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Golbym of Yek

The Great Scribbling

The Bathroom Smells.

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The title will henceforth have no actual relation to the actual blog, unless you were particularily keen on reading about what made the bathroom smell, in which case I suggest you allow a friend with a weak stomach to each three square meals, each mysteriously containing either beans or mexican food, then access into your rest rooms.

Today...The topic is hm. What is the topic? I've gone and started a blog I can't think of a body for.

"It's not your fault, don't you see, the world is full of tragedy, it's all one big conspiracy"

Sorry, spitting out random quotes now.

I really should think of something to write about...

Maybe... Apathy? Alright, I could rant about that for a while.

That's something that bothers me, and yet doesn't. I hate how the world is so apathetic now that so many horrible things could go on and we can all just brush it off and continue living. Like life is all humanity has left. Only when death becomes personally imminent do we seek to take action against it. "A single death is a tragedy, a million deaths is a statistic." We allowed the Holocaust to take place. Thousands of Jewish innocents died. But as soon as a few of our own were killed in the path, BAM, we were there.

Unless something effects us...

It doesn't matter.

That's what bothers me. And yet... I can't shake the feeling of apathy I've grown accustomed to. I could blame the media, those who throw thousands of painful images in our faces until each one blurs together and ceases to hold importance. I could blame parents, those who taught us to "toughen up". Or... I could blame myself.

How depressing.

"What is pacman,
I don't know.
I only wish,
he had a fro."

Of all the things people make too big, why couldn't a fly swatter be one of them?

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Hmmm... This shall be the average rantings of a somewhat average person with average problems.

Whatever.

But you know what bugs me? People. People bug the snot outta me. They can't just say what they mean. But then you got the people who do, and everyone thinks they're an asshole. It doesn't make any sense! You can be one way, or you can be the other, but either way, YOU SUCK. You know those shoes look like a blind carpenter made them from maggot vomit, but HEY, she loves them! Should you tell her how much they suck and risk being persecuted as a horrible person, or should you pretend like they don't make you want to shield the eyes of children for the mild prolonging of their lack of humiliation?

And that's just one thing that bugs me about them! What about when it comes to bloody relationships! You never know whether the other person feels for you that way or not unless they say something, but hey, who wants to do something so lame as making a frustrating system just a tiny bit easier for everyone?! Yargh. And if they do pipe up and thrust their balls out proudly to tell you how they feel, what happens if you don't feel the same way? It could ruin EVERYTHING, and there's nothing you can bloody do about it.

Oh, and how about people who are actually stereotypical? I'm not talking the people who call others by their stereotype categories, I'm talking about the skinny, blond, rich, and air-brained Barbie doll wannabes. The lanky, tight jeaned, black haired, and self consumed Poe worshipers. The tough looking, chain wearing, spikey haired, head banging throngs of people wearing more make-up than bobo the clown. I'm talking about those people who when you hear them, you have to stop for a second and make sure you aren't watching a television show. Like when you hear a teacher lecture about not saying anything negative to your classmates, and that blond girl with the gouchi bag and the shoes that cover no reasonable part of her foot in the middle of winter puts her head back and groansbefore proceeding to complain that this was an impossible task!

Oh my... I've written too much... I'm gonna go now and pretend I didn't just write a novel about nonsense I'll delete in a few hours.
December 2009
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