You Need Help. (So Why Not Give It?)

Sometimes I do wish that I could live in a third world country for a given amount of time--just so that I may fully appreciate what I have.

My parents used to always talk about the things they never had as kids. I'd always say "Of course I appreciate everything I have!" But really, how can you really do so when you have always had it your entire life?

It's impossible.

So throughout life we constantly lose and constantly gain; thereby granting us this true appreciation for what we have, and what we may work to maintain in our lives.

I've spent $500 this month alone on clothes, a weight set, a new guitar, and a new amp. All expensive--but all....truly mine. Bought with my own money. That I earned with my own job. It's a tremendous difference--where one can appreciate something far greater when earned himself as opposed to simply being given it. It's a new experience--and I assume this is only the beginning of independence as far as obtaining what you wish to have on your own accord.

My little voice came up with a neat little proverb on a drive just the other week.

Being independent means
Being in control.

Sweet.

Steamed .

I'm a jealous fucking human being right now.

No doubt about it.

Filter and weed out reason, intellect, logistics, and stream out pure emotion--

you have a 18 year old kid who is as angry and envious as he has ever been.

But why? Why can't I be him? Why can't I just be so fucking successful at everything I touch? Why can't I control everything the way he seems to control everything? And when human beings compare someone whom they deem greater than themselves--they not only overvalue that someone--but they inevitably devalue themselves.

That's what is it.

It isn't "Oh he's a bastard because he thinks he has it all."

It's "That guy makes me feel like a goddamn shmuck. A loser. A nobody."

That's what it really is when you cut all the bullshit and stream pure emotion. It's in that very context that we feel threatened--that maybe our place and our personality as we know it is flawed--and that will generate enough negativity to spur self-destructive thinking. That's exactly how it feels. That's how I think it is.

But I fucking hate emotions.
They're so goddamn useless most of the time.

But I suppose that's the brilliant part of being a human being. Balancing yourself. That's what self discipline is. That's what it's all about. It's not about being happy and outgoing when everything is working out for you. It's about being that way when the world looks like shit. When you've broken a limb. When you've lost a loved one. When you think you're so damn low you think that you just might melt into the nothingness you feel yourself to be.

But as much as my emotions will strike viciously at the facts, bend against my own good intentions and lash out at me for exposing them to such controversy; it has to be necessary.

I guess...that's what being a soft skinned humanoid means. That although it's not going my way. That I'm jealous over my fucking head; it's going to be okay. A good proverb I remembered was

"Rejoice and share their success." Be happy for another human being who has found his place. Who knows what he's doing. Who's on the right path. The only reason to feel jealousy would only point to the sin of selfishness. That must be it. I'm a selfish human being--that's what jealousy is--isn't it?

Nice car Tim.

Nice clothes Joey.

Fuck them both.

Isn't that an instance of selfishness?
When one could only think about himself?

I get it now.

I'm still thinking about me.

Thank God I have fingers to type with.

...now to empty these bad feelings.

Banning Self Destructive Thinking

I fell into a nightmare when I read those words:

"Your application has been canceled."

One of those literally jaw dropping moments, that haunt you whenever you think about it. I had to sum up a shit load of effort just to keep myself settled.

It makes me sick to think about it.

Self-deserved pain is the worst pain to have.

It's when optimism cannot possibly come into play--when you know its 100% your fault--that you DESERVE to feel like shit.

And it was a new horror indeed.

Filled with dread, I walked up to father and told him the grave news.




"It's no big deal." he said

"..what?"

"It's like postponing a trip to Disneyland. We won't go this month--but we will go the next."

"...true."

"But you still should have been on top of it."

"I know."

Warn me if you ever go back in time. >.>

"We are all going."

We all go. Don't you know?

They walk, they talk, they sprout with smiles

They love they hate it lasts awhile

Tears melt joy like sun lights fire

Glowing hearts that never tire

A brush of an arm

Or a kiss on the cheek

A warm friendly hug from someone you meet

The senses you treasure all life's complete

But there's quite a bit more to this life's mystique

Now you have grown, now you are wiser

Still feels like yesterday except now it's nicer

Career's to be hunted and goals to achieve

Time will not wait and you won't believe

How everything's changed save maybe your name

Sucked in a world where seconds play games

But to minimize worry and to fight doubt

You must remember what life's all about

This is a stop, how will you stay?

Will you enjoy it?

Live for today?

For the train speeds, seconds till' showing

In your final moments realization that's growing:

Remember

We all go. Don't you know?

Insensitivity Sprung Spontaneously.

Today I offended my new Mexican friend.

Now I feel like a jerk.

She posted a quote off some bullshit PETA source (FUCK PETA THOSE MOTHERFUCKING BRAINWASHING MOTHER FUCKERS) that basically bagged on Costco for "Selling 15 of the 22 endangered fish." Loling in my Republican and thus crimson heart, I commented: "Mmmmm I love the taste of endangered fish. "

Yep. Then I forgot how seriously some people take me.

So she got upset enough to remove the whole post, and text me calling me mean for bagging on her Environmental obsession.

(-_-')

It's a bummer how people can get so hyped up about such frivolous things such as endangered damn species. Yes, let's save 2 spotted owls in South America--never mind that we'll put hundreds of thousands of people out of work (I.E the lumber company, processor, and the list goes on). Let's save THOSE SPOTTED OWLS.

"It's not humane."

Key: Humane. Humane is a human concept. Do you think there is such thing as "humane" in the animal kingdom? Where predators literally rip each other to shreds? Meh.

