I often ask myself when I am going about my day, “What is life?”
I mean, what am I really doing here? I wake up, take care of my hygiene, get on the computer and then skate. On days I got school, I’ll do some studying and may even knock out my homework but thats it. I am literally doing nothing that makes me feel like I have accomplished something. I used to daydream a lot back in high school of where I would be by the age of 22 or 23. Here I am 20, still living with my parents, have no car, no credit, or anything that can say “Hey, this man is finically stable.” I feel miserable everyday I get up and do shit. The only thing in life that makes me feel complete and content with life is skateboarding. Even with skateboarding I run into problems such as falling or the weather decides to switch up. I still have my family all in my ear saying that I should stop skateboarding and because some sucker ass lawyer but what fun would that be?
The point is, the idea…the dream…the whatever the hell I had when I was younger has fizzled away and I’ve become another product of the lower class society in America. I’m considered a rebel, a kid who has chosen to go against the system and is called a hipster. Yeah, I said it, but I look like a bum so the word Hipster doesn’t even cut it. More like another “nigga” walking the face of this earth. I’ve also come across a shit ton of conclusions, I’ll list them below,
- I’ve failed at life
- Have a hard time talking to females
- My family is against my dreams in life
- UPS hates my existence = my job sucks
- and a bunch of other shit I’d rather not name
The shit I’m naming off and complaining about is probably the same bullshit many other young adults are going through. But is it really like this? Are we supposed to suffer and work long strenuous hours, maxing out our mental capacity’s?! And for what?! What I am doing right now that is benefiting me in any way, shape or form? I’m fucking trying man…I’m fucking trying. Every time I turn around my dads in my face about his business, my mom is asking for money, and my sister is being rude to people by not speaking. Why can’t I simply have one good day? One day where I can just skate and come home to a meal and my lady making my favorite pie?
I remember asking my friend Danny what the meaning of life is. He told me that life is a blank canvas and you can paint anything. I thought about it and was like “Wow, I fucking suck at art.”
Its funny, don’t even know you but I think about you
You’re on my mind, all the time I’ve even dreamed about you
Could be desire or my lust but it don’t make a difference
Thought about an old lady but your beauty is my witness
Can’t even figure it out, what am I doing dawg!
I’ll I do is look and pretend the room is full of smog
So I don’t think you’re looking, or even try to catch a glimpse
Everything inside my head is fantasy, never real as shit
I gotta stop stalling but I say its too late
I sometimes catch a glance but get scared and just over think
I need to stop acting like a kid and just spit it out
But life ain’t what it seems and the walls begin to pile around…
Every blue moon I see her.
The girl of my dreams, or at least I like to say so.
She’s tall, slim, has a tattoo (I think), light brown skin and has long beautiful wavy hair. Overall, the woman is gorgeous. I see her at work when I ride the tram to my work area. She is mostly quiet and intensively stares out the window. I get my very few glances of her and do my best to look away so I won’t look weird. There were a couple times where I thought she was looking at me but she could have been looking past at someone else or was giving me the “Oh no, that weird guy with the Afro is looking at me again” look.
There is something about her that makes me want to talk to her. I’ve seen her many times before, even when I was in a relationship. She catches my eye very time. I really want to talk to her and become friends but for some reason I can’t get myself to do it. I thought I lost my chance a few months ago when I stopped seeing her after peak season started. Then just out of nowhere she pops back up. I just don’t know what to do. I’ve talked to a bunch of friends and they have all told me the same thing…”Just say Hi.” My friends give me enough courage and motivation to talk to her and say Hi, but when I see her, my shyness kicks in. Every little bit of motivation I had in me seeps out, dissipating in the thick air that fills the tram.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I am just a coward. I’m afraid of change and the outcomes in life. I wish I could get the balls and guts to talk to this lady…I wish I could say Hi…
ps. I’m a certified punk.
I remember the day as if it were yesterday. What is it? Better yet what the hell is an “is?” Can we is? Before I get too side tracked on this “ising” aspect, I remember the day when Mr. Wixom walked through the door. He walked in standing tall with a clean shaven head and an atomic wedgie from hell. Just as another terrible human being from this hellish society, I began to judge him, thinking of him as a weirdo and quietly making fun of him in my head. He was dead silent when he walked into the class room, only making occasional heavy breathing noise’s. The eerie silence went on for a good 5 minutes before it was broken by a slightly deep, smooth, and clear radio reporter voice. I was shocked; while making fun of him in my head, I envisioned him having one of those obese fat guy voices. I was dead wrong.
I don’t want to sound like some weirdo, but this man has a beautiful voice and a very astounding love for the English language. For an entire semester his teaching was relentless. He engaged the entire class into casual or argumentative conversations, drilled us on how we should refrain from passive words, and would occasionally slap himself on the wrist for using sexist language. His love for teaching English was rubbed deeply into my brain and is still sitting comfortable inside waiting for its time to shine. The art of writing is beautiful and was instilled by a man who not only can talk in a southern accent better than me, but who is still fuzzy on the whole “Good, Bad thing” (Ghost Buster joke).
I am glad that I took Mr. Wixoms class. He made me love writing. He has given me and entire new outlook on reading and writing, in which I plan to implement more into my life. I want to be the best, become a better writer and make my blog look incredible on the web. The enjoyment and fulfillment just doesn’t stop on this site, I hope to go farther and write for other sites and maybe even columns!
In the end, all of this enthusiasm and ego boost goes to this very weird man named Mr. Wixom. I thank him everyday for the knowledge he has passed down to me.
