pumpkin world.
Then there's the actual holiday of Halloween, were we encourage kids to dress up as murderers, witches, and monsters. When you really think about it, its rather wrong.
But that doesn't stop me (the ultimate optimist) from seeing the good side of Halloween. Staying out late with your friends, getting candy, and scaring little children... That's what Halloween is really about. Except, scaring little kids isn't fun unless you get their candy in the mean time. Scare 'em to the point that they drop their candy and run. That's what it's all about.
BOO! Scared you didn't I? I did, well, I can see your getting angry, I should probably leave...
Card Kid out! Peace!
I mean, Pumpkin Carving is basically killing a plant, scooping out its guts, cooking them and eating them, then carving a face in the empty husk that use to be a plant. And you don't even use something to numb the pain. It reminds me of the beginning of "Its the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" (Which is the only part I've seen of that movie) Where that girl and her little brother bring a big pumpkin back to their house and when the sister starts to carve it the little brother looks horrified and says, "You didn't tell me you were gonna kill it!".
I mean, think about it from the pumpkins point of view. This time of year is the worst for it. There are sudden disappearances. It's probably like an alien abductions. The pumpkins that are too small and returned instead of carved tell all the other pumpkins that there were these ugly humanoid creatures that took them and some others and massacred the others.
All the other pumpkins would be in a panic, world wide chaos in the pumpkin world.
Then there's the actual holiday of Halloween, were we encourage kids to dress up as murderers, witches, and monsters. When you really think about it, its rather wrong.
But that doesn't stop me (the ultimate optimist) from seeing the good side of Halloween. Staying out late with your friends, getting candy, and scaring little children... That's what Halloween is really about. Except, scaring little kids isn't fun unless you get their candy in the mean time. Scare 'em to the point that they drop their candy and run. That's what it's all about.
BOO! Scared you didn't I? I did, well, I can see your getting angry, I should probably leave...
Card Kid out! Peace!
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