(no subject)
Dear diary,
I forgot to mention to you how my weekend faired. I've been going out a lot and tolerating people more. I used to convince myself everyone was a piece of shit. And then I realized starting my own colony won't be happening anytime soon, and that my crippling social skills weren't helping me in any situation at all. I started to realize I couldn't rely on my own skinny shoulders to cry on; they're too small and it hurts my neck. So that brings me to right now.
I don't really block anything anymore, I rarely say no to a proposal. So, I'm finding myself in odd situations, with odd people I may not have associated with before. But I like it. I'm too young to have a clear and set standard for what kind of people I'm looking to include into my life. That's what I've decided.
As for this weekend, I went to my good pal Chris's crack basement on Friday. I brought Jolly Jellies, cold shots and Tupac's greatest hits. The Jolly Jellies were a big hit, bigger than Tupac's. There was the usual crowd, sitting around in a puff of smoke. I stuck to my beverages. There were small fights between friends with boxing gloves included. I laughed at first, but then they fell over Chris's TV and it made a crashing noise that hurt my stomach. Half left, half went with us. We went to the Superbowl for a nice game of Stoners (Chris, Joe) VS. Sobers (Me, Ryan). Bowling is the one thing that I am most inconsistent at. One minute, I'm turning heads. The next minute, I'm turning red. But it was fucking cosmic and fun. Joe got me beers and then we played free pool because my good pal Devin was working. Joe's a sweet dude. He spent six months teaching in China and he's just eighteen. He's so laid back and intelligent. Sometimes I think he knows something about life that I haven't figured out yet.
The bowling alley sells fireworks, so I bought some with the last of my money and we left. I usually pretend that I think fireworks are lame, but I not-so secretly love them.
We went to a field and set 'em off. It lit up the sky and it was gorgeous. Unforetuneatly, it made these loud funny farting noises that scared me, and everyone else. I waddled off quickly back to Ryan's car, beer in hand, before I even got the full effect. We spent the rest of the night back at Chris's place, trying to pick out the best flavour of Jelly Belly. Even though sometimes he makes me very mad, and sometimes I accidentally eat the buttered popcorn ones; I love Chris, I love Jelly Bellies and I love Friday nights with those two included.
Saturday night was spent at a shaggy-haired guys party. I don't know him that well, but I'm pretty sure I told him off last year.
Teenage hilarity ensued. Degrassi High type hilarity. Pee in the beer bottle hilarity. All things I pretend to think are lame, but really, when someone drinks pee I cant help but laugh. And then feel bad. And then leave the room.
Around 2am, a bunch of us came together in our mutual love of all things pizza. We ventured on a very harsh, cold journey to find said interest. When we finally did... it was... it was something else. I both love and hate how being intoxicated can actually bring you closer with someone, because you say and do things you may normally not if alcohol wasnt a factor.
Anyway, I was drunk, I was hungry, I was tired, and I was sitting in a booth with all of these people who I sort-of kind-of know from school. But I ate my pizza as quickly as possible and just sat back and relaxed. Absorbed conversation and expressions. It may have been the beer, it may have been the delicious snack settling in my belly, but I felt really fucking calm and at peace at 2:35am on Saturday. And I wanted to write about that, diary. That's a feeling I don't feel very often.
I also wanted to let you know that last night I made $10 an hour by sitting around most of the time. I'm really into working for the government.
I forgot to mention to you how my weekend faired. I've been going out a lot and tolerating people more. I used to convince myself everyone was a piece of shit. And then I realized starting my own colony won't be happening anytime soon, and that my crippling social skills weren't helping me in any situation at all. I started to realize I couldn't rely on my own skinny shoulders to cry on; they're too small and it hurts my neck. So that brings me to right now.
I don't really block anything anymore, I rarely say no to a proposal. So, I'm finding myself in odd situations, with odd people I may not have associated with before. But I like it. I'm too young to have a clear and set standard for what kind of people I'm looking to include into my life. That's what I've decided.
As for this weekend, I went to my good pal Chris's crack basement on Friday. I brought Jolly Jellies, cold shots and Tupac's greatest hits. The Jolly Jellies were a big hit, bigger than Tupac's. There was the usual crowd, sitting around in a puff of smoke. I stuck to my beverages. There were small fights between friends with boxing gloves included. I laughed at first, but then they fell over Chris's TV and it made a crashing noise that hurt my stomach. Half left, half went with us. We went to the Superbowl for a nice game of Stoners (Chris, Joe) VS. Sobers (Me, Ryan). Bowling is the one thing that I am most inconsistent at. One minute, I'm turning heads. The next minute, I'm turning red. But it was fucking cosmic and fun. Joe got me beers and then we played free pool because my good pal Devin was working. Joe's a sweet dude. He spent six months teaching in China and he's just eighteen. He's so laid back and intelligent. Sometimes I think he knows something about life that I haven't figured out yet.
The bowling alley sells fireworks, so I bought some with the last of my money and we left. I usually pretend that I think fireworks are lame, but I not-so secretly love them.
We went to a field and set 'em off. It lit up the sky and it was gorgeous. Unforetuneatly, it made these loud funny farting noises that scared me, and everyone else. I waddled off quickly back to Ryan's car, beer in hand, before I even got the full effect. We spent the rest of the night back at Chris's place, trying to pick out the best flavour of Jelly Belly. Even though sometimes he makes me very mad, and sometimes I accidentally eat the buttered popcorn ones; I love Chris, I love Jelly Bellies and I love Friday nights with those two included.
Saturday night was spent at a shaggy-haired guys party. I don't know him that well, but I'm pretty sure I told him off last year.
Teenage hilarity ensued. Degrassi High type hilarity. Pee in the beer bottle hilarity. All things I pretend to think are lame, but really, when someone drinks pee I cant help but laugh. And then feel bad. And then leave the room.
Around 2am, a bunch of us came together in our mutual love of all things pizza. We ventured on a very harsh, cold journey to find said interest. When we finally did... it was... it was something else. I both love and hate how being intoxicated can actually bring you closer with someone, because you say and do things you may normally not if alcohol wasnt a factor.
Anyway, I was drunk, I was hungry, I was tired, and I was sitting in a booth with all of these people who I sort-of kind-of know from school. But I ate my pizza as quickly as possible and just sat back and relaxed. Absorbed conversation and expressions. It may have been the beer, it may have been the delicious snack settling in my belly, but I felt really fucking calm and at peace at 2:35am on Saturday. And I wanted to write about that, diary. That's a feeling I don't feel very often.
I also wanted to let you know that last night I made $10 an hour by sitting around most of the time. I'm really into working for the government.