You know the night life is just not for me, 'cause all you really need are a few good friends.

Currently Listening Across The Universe [Deluxe Edition] By Original Soundtrack see related

Hey everybody,

Today was really pretty good.

I was thinking earlier that I felt like I had a lot of things to write on here. Things that seemed important. But now that I'm sitting here, trying to think of those things, I'm drawing a complete blank.

So whatevski. . .

Today in creative writing we had what Todd calls the "World's Worst Poetry Challenge!"

Basically, you just write the worst poem you can and people vote on which on sucks the most.

Here is my submission, it is called: Writing A Poem is Difficult . . . Like Having Monsters Shoot Beams Of Light At My Internal Organs


Todd told me to write a poem.
So I wrote this poem so I could show 'em.
That not just anyone can write a poem.

A poem can be hard to write.
It's almost like being in a fight:
A fight where monsters shoot beams of light
—from their eyeballs.

Their eyeballs can see my fear
at having monsters so very near.
The eyeballs can see me shed a tear
—as monsters are shooting beams of light at me.

I hate the monsters, they make me feel bad
being attacked by monsters is not what I'd call “rad.”
The most aggressive monster says his name is Brad.
—Brad is a jerk.

The monsters are all jerks, because they are so mean
they aim all of their beams of light directly at my
spleen.
That is an idea that I do not find so peachy-keen.
—the idea of shooting laser beams at my internal
organs.

Organs play music, the music of my heart,
music that is beautiful like a piece of pretty art,
but I cannot hear the music, I only hear monsters fart
—because that's what monsters do when they are
shooting laser beams at me.

love always,
jim.

It's amazing how things change

Hey everybody,

It rained today, and it made me feel a little bit nostalgic. So I thought I would indulge in the nostalgia a bit.

So I got on the ol' xanga and read some old posts. It amazes me to see who I was a year ago, two years ago, three years ago. I can't believe that things can change that much, yet I'm still the same person.

That is absolutely bizarre.

But looking back, it's really exciting to see that my life isn't just consistent. It's always changing. It's a story.

And it sure makes for a good read on a rainy day.

love always,
jim.

I'm sad today.

Today I have to say goodbye to one of my best friends in the world. I've known him for basically my whole life, and we've been really close for the past three years. And now I'm never going to see him again. No more hanging out in the parking lot of Dairy Queen, no more singing at the top of our lungs, no more drives up to the mountains.

I feel like I'm replacing him, and I don't like it.

Just because he wasn't working as well as he used to?


He took care of me. He was always an escape. He always took me away.


Henry was a good car, and I'm going to miss him.

I hope Clarence will be as good as he was.

love always,
jim.

I don't know what I'm going to do: Tell me [s']more about it.

Right now I really have no idea what I am going to do with my life. I'm writing stories for literary journals and I'm considering how I could work after college but I really have no clue.

However, I found this encouraging:

When Sylvester Graham invented the Graham cracker in 1822 he marketed it as some sort of miracle cracker that could cure diseases and greatly boost the immune system. It was the center of a health regimen Graham came up with to suppress "unhealthy carnal urges."

Graham crackers don't really do that.


So I guess what I'm really saying is. . . maybe my writings aren't going to be as great as I would hope, and maybe my career will be mediocre at best.

But I hope that someday somebody will cover it with chocolate and melted marshmallow and think that it is pretty good.

My discovery about college. . .

Those who drink alcohol seem to meet so many more people.




Why can't cherry coke induce a relationship?

today. . .

I find it strange how poetic this night is. It's strange how much things can change, but even when everything is different the songs you listen to, and the books you read, and the movies you watch still mean the exact same thing to you that they did when you first encountered them.

But it's bigger somehow. It's like when you first experience something, you throw a rock into a pond. And the ripples start off small. And they grow and grow and grow. And even by just looking at one ripple, you instantly remember what it was like when you threw the stone into that pond, but it's bigger. It's not just a tiny splash, it's a ripple that is now covering a huge area.

Anyway, today I was looking around, and all I could see was ripples. I remembered all the things that make life wonderful. I remembered all the play productions and choir concerts, the nights at the dairy queen, and the off hours filled with Mario Kart and Aqua. I remembered all the things that make me, me. And it was nice to remember those things today.

It's weird to think that even as I look at these ripples, I'm throwing more rocks into the water.

The story of my life. . .

Once upon a time,
there was a boy named Jim.

One day, it was a Tuesday I believe, Jim arose from bed and went to his visual art class where he was instructed to take a test. This test took thirty minutes. Then Jim was allowed to leave. This meant that on this particular morning Jim got out of class 45 minutes early.

Once Jim returned to his dormitory, he got breakfast, and the woman serving the breakfast said that James was a very nice name. He said "thank you very much," and returned to his room.

Upon arrival to his humble abode, Jim checked his email and received this message from the T.A. of his history class:

CLASS CANCELLED TODAY, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 9TH AT 2:00pm.

Jim then commenced to party like a rockstar for the rest of the day.


The End.