Cursed Practice

So I went a-writing yesterday and it was pretty sweet except for the fact that I couldn't remember where I left off in my book. I don't know how long it has been since I wrote about the misadventures of my character, Cid, but I had to reread three chapters just to remember what things were like in his world. No good.

I bellow at my students often enough about the importance of practicing one's writing. And though I try to keep this up to not lose touch with the writer within, I don't write near as much. It's probably Warcraft's fault...that game ruins lives.

No excuses, though. Only explanations. I need to keep up. I must. The lives of my characters depend on it.

Good Food and Good Health

I feel so much better today! I don't know if my simile maker is working any better, though, so I'll stay away from comparisons. Anyhow, I've got loads of energy, and my classes have been super fun today, albeit not too productive (General English).

Tonight I get Indian food (drool). I think if I had to live on only one things for the rest of my life, it would have to be some kind of Indian dish: Chicken Madras or Reshmi Kabob. Best food ever, though I also just got a craving for pizza...weird.

Anyway, I need to find something worthwhile to write about one of these days. But for now, too bad, I guess.

Ah, to be Young...and Sick.

So I'm home from work today, sick as a duck in a sewer (I don't know. Don't ask.). It's really irritating, and not much fun at all. And I wonder, I wah-wah-wah-wah-wonder when it stopped being awesome to stay home sick.

I used to try to stay home a lot when I was a kid, and my Mom was pretty balanced about how often and for how long I should stay home. Now it just blows like a tire pump (seriously, what's with my similes today?).

Anyhow, I might load more stuff onto my Deviant Art page and get some grading done, but grr. Life is like a box of Peeps. I hate Peeps.

What a Weekend...

Overall boring, but eventful...sort of.

My wife was out of town, so that meant starting the weekend with the Smiths. At this point life was sweet as they always give me good food and hearty conversation. We saw Burn After Reading on Friday. Pure awesome. And ate burgers and the like.

Saturday was the more boring side of things. Generally, Saturdays are packed with all sorts of good things, but this one just seemed dull. So eventually, I started a Deviant Art page. This was pretty sweet. I really dig photography, but I never know what to do with it once I take a picture. So now i feel like I have some kind of creative outlet.

Sunday left my fantasy football devastated...and not just a little.

That's the quick whatever of my life. I'm tired from Aikido, so I don't feel much like writing. See ya.

Dreaming Again

Last night I dreamed that a bunch of ten-year-olds had broke into my house and ransacked the place. I called the police, but they weren't open until 8:00 a.m. Luckily, the perpetrators came back to apologize for wrecking the drum-set and keying the Prius. Their parents were furious with them as they drug them around by the ear. I guess it's time I finished Half Moon Investigations.

Makes me want to thank all the good parents out there that would nearly rip their child's ear off for doing something so stupid and punch the parents that have raise little hellions and don't care.

The weekend is bound to be full of many video games as the wife will be out of town. I also plan on seeing Fame performed at the high school.

Nothing to Say.

I can't think of much to say today. Maybe I'm just tired. Anyway, take a picture, and I'll talk to you later.

Makes You Feel Good

Yesterday, I had a colleague say, "You're doing a hell of a job in there, damn it." It sounded a little awkward, as if he didn't swear much normally, but it raised my spirits until they were pressed against the ceiling tiles.

I suppose many people wonder if they do their jobs well and whether they make a difference is somebody's life, so it was awesome to hear some kind of reinforcement. It makes me wonder why people don't give more positive feedback. Do they realize how it feels to be told that what they do makes things better for somebody else? It reminds me of the Family Guy episode in which a murderer pokes himself with a knife. "Is that what I've been doing to people? I belong here." It makes me think that not enough people have been told that they are worthwhile. They don't realized how it makes the soul swell and hug you from inside.

Thank you Mr. Doughty for the soul hug.

Odd Little Spiritual Insight

I preach at my church from time to time (once a month for now), and I was trying to think of something to say for one of my weekends. I don't know where it came from but, I think that Satan is just like my cat. For those of you who don't like cats, this comparison is nothing knew. In fact, I think cats are the animals that are most frequently compare to the devil. But the epiphany hit me (it didn't hurt too bad though) like this.