So what is a Wixom? Well it is just a name, but Mr. Wixom is a knowledgeable teacher with the powers of Obi Wan Kenobe and Master Splinter combined.
Ps, What is “ising?” Can we is? Here, I’ll “is” real quick…….
The End. :D
Its been a while since I have talked to you guys that keep up with my blog or at least read it. I haven’t been doing much lately but going to school and skateboarding.
That really is it; I haven’t done anything but learn how to be a better writer and learn how to put a bunch of numbers together to make a bigger one. lol How awesome is that? Oh, I learned how to use a semicolon. Well at least I think I did. haha!
Yeah, so now what?
Ya come this far in life and then you come across a post like this.
Well its simple my friends, when I speak you listen and when I listen you speak. There is nothing more here then just a non-finalized way of ending a bad conversation but when you don’t try your best to think about it you get caught up in all the bogus crap hipsters leave out in the road.
I like to sometimes look at everything as a trial and the time you go to bed is the tribulations. I got a funny story to tell that has to do with trials and tribulations but its to long to explain. The point is that when you got one thing to do and you get side tracked, then things get really messy. Like right now.
I would like to think I am sounding smart but in all reality I am not. I am just wasting time as usually just spilling the beans of a worthless human who stands on top of a rolling piece of wood.
So in my English 101 class, we had to read a selection from a book written by Anne Lamott. Or at least I think it was from her book.
The selection my teacher had us read was entitled Shitty First Drafts. It pretty much was about how when any writer sits down to work on a project they have to write a shitty first draft. I really took that to heart when I read what Ms. Lamott wrote. It made me think about my blog and how all of my post are shitty first drafts. Even this one is a shitty first draft because I have no intention of going back and fixing any errors…unless I catch them skimming over it.
I always tell myself that I am a good writer but after the first 2 weeks of English I have come to the conclusion that I am not. There is just so much that I don’t know. I’m not sure if its from the 2 years of not taking English since high school or me just not actually knowing. I do see myself gradually growing and becoming a better writer. Hell, I like to do it, just not to the extent of dedicated writers who walk around with a journal 24/7.
Whether my writing is good or bad I still enjoy getting here on my blog and making post that people will occasionally like and comment. I really appreciate the people who like my post and even share their thoughts. It pleases me to know that I have a small crowd out there that is watching.
Well, I guess I’ll go back to being an internet junky. I may do a little homework.
ps. I went over this post and fixed some grammatical errors and re-worded a lot of stuff. My teacher is rubbing off on me.
Tell us about the experience of being outside, looking in — however you’d like to interpret that.
The inner circle to most people sounds like a secret organization that is with-holding information on world domination. To me, its just a group of people who have gained a certain popular status among peers in a social setting creating the illusion of the “cool” kids.
Being that person that is outside of it all makes most feel left out. I never felt like that way, I was that guy who wanted to sneak in and destroy the reputation and image created by the inner circle groups and taunt people with my conspicuous actions. As bad as that sounds I never got around to it, I made my owner inner circle of odd people and went on about my day.
I’m always the guy that is outside looking in. I mean what the fuck do I need to go inside for when this gives me the opportunity to criticize, stereotype or just let me create my own explanation of why these people choose to stay inside of a circle of oppression.
I understand that I am getting a little too deep but I want people to really think so they can have a different mind set on life. I did the thinking at some point and I am extraordinarily happy that I did. We shouldn’t have to be standing outside looking in. We need to be looking around.
Why must the world be split and contained in small little sectors full of morons with the power to control people? Why must happiness and fulfillment be on the other side of a locked door? Why do we get treated like donkeys with a fucking key in front of our faces as we walk through life aimlessly trying to grab it?
Do you see what SOCIETY HAS DONE!
It really takes a lot to change a person. Whether its a death of a close relative or noticing how fortunate they are to be in the healthy state and condition with shelter and food. I sometimes ask myself why does it take so much to really move a human being? Is it because of our influence from American culture or just how we came into the world.
For someone like me who has pretty much been a loafer his whole life through school, I see that I need to make a very big change within myself and it is going to take tons of effort and strength to do so. Do we as humans really need a serious impact on our lives to change it? It seems so.
But what if we were to some how skip that step and succeed to the top without the suffering?
Would life be what it is now?
These are just thoughts that I had run through my head as I read a post on facebook from a friend. Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments below.
My room is a box. There’s no air vents so I have to use an electric heater to heat my room up during the winter months. I just cut it off so I can let the cold air take over my room.
Once again I am in the middle of my room sitting down with my tablet in one hand and a plate of Vienna sausages in the other. I’ve been stuck in the house all day doing nothing productive but sitting in my room browsing the internet, Trying to make friends. My dad came home earlier and yelled at me about not figuring out how to open some damn word file. He’s been doing this for a month now. I’ve grown tired of it, contemplating on moving out and dealing with room mates. But the free room and manuel labor with my dads business is what keeps me here.
My dad went on a rant earlier about how he doesn’t know who me and my sister are. Claiming we are just reincarnations of past people. I believe him. He had me Google a book that he heard on the radio thats about children who have memories of past lives. It got me really thinking about who I really am and who the person I was before this life. I know for sure that I am reincarnated. I’m hoping that once I find out who I used to be then I can finally get the answers to why I love to skateboard so much and why I’m the person I am today.
Other than me wondering who I really am, I paid half of my school debt. Apparently I owe those bitches 800 something. I only paid half and plan to call and make sure the other half isn’t a mistake. God I hate college.