And this is how it ends. My last true post force from me. I am unsure of if I will continue to write, but know for certain that my time her was agony at its worse and simple pain at its best. my life is not writings and documentation, but rather actions and i prefer them that way instead of just endless stress through compelled writing. I'm only glad that I am finally done and weathered the giant. This was not productive is my professional student review. Mostly because I saw no progression, for if there was one, it was a natural increase and not a aplang writing method. I have no faith in blogging and i hope there are only negative reviews. Change the broken system that could easily be cheated.
Before I pass out, in a fetal-like position in my bed, I recant that this year, I started off with purpose and drifted, drifted so amazing far as to get nearly 160 page views on a post about Russian prisons. What is sadder is the next grossing post is entitle ... and is a video of the trolololo song. People don't read this and no classmate will read this (90%) of the time.
Rest assured I enjoyed the course, just not the blogs at all. With this ending information, I trust you all to be true Gentlemen and live life like a walrus, not caring about what anyone thinks about them.
Also, Go Men's Rights!
(likely bye)
-The Observer
May 21, 2012
Reue (Part 3)
There isn't very many qualities that I like about myself and hopefully from this you will learn two things. Be better than some one and don't live life in the mentality that you must put pressure on yourself. Don't live to a point where you feel like you eyes are going to bleed from how late you have to stay up because you cannot focus, your computer is poop and how uncomforting your family is. I feel like two hells and one is just stemming from the frustration that I can't think and type faster.
grades are very important, but what is supremely more important is happiness. YOU WILL NOT BE HAPPY IF YOU DON'T THINK. YOU MUST REALIZE THAT LIFE ISN'T JUST WORK OR SCHOOL. There is a light at the end of the tunnel and then you can sleep, but until then, make sure you don't hate basically every inescapable aspect of your life.
Relax and be happy a lot of the time, work less and try to not worry. I feel like i'm just stating what I wish I could do, but oh well. This year was a metal rod to my head. I have learned a few social life concepts.
First - I really hate how my dad is a lot of the time.
Second - I really hate the way education and politics are in America.
Third - I really hate people sometimes
Fourth - I really love some people sometimes
Fifth - I really hate the internet.
Some days I wonder, what is life really worth?
Religiously I believe that so long as I worship god, I got a purpose, but on many days I put that aside (not permanently) and I just ponder it. I feel like a man on his death bed wondering about the mysteries of the world, remorsing and baiting myself for loathing, hating my actions and loving certain people way to much. Wondering why my social abilities seem so frazzled and lost. On days like today, I wonder what would happen if I died tonight or tomorrow. I know (or hope) that at least someone will be sad for me. From there, some times I feel like the world would be better off. Some times I feel the opposite and some times I feel like nothing will happen. It is no solution though. It is as much of a solution that medication is. It is the same reason that I hate medication in any form. I doesn't treat the problem, just the symptoms. Death is solving pain, a symptom, not the cause.
die Entschuldigung (part two of the installments of The End is Nigh)
But
just when I started making actual money (after numerous expensive
extracurricular activities payments) I started real drama. Prom and the
horrors of what no means is something girls really need to understand.
NO MEANS NO. Manipulating me into it, I went to prom and am still
recovering from how crazy the night was for me mentally. Financially, I
like to tell myself that things will always come up. A nice, fuel
inefficient van really help retain my paychecks, but hey, at least I
have transportation.
I hate rich friends. They ruin everything. When they have everything you want, it is very hard not to be envious, especially when they even have sympathetic parents.
Next on my list of friends that I hate are people who are too pretentious, ignorant, stubborn and so very shallow. You know if this person wasn't stupid in general, I think that we would be better friends... (sadly so, but the closest to the truth that I can get)
I know way to many people who were raped. on further note, why do so many people tell me so much about their lives? I never wanted to know about your sex live, certain co-worker... Also, I've grown tired of stating over and over again, "I don't do that man/bro/girl." It really is a waste of time, money and focus...
I would like to apologize for any excessive rudeness and critical-ness I have shown all the people that I have talked to and would like to say that in a resolution-esqe format, I promise to cut down the meaner parts of my brain. Also, I hope to apologize to those that I have wronged.
You don't know about life until you seen at least a summary of what I've seen is something I like to think. Life is great and the greatness can be lost to a point that life hurts. I remember my friends turning on me, growing distant from some, watching a sister get taken from me and seen a father just disappear. I've shocked myself into a realization that my childhood is no real childhood. I don't remember much truly happy moments.... Sad and ominous I realize, but you have to understand that since my parents have broken p, I have changed, I am much colder and much better at adapting.
I hate rich friends. They ruin everything. When they have everything you want, it is very hard not to be envious, especially when they even have sympathetic parents.
