For The Chubby and Socially Awkward

I rose to meet today's means and ends

Got by the school day with the help of some friends

Nothing too special, but nothing too naught

The weather was fine, not cold or too hot

A failed Precal test (Fuck that class!)

It won't keep me down long, it never will last

Turned in my Service hours (finally right?)

The end of the year is slowly coming in sight



I can't wait to get a camera just like them

To shoot and capture the world again



I'm getting rather sick

My throat is so sore

My nose is running

Like Olympians score


Hah! That was lame, a really lame rhyme

But what can you expect if I'm making up lines

Tomorrow is iffy, I just might stay home

And whisper quiet thoughts in my bed alone

I know I'll get better, somehow and some time

It's more to appreciate health when I'm fine

You Can't Give up if You Haven't Started

Today was as grand as your mother.

(And if you don't think your mother is grand, then look in the mirror Mother F'ker because that's the grand face she gave birth to)

But before I get into my awesome day I'm going to bash shit up.

Precalculus.

Mr. Marquez.

So today, like every other day, I walked into his classroom and left my brain outside (My brain hates the bullshit that goes on in that class) and sat down on my desk. I felt that sudden trapped urge that every student feels at least once or twice in his/her career. Yes, the urge that says "Holy shit I do not want to be here, let me out."

"No such thing as bad student, only bad teacher."
-Mr. Miyagi

Mr. Miyagi is onto the f'king case here! Because Marquez would have to be one of the worst teachers I've ever had in the history of the 17 years of being on this planet.

"You're full of shit again Kid Will, you're probably just lazy."

Not so fast typical reader / asshole!




His idea of teaching:

Write shit on the board. Unexplained.





"Then ask questions you idiot!"

Believe me, if I asked questions in that class we wouldn't be able to move a fking step. Anyone who asks questions will usually be mildly insulted for being stupid with encouraging remarks such as "Get out of my face." and "Get out." whenever a student 'fails' to understand.

Today's intelligent Marquez quote:
"I'm gonna skip writing the original steps because I'm lazy."

My voice under my breathe:

"You're a fucking tard."

Test tomorrow. Yes, it's already failed.

But I have to say that despite my bashing up a teacher who should probably retire to get away from kids who want learn, I had an amazing night tonight.

"You can't just write a bunch of terrible stuff on your blog and switch to a happy mood!"

Anything is possible on Will Kid's blog, bitch!

The improv show went a lot better than I had expected. Initially I dreaded the show, with my negative self saying "yea, another chance to fail in front of your peers." How negative can I get!? Eventually I rationed that it was just something fun to do and that the reason for me doing it in the first place was to enjoy myself. It's funny how you forget to have fun...

Just being up there on a stage.

Above a sea of faces.

All slightly blurred for my absence of glasses.

To create a story and to pull everyone's imagination into it, into something that has no real limits, endless possibilities; where mistakes are gifts and drama is comedy. Where real life can be appreciated in its flaws and gaffes. Where ideas connect and we all find ourselves on the same page--even though we all come from different stories. I love that feeling.

What feeling?

Everything I just said fool! It's a feeling!

This would have to be one of the best nights of my life ( so far! ) because I really did feel like I belonged somewhere. Performing/entertaining. That's all I'll ever want to do in this life--to make people breathe easier. Either that or have them laugh to death.

Oh, how that would be an amazing end.

You're Living Like Fate Wrote You To.

Hey Chicken Brains.

I was suppose to do my homework today but I decided to do other things instead. (Story of your life)

I woke up this morning to find myself upside down and naked in my closet. I was covered in peanut butter. Just kidding. I'm amused to know that widened your eyes. But really, today was special. As all days in life are. (yada yada, let's save that proverb bullshit for fortune cookies)


I arrived at school too early today, so I stayed in my car and cranked up the volume; closed my eyes listening to 'Like We Used To' by A Rocket To The Moon to brainstorm possible music videos. I have to say, an Asian boy sitting in his 01' Mustang in a high school parking lot couldn't be more lost in thought than those intense moments. I then thought of how I used to do these kinds of things earlier in the year and would be interrupted my Megan's goblin-like tapping at my window.


Low and behold it happened two minutes later.

Fast forward to Break,

and I'm walking around, staring at the small faces surrounding me again. Trying to make eye contact with as many of them as possible--just because I can. I think: "Who's happy? Who's sad? Who looks like they don't give a shit?" I take note of the kind of shoes they wear, their color scheme, their expression. I guess I'm digging for some hidden connection that will light that bulb above my head; I guess I'm obsessed with my theory that we're all connected on a deeper level somehow. I guess I'm full of shit.

Fast forward to lunch.

I'm walking and I see a glimpse of my reflection in a classroom window. I see a nearly 18 year old young man walking around. I think: "...fuck." When did I start growing up? When did I get this tall? When did I care about girls, money, college, and semantics in life? Where the hell am I? Am I even typing this? By the time these words and the ideas behind them come to life, they'll be in your head. Which means I already finished this blog. Where am I now?

