Strength
w00t
I'm marching tomorrow, jackasses. For Band. With my big, gigantic, pearl, white, pearly white tuba of manliness. Oh, yeah. I'm gonna look sexy.
I marched this past Sunday near Morris Park...which was pretty much where I marched for Columbus Day. But, not this time. Not in about ten hours. Oh no. This time, it's gonna be through Manhattan. Therefore, I shall call it:
SEAN'S SUPER MANLY MARCH THROUGH THE CONCRETE JUNGLE OF MANHATTAN ON SAINT PATTIE'S DAY WITH HIS BIG PEARL WHITE TUBA OF MANLINESS
Yes. Buy tickets. Get front row seats. Pull your bean chair up to the TV and get ginger ale and soda bread. It'll be a march to remember.
Seriously, though. I'm gonna be marching through Manhattan. From 40-something Street to 86th Street. All on a lovely straight line. Like a prison walk. Yeah. Camera dudes will be filming marching bands as they go along, from close-up angles and stuff. So, I'm gonna be on TV. Like--National, mainstream TV. I'm talking about ABC, CBS, FOX, and NBC (especially NBC). Therefore, I demand you all tune in to watch me march in my manly manner with my tuba. For those of you who are bored and/or have no lives that are reading this late at night or early in the morning, anyway, and for those of you that care.
Yay.
After this, I can collapse.
Don't really have much else to say.
My strengths and weaknesses?
Hahahahahahah....
My strength is everything.
I have no weaknesses. For I am 1337.
Yeah...right...
Okay. Lemme begin with the bad and end with the good. That'll be lovely.
I'm fragile. Really. I am. I need to get one of those mailing stamps and stamp on my forehead "Fragile. Handle with care." It'd suit me and it'd warn you. The closer you are to me, or the closer I see myself to you, the more fragile I am. It comes from insecurity. That's my ultimate flaw, I'd say. Insecurity. I'm so unsure of myself, I'm sometimes unsure as to whether or not I'm unsure. I have famous mental wars within myself over simple issues like saying "Hi" to someone I pass by. I hate it. I'm sick of it. After 4 years, I guess I've gotten better, but it's not enough. I hate being shy and stuff. Then, I beat myself up, like I guess I am now.
Also, Math sucks. I hate it. If you threw a three at my head, I'd cry.
I'm caring, though. I'm thoughtful. As much as I think, it does me some good. Whew. I guess I'm loyal, too. Really. I can't tear myself away from people. That'd bad and good, I guess. I'm funny, too. I hope.
Note how I spent more time on my weaknesses than my strengths. Cool. I hate analyzing myself.
I don't get that, though. I'm never satisfied with a journal entry. I can never finish. I always end up writing after she says "Aaaaaaaand, bring your writing to a close." I hate people with their fast writing skills. I thought I wrote fast. o_o
Oh, well.
Well, after tomorrow, I guess I'll be able to add "walking forty-something blocks with gigantic tuba killing my shoulder and my entire body" to my list of strengths.
Lemme drag myself off to bed, like I wanted to do an hour and thirty minutes ago.
::drags::