Next on my list of friends that I hate are people who are too pretentious, ignorant, stubborn and so very shallow. You know if this person wasn't stupid in general, I think that we would be better friends... (sadly so, but the closest to the truth that I can get)
I know way to many people who were raped. on further note, why do so many people tell me so much about their lives? I never wanted to know about your sex live, certain co-worker... Also, I've grown tired of stating over and over again, "I don't do that man/bro/girl." It really is a waste of time, money and focus...
I would like to apologize for any excessive rudeness and critical-ness I have shown all the people that I have talked to and would like to say that in a resolution-esqe format, I promise to cut down the meaner parts of my brain. Also, I hope to apologize to those that I have wronged.
You don't know about life until you seen at least a summary of what I've seen is something I like to think. Life is great and the greatness can be lost to a point that life hurts. I remember my friends turning on me, growing distant from some, watching a sister get taken from me and seen a father just disappear. I've shocked myself into a realization that my childhood is no real childhood. I don't remember much truly happy moments.... Sad and ominous I realize, but you have to understand that since my parents have broken p, I have changed, I am much colder and much better at adapting.
feuer pinkeln (the first installment of The End is Nigh)
The time has come that the end is nigh. The next three posts will reflect on the cumulative year and the horrors of the stress that bad computers make. I say the end is here because this is the last week and I am three posts away from completion.
The time that I have spent blogging has been a personal Hell that I can not describing in English. In German it would be "Feuer pinkeln" meaning to pee fire. It was only like this because of the way my schedule works. My divorced parents only complicated the mess, but the fact that I only have one computer that is good for writing blogs and I got the least access to it meant a lot of frustration was waiting. I work a lot. 20-25 hours a week. On top of 35 hours of school a week and activities on the weekend resulting in about 10 more hours gave me no breaks in my 65-70 hour weeks. When I had breaks, I slept. No exceptions. When I had time to write, my mind was blown up. I just worked six hours on top of seven hours of school, why would I want more work? I bit my metaphorical bullet, to only realize that it was anthrax pill, because it made me resent blogs to a point that each blog's theme was about how education was terrible and how blogs are worthless (which I maintain).
The only days that I always had off were Sundays, for good reason. I had church in the morning and in the hours between 12 and 4:30, I did home work. At 5, I was at Upward Bound at Coe College, doing more home work and getting help along with socializing with friends (which my dad and his gf think is something punishable by death). I usually got home with about an hour of home work left. I was tired, but I dragged on to go to bed at about 12 or 1. I then slept till 5:30 whereupon I took a shower and started my week.
Usually, each week, I maintained and increased a massive sleep debt. accompanied by those nights where I was forced to stay up till 3am doing blogs (like tonight/this morning). It really wore me down, especially when all of my friends were doing fine, where as, I was struggling. It wore me down so much that at one time I was in such a severe depression that I did nothing for a week but sit in my room thinking about how absolutely terrible I was and going to work, putting on the false bravado that men must at all times. I sat and listened to how I was stupid and how inconsiderate I was or how I wouldn't "open up." I sat around for those times where my mind would relent on my words that I used and I hurt someone on this very blog. I still feel like I'm a terrible person, but it is easier to maintain my suit of armor now with sleep.
The time that I have spent blogging has been a personal Hell that I can not describing in English. In German it would be "Feuer pinkeln" meaning to pee fire. It was only like this because of the way my schedule works. My divorced parents only complicated the mess, but the fact that I only have one computer that is good for writing blogs and I got the least access to it meant a lot of frustration was waiting. I work a lot. 20-25 hours a week. On top of 35 hours of school a week and activities on the weekend resulting in about 10 more hours gave me no breaks in my 65-70 hour weeks. When I had breaks, I slept. No exceptions. When I had time to write, my mind was blown up. I just worked six hours on top of seven hours of school, why would I want more work? I bit my metaphorical bullet, to only realize that it was anthrax pill, because it made me resent blogs to a point that each blog's theme was about how education was terrible and how blogs are worthless (which I maintain).
The only days that I always had off were Sundays, for good reason. I had church in the morning and in the hours between 12 and 4:30, I did home work. At 5, I was at Upward Bound at Coe College, doing more home work and getting help along with socializing with friends (which my dad and his gf think is something punishable by death). I usually got home with about an hour of home work left. I was tired, but I dragged on to go to bed at about 12 or 1. I then slept till 5:30 whereupon I took a shower and started my week.
Usually, each week, I maintained and increased a massive sleep debt. accompanied by those nights where I was forced to stay up till 3am doing blogs (like tonight/this morning). It really wore me down, especially when all of my friends were doing fine, where as, I was struggling. It wore me down so much that at one time I was in such a severe depression that I did nothing for a week but sit in my room thinking about how absolutely terrible I was and going to work, putting on the false bravado that men must at all times. I sat and listened to how I was stupid and how inconsiderate I was or how I wouldn't "open up." I sat around for those times where my mind would relent on my words that I used and I hurt someone on this very blog. I still feel like I'm a terrible person, but it is easier to maintain my suit of armor now with sleep.
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