When you’re incredibly bored as I am, you just ramble on about random things, wandering about in the world of words, jumping from subject to subject like you’re jumping rope (Double-dutch is still the shit by the way), and trying to become interesting and more interested in something or someone. But on the plus side, that’s probably when the best work crawls out of its shell and makes itself known in my mind. Inspiration hits me in the most awkward moments, like when I’m drinking my daily OJ. Then BAM! I have a story. It’s crazy. My persona is just random and on that WTF level of a higher power that is just works. Everything just works. But for now it’s back to your regularly scheduled boredom – in the early morning.
August 19th. Year 2008. The sun left the sky to smile in the east, leaving the shady moon behind. It reminds me of a ruined marriage, you know, the ones where the man avoids his wife and eventually leaves her…for a white girl.
2:15 am. I’m drooping down in my seat further than my bottom lip. I feel like just descending all the way down to the crimson carpet beneath me and falling asleep once and for all. Not to die, for you literal folk, but just … to let go, you know? The Olympics have been wearing me out. Yeah, yeah, it’s low and vile what China has been doing to Tibet. At this point in time, you’d think we as one world would learn by now. But noooo. Everyone wants to enslave each other’s minds and paralyze the rights and freedoms of every human being…and steal pencil crayons. Everybody wants to scrap and struggle with the next man who looks at them funny, even if they just have a lazy eye. Everyone wants to have that control, that power that makes people bow down and kiss one’s dirty feet. BUT, at the end of the day, The Olympics are the event to watch. People just forget about the troubles and enjoy the show. It’s exciting! Exhilarating! Electrifying! It’s been my life since 08/08/08. What a lucky day, eh? The 100 meter dash, 4x1relay, gymnastics, triathlon and the list goes on. Tibet what? Who? Where?
Under my eyes, bags of Z’s have made their impact. I should lie down in my bed and let my eyelids do the falling. I should at least try, put my imagination at ease. That thing is wild. But I’m one of those people who stay up for absolutely no reason. I’ll be finished the day’s tasks and be sitting down, changing channels even though there’s nothing on. I’ll be listening to songs I’ve listened to more times than a millie. I deal with my boredom that way – by writing and jamming. It’s just how I do.I wonder a lot, you know? I was always one of those kids who asked “Why?” too much, the semi-annoying, Stewie like tall girl. I used to gaze outside windows, mostly on rainy days until the sun went down. The sound of the pitter-patter of the raindrops was so soothing. The rain would slither down the window, making a silent stream. I’d grasp its serenity with a firm grip and get in that zone of mine, thinking about anything – books, people, twister, Power Rangers, life. It was fulfilling for me to create pictures and stories in my mind from just about anything. Silence would swallow my surroundings and I’d be rapt in the climax of my story, the splendor of my picture. What can I say, I’m a curious person. My imagination runs wild. One day, I’m meeting someone from my past, the next day I’m narrating in third person with the most exquisite words, running from people with machine guns. Is that weird?
Don't answer that.
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