"Stfu about emo philosophical bullshit Kid Will and start really talking."

AIIIGHT.

I chopped off a pound of my hair today. I finally got sick and tired of seeing my girly curly locks on the back of my neck. Kromatic Hair is too expensive. My would-be hair dresser is retarded because she didn't call me back--even though she said she would. Three weeks and I've looked like a woman--NO MORE. I busted out my Exacto-Knife and started scraping off bundles of femininity. Mom came in horrified to find hair all over the bathroom. But I persuaded her to join my brigade of rebellion and in my success, she bestowed upon me the secret weapon:
These fucking epic scissors that cut off small bits of your hair. Soon, I was finished. And now...I am not a woman. I do not even look like a man. I look like a prepubescent Asian boy.

And with this new image,

I will end you.

Hell House Defined Mischief

I'm a dumbass.



Yes, the voice in your head just read that. And I silently 'lol' at you.

Speaking of which, fuck the word 'Lol.' You know what it is? A bullshit substitute that indicates the gesture of laughing. In other words--it's a sentiment of a sentiment. In other other words--a bunch of bullshit, and if you use it on a daily basis then dark shame on you and your future family generations.

You have amazing eyes.

Want me to prove it?

I'm ptrtey srue you can dphecir waht tihs syas wothiut too mcuh dfflctiuy.

"Wow Kid Will, I could read your seemingly illegible bullshit! But how?!"

Because of a famous science experiment that concluded that if a word were jumbled save the first and last letter--the human brain could unscramble it to make sense with what it already knows!

"How can I ever repay you with this new found knowledge?"

Money. bitch.

Enough nonsense! Last weekend was amazing.

Friday- Impersonated paparazzi with uber friends, took lots of pictues, and then saw dicks on chat roulette. (not cool but it was hilarious. in a no homo way. i think. yep. )

Saturday - Attempted to mow lawns with Cameron but there's something about a White guy and an Asian guy trying to mow lawns that just ain't right. Saw Kick Ass with him, Tanya, and Courtney and then we loitered like faqs at a park.

Sunday - Went with Tanya to the gigantic Art Walk that attracted over 120,000 people. I think we're in the newspaper because a news photographer took our names and our picture.
( http://web.signonsandiego.com/photos/galleries/2010/apr/25/artwalk-san-diego-2010/9442/ )

Monday - Crashed and ate shit as I hit the wall of routine and reality.

These are some good times up in life.

Teacher Vs. Student Improv show this Wednesday. Exciting.

Auditions for MCing a fashion show coming up too. I want to go out for that even though the mere thought of hosting a show makes me feel as if I might vomit in my shirt.

But something is still missing from this life....

And when I find out...

I just might End You.

TiMe DiEs

It's already 10:00PM and I'm already here.

The day is already over. Where the hell have the hours gone?

I realized on the drive home that there's so much more to everything than I'll ever know. I'm a kid who just realized that there's more to life than just a sandbox--so I'm running around with a stick of dynamite in my hand trying to discover the rest of the world. Time is it's fuse.

Yes, I just got home (and chugged two bowls of Cocoa Puff Cereal, speaking of which I have this nasty cut on the roof of my mouth because of one sharp ass puff...). Filmed Dance Production with the help of my friend Tanya; it was really cool. I found myself wanting to do everything--filming, dancing, backstage work, lighting, hosting, enjoying the show--I just felt this rush from deep down that wanted to get involved with everything; partly because it looks a blast but mostly because there's so much to learn. I've under appreciated the work that goes into a performance.

Today was brilliant as usual. I nearly died from boredom in Gov, choked on brain cells in Pre-Cal, and danced like a woman in Beginner's Dance. (But that's all the usual.) Gave some pretty good high fives, learned a word or two, day dreamed about where I'm headed for the future...

And time is gone before I know it.

I'll be gone before you know it.

(...but not before I end you.)

YAY MASCULINITY OH MY G---

Today was a day.

People say: "Live like you're going to die tomorrow!" How the hell do you do that? I mean--personally I would probably get into a fight with a couple of fifth graders before breaking into a convenient store for a pack of juicy fruit--just for the fuck of it. I should probably stay away from wise quotes for awhile...

Last night I was thinking.

Ah yes, the old thinking-in-your-bed-because-you're-trying-to-get-to-sleep kind of thinking. I then realized something. All those people I see out there, from adults, to kiddies, to those teen peers--they all are the same in that regard. No matter how badass, nice, or douchey those kids are, good looking or ugly, they all end up in their pj's and into a warm bed at this moment--this night. Just thinking. Laying by themselves. Contemplating. All of us. Ending the day. "I wonder if they're thinking the same thoughts as me" -- Hah! fat fucking chance. I just thought it was interesting to really consider. You might think I'm full of shit. You might be right.

I woke up three times this morning whining in my head like a child "nOOoooOOOO, just five more minutes of sleeeep.." before realizing that I wasn't even sleepy. I was just cold and didn't want to drag myself out of my pile of warm human-consuming blankets. I ended up at school somehow shortly thereafter.

