Instantaneous Shitstorm

So now there's a fork.

That fork's in my road.

See, there's this chick that's very devoted into getting me. She's sweet, cute, and whatever I said would go. However, controlling parents and pre-arrangements (not very common and not empty excuses that I'm so used to) limit my time with her. I would say the best chance I'd get is once a week for a few hours. I'm also skeptical about if she's clingy.

Wow. I am 17.

On the other hand, there's the chick that never texts me back, nor makes an attempt to re-communicate since strike. Naturally, I'm sure that drives me to want her more. However, it's pissing me off, because she has less limitations from outside variables.

Just recently, there's a picture that brought back so many memories. It's only been a month, too!

Both ways, tomorrow's my May-21-Judgement-Day-of-Protestants. Cast party. I'll be there.

Does it hurt that I've kissed the first girl twice already?

...in a container store?

So...

The choice has been made. Until further notice, I am unofficially dating someone.

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK I'M HAVING A MOMENT.

Hardcore decisions

You can go with this, or you can go with that.

This = one girl
That = equally interested girl

Both = Grade-A USDA Choice females.

Me = bigoted sexist freak (for this example)

What am I supposed to do!?!

I like them both. One, I've been talking to for a few weeks, but rather frequently. One probably had their privileges taken away, and have since lost all communications with me. I'm scared, because at this moment, they both have problems with their (what's to be short-term) boyfriends, and they've found keen knacks for me. Never have I ever been in such a situation.

In addition, they both have many guys that want them equally, if not more, than me. Guess that's what I get for being the new kid on the block...or westy.

Cassie, Rowan: If you're reading this...um....crap. Just realize I want you both quite astonishingly. If I were mormon, and you were too, maybe this would work out well. Since I'm not, I'm going to full-throttle it neo-protestant style!

NOTE: I'm neither....which is a big hurdle in itself...

I wonder...

Usually, when calling a store or business HQ, you're presented with the following:

To order or reserve a product, press 1.

To contact technical support, press 2.

To seek an in-store representative, press 3.

For all other questions, press 5.

...wait! What happened to four? Is it a secret party line or something?
Maybe apple's full of socialists and four is their primary root number for telephone calls...

Just a thought.

Dream Log 10/March

So...weird stuff happening:

- I was having a dream about me having pink eye, and after looking in a mirror many times, I could see my pupil in a weird figure-eight shape. That, or of it two f-holes put symmetrically together...both ways, very creepy. Afterwards, I woke up and realized I was trying to open my eye against my pillow (which is why I was having complications).

After I woke up, I still had time to sleep.

This was followed by a dream of me playing Duke Nukem...then all of a sudden being PART of Duke Nukem. I was shooting inflated toy-soldier heads (all very creepy and well coincide with my phobia of faces).


Then I woke up. Dammit.

Dream Log 7/March

I somewhat successfully lucid dreamed!

I remember getting up in a big pool, at the time engulfed by water. I didn't have such a great understanding that it was all filled with water, but regardless, I flew around however I wanted to. It wasn't until I reached the bottom when I realized there was no water, and that I could breathe. I could no longer swim, so I switched to flying mode (which, logically, is hard for my mind to accept). Lucid dreaming hit me in the head, and now I was consciously aware of it. So, instead of wanting to go mingle with the cute chick at school, I wanted to punch her in the face - just to prove I was dreaming.

Phase two started me off in my bedroom. I was on the laptop. Dad comes in from the garage - somehow with me being pissy. He says something, I turn around and all that could come out of my mouth was "aositaosihfgoaglkasfhbdsa". Somehow after that, I formed the word "whaaaaaa".

Pissed to pretty okay

I'm frustrated.

