Remember when you were little and you used to get the little blue net from under the fish tank-
that was supposed to be only used for fish, but you didn't care because a net was a net
-get a jar or a clear glass bowl from the kitchen cupboard, and then go outside and catch one of the many, many yellow jackets flying around? Remember how they'd be so mad and you could hear their angry buzzing through the glass and you just knew that, even if you were to let them out right then in a gesture of peace, the second they were out, your ass was grass?
What? Just me?
Well, my brain has been feeling like that, lately. Like a clear glass jar with a couple yellow jackets buzzing around furiously, hitting their little yellow jacket heads against the glass so it makes little 'dink' noises. I can't stick with anything for more than am minute or so before I get the urge to run around or so something else, and usually by the time I start on the next thing, I suddenly have the urge to do something else-else, which I guess keeps me busy but it's always weird thinking about 'whoa, I've done so much today!' only to actually have fifteen different things in varying stages of 'almost halfway done'.
Me and my brother from another mother (who is actually my sister from another mother but 'brother' works better in that phrase-thing and also she's not really my sister just my best friend) are tentatively working on story thing which is neat-o because she never writes nor has shown any interest in writing since we were highschool and we did that God-awful stereotypical medieval stasis chosen one fantasy steaming pile of crap. We got all of like fifty thousand words done before we realized that:
1. About 30,000 of those craptacular words could cut without hurting anything, and
2. We had no idea how this was going to end anyways. Besides, wasn't there something cool on TV right now? Come on, we can leave it here for a bit, it's not like it's going anywhere. . .
It's going to be crap, I know, but it's still fun throwing ideas at one another. Right now it's just a match to see who can out-quirk the other with funny weirdness.
Yesterday after work, my mom kidnapped me to a BBQ. See, a few months ago, the church more or less let go of Pastor Carl and his wife because they (the church) are cheap bastards who thought they could save money by having one children's ministries pastor go back and forth between San Jose and Milpitas, rather than have two pastors working each location. Since then, they've managed to hook my mother into church hopping with them and their son. Every Sunday they visit a different place (Unless it's like the beginning of an interesting segment, in which case they'll stay the whole two or three weeks until it's done), then go out to lunch. Since they've started, my brother has started going with them.
Yesterday, they decided to have a BBQ at their place. Mom picked me up from work and I fell asleep in the car until we hit the highway.
Zeph: *groggily waking up and realizing something is WRONG* Highway? Huh? Highway? There's no highway to our house!
Zephmom: We're not going home. We're going to Pastor Carl and Tanya's.
Zeph: But I want to go home! I've got Spanish homework and a couple things I want to do. . .
Zephmom: Too bad. They saved you a hamburger.
Zeph: *laying back in the seat* This is technically kidnapping, you know.
Zephmom: Tell the cops. Tell them your mother kidnapped you to a BBQ where you'll be surrounded by people who love you unconditionally and saved you a hamburger. I'm sure they'll rush right over.
So that was nice. Ticked Meg off a bit 'cause I didn't respond to her email when I said I would, but we were texting to each other the whole time anyway so it's not like it mattered.
After the BBQ, while they were loading us up with food to take home, Tanya took me aside and gave me a box of calligraphy stuff. Inks and jars of inks and pens and papers and little pamphlets and a thing of nibs I don't know how to work. I almost cried, I was so happy. I don't now the first damned thing about calligraphy, but it's so cool!
Also, that ink really stains. Like, I've been scrubbing my hand on and off for the past day, but my fingers are still stained. O_O"
Inform7. I like it. I'm just playing with it now. I don't even have a story or plot or anything, I'm just having fun making it possible to kick stuff and poke stuff and I made it possible to write with a magic marker and I figured out how to give pants pockets. :D
Saturday I went to a casino and gambled with real money for the first time ever. It was fun for like the first ten minutes, but then I got bored. But I went with my grandma and grandpa and mom, and my grandparents are the stereotypical little old people going to gamble and bingo and they know all the ins and outs, so we were there for a couple hours. I went in with twenty dollars and came out with twenty-once dollars and some change. A net gain for our family!
Just got my history essay/midterm back. Got an A. You know, when I first started writing all sarcastically and casual in my essays, my English teacher told me that "While I enjoy your writing style, other professors probably won't. You'd best be careful how you write your papers."
As did the next professor. And the next one. For a style that professors aren't supposed to like, a whole lot of them sure do seem to like it. Go figure.
I got into State college. I really didn't think I would. I've only got a 3.39 and they're SUPER impacted. What they do now is stack up all the would-be majors by GPA (4.0s on top of the 3.9s and 3.8s under them and etc.) and then scoop off as many as they need to fill the open slots.
I have the happy. I'm FINALLY going to get out of this baby school.
So I think that's about everything and jeebuz, I have been writing WAY TOO MANY logs lately but eh fuck it. It's not like anybody looks at these anyways.