Everyday I get up and get ready for my day, and before I leave the house, I looked moderately spiffy. On most days, but especially those when I wear black pants, my cats decides to rub against my leg, leaving a trail of orange a white hair that can never be gotten off by just the brush of a hand. The hair, of course, represents sin and all of its annoying traits: it seems harmless but you don't want others to notice, and you can't just shake yourself free of it.

The analogy goes on to compare the Holy Spirit to a lint roller or something like that. But I won't bother describing that.

That's Creepy.

I had a student say that pure water tasted like crap.

"How do you know that?" I asked. He was stumped and the class laughed.

I don't mind the occasional butchering of language. As an English teacher, I try to keep in mind that language evolves, and there's not much I can do about it. But I have to wonder how so many think so little about what they say. When profanity becomes the every-word, it doesn't bother me that vocabulary skills are so low or that it can be offensive. It bothers me more that it sounds stupid. So stupid, that I have to take them seriously.

Nobody likes when a person takes everything literally. I say, though, you have to do what you can when a person says, with passion and conviction, that they have put something in their mouth and that something reminded them of feces.

I Will Not Forget

I can't think of the last time I wrote on a Friday, so I wanted to make sure that I did it this time.

Casual Friday is a joy. Where I work, the dress code is awesome anyway, allowing for comfort regardless of what day of the week. But Friday is always nice because I can usually count on everybody else to be as chill about their dress as I am.

However, I've often thought that Monday should be the universal not-get-too-dressed-up-for-work day. Because Mondays universally feel long, sluggish, and stupid throughout, it seems to make more sense to me to allow employees to dress down. I suppose the reason this doesn't exist is people may come in and reflect their weekend activities a bit too much. They may walk in wearing the same thing they were wearing on Friday because they felt no reason to dress up and therefore reek of ill-chosen entertainment.

In other news, my allergies suck. Every day this week, I've wanted to pull my eyes out of my head and go over them with a belt sander.

Compensation Photo

Since I've been slipping on the writing front, I wanted to throw up something (hurl) even if it isn't writing oriented as compensation.

Remembering Dreams

So I forgot to write on Monday because I thought it was still Sunday. Yesterday, I had no excuse save that of completely forgetting. I guess that the whole accountability thing is thrown off if I just plain forget. Oh well. I even had something to say...I think. I can't remember for sure. Either way, thanks to Click-Track Heart, I have inspiration for today.

Two nights ago, I dreamed that I took a shower in my cubicle at work. Aside from having a shower head out of my desk, the dream seemed almost normal. You know, getting nude in the office, scrubbing my never-seen-the-sun parts of me. All in a day's work. The really weird part is that after my shower in plain view, I didn't like the clothes I had picked out for myself. They didn't match (should've been first clue. The day I notice my clothes not matching, I'll know somebody took my brain and replaced it with something that cares.) I wanted to change my pants, but I was too shy and embarrassed to change them in front of my colleagues.

I woke up in a usual way-no sweat or panting. And I think that it goes to show that the dreams that don't disrupt your slumber are really the ones that wring your brain.

The Weekend That Was

I totally forgot about writing yesterday; thought it was still the weekend.

The weekend was pretty sweet, allergies aside. And despite spending a good chunk of time on Sunday helping my friend move from apartment to house, life was peachy...like an orchard. Anyhow the main thing I want to talk about is Death Race.

How weird is it to go see a movie because you know it's bad. If you've never seen Death Race 2000, you should...maybe. It's a whole bunch of suck, but it's really funny in how bad it truly is. I don't know who thought it should be resurrected, but they should probably be shot or given a medal. Honestly, the appeal of going to see a movie because you are not interested, but excited, to see it for its bad qualities.

I blame Chris. Before he moved here, I would never see a movie like that, not in the theatre anyway. However, he has opened my eyes to the magic of bad cinema (though that's too classy a term for movies such as these). So thank you, Chris. I thought after Beowulf, there could be no other to fill the crap-tastic void in my entertainment-obsessed brain. Now, I can live again.