Monthly Archives: October 2013


Over the years, I’ve come across many people who share a dislike/hatred of ‘stupid/ignorant’ people. For these people, I ask two questions.

What makes someone stupid/ignorant?

Why do you dislike/hate them?

I’ve found that most have to think for several moments before they can even begin to respond to either question. And often, the answers given lack any actual substance. It’s puzzling. For being so vehement in their statements, the reasons and explanations for them are well, practically non-existant. I compare it to a sponge. The claim is that nice fluffy yellow part but…it’s full of holes.

And while this post started off about the supposed ‘retarded’ and ‘retarded’ haters of the world, this kind of thought and spoken claims towards people are reflected across several subjects/topics/etc. People, including myself, are just natural born haters that rarely have actual reasons to hate.

After concluding that, I find myself becoming more amused whenever I hear “I hate ….. people….” or something of the sort. And when I catch myself saying it or thinking it, I pause and mentally slap myself before laughing in my mind. It’s funny that we hate for no reason. And I enjoy laughing at myself whenever I can.

Like everyone should because being too serious can reduce your time and we all only get a limited amount of minutes to prance about the earth.

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.”
-Norman Cousins


“More often than I’d like, I question whether my actions are to please others or to please myself. Then I realize that it’s a bit of both.”



In response to the DP Challenge 

Option 2: A waitress welcomes an elderly regular as he takes his seat at the counter in the diner. The man just got word his wife is dying of cancer. The cook watches through the order window.

The sound of his alarm filled the room as he groggily opened his eyes, groaning aloud when he realized he had fallen asleep yet again in his work clothes. Not that it mattered too much, but he had been planning on reusing the same set of clothes again today instead of pulling on fresh, clean, new ones. It wasn’t that he was messy or unhygienic, it was just that for every article of clothing he pulled out of his drawers, the mountain that was his laundry steadily grew. Eventually he’d have to tackle the mess, but for as long as he could avoid it, he was going to.

He sighed, thinking about all the quarters crammed into the faded pink piggy bank his sister had given him long ago. He’d have to pull the plug out of the damned pig and shake those suckers out if he wanted to wear something decent soon. All he had left was his uniforms, a few shirts, a pair of faded jeans, and hopefully some sweatpants that still fit him. Yeah, he’d be visiting the Laundromat this weekend.

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I Don’t Write Poetry




Lionel continues playing with his pen, making the tip appear and disappear as he contemplates the pack of papers laying before him. He disregards the glares from his fellow classmates, seemingly increasing his pen-clicking as to infuriate them further, and lets a small spiteful smirk play on his lips before letting them resume a frustrated grim line. He feels his right eye begin to twitch and he knows he’s mere seconds from crumpling his test. But that would lead to problems. Problems that he wouldn’t have the energy to deal with.

Perfect marks, always perfect marks on everything. Not only is it tradition for him to receive a 100%, but anything less would result in a chunk of his pride to be ripped away from him. He simply could not stand the blow. It is not acceptable.

And yet… here he sits, angry and disappointed. In himself? Of course not. It’s not his fault his teacher is a hopeless…..hippie. He snorts, quickly covering it up with a cough when he notices the strange looks he receives. What sort of English teacher ends their test with a question like that. And not just any old test, but a midterm.

Hippies do, that’s what. 

Think of yourself as a talented poet and write a poem expressing your current emotions and feelings.

Stupid hippie.

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Live For The Moments

Live for the moments. 

When I was 12, I had decided to go wandering on my own without informing my parents or brother where. Of course, I’d known I’d catch hell for it later, but at the moment I hadn’t cared. I needed alone time. I loved my family and still do but there are some times where they are the last people I want to see, let alone be around.

So after having been cooped up all weekend, I set out like a miniature Indianna Jones. I braved the puddle filled streets of rainy Virginia all the way to the little park 15 blocks from home. There, I made my way over to the swings, sat down, and pushed my feet back and forth. I remember it being quiet.

Dark, quiet, and peaceful.

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The Wednesday Wars

The Wednesday Wars by Gary Schmidt is one of my favorite books despite having surpassed that reading level a long while ago.

When I first came across the book, I was in a new school with few new friends and just joining a Battle of the Books club because it was everything I wanted at the time. I would be introduced to a varriety of books I’d never have come across before and I’d be able to spend more time with the librarians around me (who were much better company than annoying kids who were either discovering or exploring the opposite sex). Plus I’d be able to compete… Yes, compete. Memorizing book titles, authors, plots, passages, and quotes… was the best year ever for me.

But I digress.

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Out of Spite

Spite: a desire to hurt, annoy, or offend someone.

A lot of the things I do and most of the mistakes I’ve made and am going to make are done out of spite.

I guess I’m just a spiteful person.

I get delight from accomplishing things despite being told not to or that I couldn’t do. I recieve enjoyment from annoying other individuals but at the same time I don’t actively seek to hurt others..intentionally. I dont want to offend, I prefer to annoy, and yet if someone does get offended in the process, rarely am I bothered.

Maybe it’s because I’m wired a different way or maybe it’s because of the way I grew up. More so, I believe its just the way I am.

Do I want to change?

That’s a very hard question to answer. I love the person I am, every bit and piece of me. I love me. And I’d rather not change any part of me. But, at the same time I recognize that being spiteful is not a great quality to contribute and help society, as well as it can a cause a decrease in the quantity of friends I have.

So now if I do choose to change, which would it be for?

Would I change me because it’s what everyone prefers and wants?
Or would I change because I want to be nice to those around me?


“Do I contradict myself? Very well,
then, I contradict myself; I am
large — I contain multitudes.”

― Walt Whitman

“You’re always you, and that don’t
change, and you’re always
changing, and there’s nothing you
can do about it.”

― Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

Yeah… I’ll start by taking the spite level down a little.