I've put in at least 15 hours on one song that'll end up being passed off as, virtually, public domain. I've worked HARD, even going to the extent of setting up a schedule. It bites me to say that, but I've worked myself out. Now there's a guy that comes out with a similar style that I'd like to pursue (or better yet, similar styles to Deadmau5, Wolfgang Gartner, Skrillex, Feed Me, you name it) and now he has numerous fans (in the thousands) in the term of weeks. Bluepulse, Buzzy and all my other work added up have less than 200 fans.

My frustration's built up for a pretty long time. In fact, as I type this, I feel more adept to punching holes in walls, beating myself up, beating others up, traveling to Canada and beating the shit out of Joel for not responding to my package (although it's clearly not his fault), or just telling my parents in a firm tone that I hate bedtimes and due dates.

There's a reason you don't see Mac angry. When he's angry, all hell in an orchestrated allegro (a-minor for dramatical overtone) breaks out. You don't want to hear that. It's worse than single-note bassline dubstep.

While I'm on it, I'll give any dubstep that's not ^^^that a chance.

Anyways, it's amazing how the mind can control itself if taught correctly. Why, in just the five minutes that I've been typing this, I've calmed down to a sense of neutrality. I'm still pissed off at my manager for double-guessing what sub-genre I should've taken with Crime Pays, but...whatever. I'll forget by tomorrow.

Oh, and by the super-super slim chance (1 in 3.4 billion) that you're reading this, Olivia, I miss us talking and hope that someday you'll reply to snail mail. I'm totally obsessed with you, if that hasn't been established before ;)

It's hard acting my age when 9/10ths of other "my-age" people act like whining idiots.

Go figure - when you're a "genius", you tend to overlook the big picture.

Pic related: Grado needs to release some purple/green-beast headphones (no hipster)

I find it so weird

Recently, I've found myself censoring my final thoughts into forms that just about anyone could appreciate.

This means that my vocabulary has grown extensively, but also means my buffer time's increased...

...

...

...

...

dramatically.

I could just rage-quit, but when I don't like what someone's said, I'll quietly defend my case in a secure tone and moral comfort.

That doesn't happen to me!

In addition to all of this, I've realized how much less shy I am to social matters.

Today, I spent an hour talking to a very well-known DJ at westy. From that time, not only did I get a warm welcome to help out with any of his future gigs, but also I can now say I have DJ connections. This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me and good ol' sound guy's will to break rules.

Yes, Westy, I'm not your junior representative in charge of checking in with the DJ. Hell if I even go to that school!

I remember when I used to feel so small in a high school. Now I look around and all I see are small....small people. What gives?

No dreams last night...

...however, I'd like to address one fact:

When someone says a song needs to be hard hitting,
and it turns out to be better as an "anthem",
respect your first decision.

As a wise stage manager at Westminster High School said in my defense once, "DON'T piss off your sound guy".

That, in case, is the point exactly.

Pic related: me playing with high voltage/ your mic cues.

WOO! Dream 4/Mar

This one takes place in my neighborhood.

It's sometime late in spring, and I'm upstairs without much knowledge about what's happening outside. I get a text from my mom saying that the police are looking for two men, and have evacuated my whole neighborhood. I don't think much of it, until a few minutes later when I look outside from my studio. In the park are two men; both were asian, one taller than the other, kneeling in the grass. Both have black hair and are corporate-casually dressed. While I still have no idea why they're standing there, the one on the right stands up, pulls out a gun and shoots himself in the head.

I swear, he took 10 seconds to hit the ground.

The guy next to him missed his head and ended up flipping backwards from the recoil (something was obviously wrong with the gravitational pull here).

A few minutes after, I was watching the live news report from my iMac upstairs while looking down at the now-dead man below. The one who missed his own head was being acclaimed a hero by the whole neighborhood. I got bored, so I went downstairs in my man cave and went to sleep.

After that, I was mysteriously back up and got a call from many people, but ignored every single one.

That day was a good day.

So far...

these last two days have proven themselves pointless in dreamyland. Tonight, that is to change. Sleep in 'til 9:15? OH YEAAAAAAH!!

Someone just felt a slight bit more tired :D