Come lunch time and I find myself walking around, staring at everyone around me.

"You graduated years ago kiddo." Came this voice in my head.

"Ahh yes, I remember all of this. You never saw any of these little faces again. Enjoy it with the little time you have now."

By the end, I decided to tell the voice in my head to shut the fuck up. It's one thing to live in the past, it's another to dwell in the present because of it's impermanence. Otherwise, how can you enjoy life if you're so worried about the stability of your current reality? Exactly. You can't. So fuck off future head-invading Will.

I then ate a sandwich. And no, it was not made by a woman. But it did have hair it. So does that count? Do you remember those times where you would eat food and feel the sandy-grind of dirt in between your teeth--alarming you that you just ate some shit? That's exactly what happened to me. Damn, next time I'm getting me a proper chef--a female.

Now I'm going to bash on jocks.

Not all of them of course, but enough of them.

"WHY kid will? What's wrong with the jocks!?"

Let's just say that I've squeezed past the locker room between over-excited howling lumps of meat-heads enough to realize that I would fit in if I shouted "YYYYYYEEEEEAAAA!!! MASCULINITY!!! --OO --OOO --OO!" Hell, I'd probably be enlisted as one of their blood brothers if I pulled such a feat. HELL, I might even be held as their king!

"Kid Will, what did they ever to do you?"

Exist. Exist, my slow witted friend. I'll simply walk by the locker room bathroom to hear some of their sophisticated discussions of hypothetical philosophy. In fact, today I overhead:

"SHUT THE FUCK UP. I'LL COME OUT AND SHIT ON YOUR FACE!"
"OKAY."
"BuT really I do need tah take a shit though."

What fine young men.

Of course this is one of the many intricate conversations I hear from the lug-heads I need to squeeze past when they're not shoving their way through as if it's some sort of competition. I really do have a lot of hope for our future. I mean--how can we buy our groceries without bag boys?

This beats it for me.

Feel free to comment if you agree or if you think I'm full of shit--

because I really do care.

...but not enough to stop me from eventually ending you.

WHAT'S YOUR DEALIO...?

Hello my fellow Earth dwellers!

Just more bullshit opinion you don't need from a guy you probably know as well as the back of your hand.

(You don't know the back of your hand.)

(Oh yea? Without looking, tell me how many damn wrinkles are on your far left knuckle).

(That's right, you think you know the back of your damn hand but you damn well don't).

Today was an interesting piece of work. I was reborn this morning and found myself smothered under blankets. From there on I ended up in school somehow. I don't know about you--but just saying hi to people and giving them high fives in hallways gives a MAJOR fucking boost of confidence to me. I might be feeling shitty but as soon as I'm on a roll, giving sky-high-fives and saying those awesome teenage obnoxious sentiments of "WADAWP YO" to my peers, I feel like I'm on top of the world. Of course you must know what I mean. And if you don't, I will hurt you until you do. Or at least you say you do, regardless of whether or not you're telling the truth.

Later today I was choreographing my FUCKING ballet dance for my Beginner's Dance Class (ballet is for pussies but if I insert a manly word like "FUCKING" in front of it, it balances out). I couldn't help but notice this girl who just sat in the back of class, chewing gum, and STARING AT THE WALL. (Literally, this chicah stared at the wall). It then struck me that this is exactly what she did every single day. I mean--who the fuck does she think she is? The wall police? Not in my fucking town. I mean, it's one thing doing nothing, but it's another doing nothing EVERY DAY. I just want to walk up to her and ask "What's your dealio?!" Now hold up. I know what you might be thinking:

"Kid Will, chillax you insensitive nazi, maybe's she's just anti-social so be understanding--DON'T BE HATING!"

And I might reply with: No. Just flat out no.

I mean she could be reading, drawing, or writing something that's on her mind. If she had a mind. But no. She stares into blank space. She reminds me of a vegetable. I hate vegetables. Except when they're all chopped up in soup. I love soup.

Cheers to 4/20.

Who the Fk cares about 4/20?

"WILL KID! I CARE ABOUT 4/20!!"

No you don't. You think you do. Maybe because you're a pot user. And if you do smoke pot or want to smoke pot because of this culture's bullshitidy then you are a tool.

Yes. A tool.

I suppose this is where I shall stop typing to wait 24 hours to quietly resume.

Just remember children: keep your mind sharp. Stay away from those pieces of shit drugs that this culture obsesses about . And if you don't I will end you.

WOAH. What?!

What's this? A blog? What for? For what reason? Do I need mental help?!

Yes, yes, and most likely.

I'm starting a blog (and hopefully will one day finish a blog....?) because I have a firm belief that blogs are necessary to gain masculinity and girls. Both are necessary for fame and fortune.

And maybe some cream cheese and nachos--but NEVER TOGETHER.

Alright, well I'm a seventeen year old child with a lot of ideas in my head and knack for typing.

Hopefully you have the patience of a Chinese Monk because I'm bound to produce some spastic paragraphs of information that we call a blog.

Yes. I am redundant.

And yes, I will end you.