I could literally write for hours about how this shit bothers the hell out of me. But I already have. Everyday of sophomore year I came home to Youtube to comment on Youtube videos of "SAVE THE ANIMALS IN AFRICA" (How about save the fucking starving children!?) or "BAN EXPERIMENTS ON MICE" (Yes, let's just stop research for medical advancement). Everyday I would rush my little face to my computer screen--opening my inbox chock-full of hating vegans, animal activists, and other wackos. "You're a heartless bastard" they would say, "I hope you go to hell." HAH. HOH. HAH! I loved refuting them. It was my entertainment of my little 10th grade year.

I researched my cause. I researched their cause. I learned a lot.

Then God gave me a present.

At the end of the year, my English class held "presentations" that were basically debates on different controversial issues. Recently, I had grown a rivalry to this vegetarian girl in class, otherwise known as Katherine. She was a PETA follower.

And what do you know? I get paired up against her to debate Animal Experimentation.

It was the highlight of the damn year.

Needless to say, I ripped her up so thoroughly I felt like Judge Judy on steroids. Blatantly, I pointed out so many damn flaws in the mindset of hers that she began to stumble and stutter--unknowing how to proceed. I had never felt so empowered and confident. I knew my shit, I knew her shit. I knew THE shit. And it was miraculous how turn of events gave me a shot to show it.

So many kids are drawn to PETA, as PETA uses celebrities and band members (such from that of I.E: NeverShoutNever and Silverstein just to name a few). Asking them questions about "How do you feel about animals being abused?" Well no shit--I don't think a normal person LIKES animal abuse. They're only using them to push their stupid agenda on "Animal Liberation."

"I think you've gone too far Kid Will. Please Stop."

I've gone too damn far? The PETA agenda is literally pushing Animal RIGHTS. Do you know what rights means? They have a set of rules that are to serve as guidelines for each of them. With rights comes responsibilities--and thus consequences. They're ANIMALS dammit. Literally, if you look into what PETA is pushing--they are AGAINST PETS.

"Lol whut? Nah!"

That's right. You know that pet you love so much? It's a slave. It needs to be liberated. It needs to have rights. PETA shits on people like you.

They are against you eating anything that once lived.

(Never mind the fact that we wouldn't BE HERE if we didn't!)

"Okay I get it. Hate PETA. Is that right?"

Well... yes! Actually. Hate PETA. But I suppose this entire blog initially was not intended to shove my beliefs down your throat. I really was just going to say that I learned a valuable lesson today and that was: to think twice before speaking on a controversial issue, especially if it might be offensive and to also consider whether or not it is worth an argument or disagreement if it's with friend.

"Yea it did seem pretty blunt. Good going."

Yea it's one of those moments in life where you think back and say "Damn, why did I say that?" and realized that you were just in that mindset where you didn't consider shit.

Oh well. Now I feel better.

...a little.

Art is Behind Math is Behind Art.

OKAY OKAY OKAY! shut up. Guess what!?

(You know, now that I think about it, it's interesting how regular phrases in our language quickly lose their originality to be replaced by cliche sentiments. Such as: "Guess What." It's not even a question. It's a statement. It's not: "Guess what I did today?" or "Guess who I met?" No, they don't want you to guess--they just want to tell you. In this fashion, you basically ASK to know what they want to say, leaving no room for any doubt on whether or not you were interested in the first place. Thus--they tell you directly to "Guess: "What" Just something interesting I thought I would mention...)

"Okay Kid Will, stfu with your long bullshit parenthesis trying to act all smart and just tell me!"

Okay! I woke up this morning to weigh myself in the bathroom and I couldn't believe my eyes to witness my scale say: "Loading....Processing...Weighing...1 3 5." Fuckin' made my day! I gained 3 pounds! THREE. In just a week! I'm so happy. I've never weighed so much in my life!

(Unless you count the time when my cousins were coming over and I knew they all loved goldfish--but fuck it dude goldfish is MY favorite snack--so I forced myself to eat all of it selfishly and greedily so I wouldn't have to share)

So I guess I might just have a shot at this bulking thing after all.

You know, I never really feel like blogging. I really don't--until I open up this page and actually start typing. I guess it's true when they say Find motivation in the doing rather than the thinking.

(Okay maybe that's not exactly how it goes--but it's like telling a funny joke to a friend and not knowing all the important details--you just end up looking retarded--unless you pretend that you forgot the rest of the joke in an effort to save your humiliation credit to the fact that you fail at any type of humorous ploy.)

"Wow Kid Will, you really like using parenthesis today don't you?"

Well. I like to try new things. The way I think of it, if I scramble an egg 100 different ways over 100 days, I'm bound to find the BEST way out of those 100 methods--isn't that correct? Rather than finding something simple that "kinda" works--but just sticking with it anyway because I know it's "decent." You give that idea a damn long thought as it deserves--and once you get the message you read on, you reading thing you.

By the way, is it just me, or when you get a whiff of a very different scent, your entire life sometimes seems to zoom out into perspective, or you feel as if you're someone else, or that you're life is somehow different temporarily?

If you answered yes, give yourself a high five.







(Hah that's a clap! you moron!)

If you answered no, close this window out and resist coming back to reread the rest of this blog.

Today was an interesting day anyway. After having an orgasmic instance of joy at seeing 135 on the weight scale, I lurched my fatass straight back into my room to learn "Girls Not Grey" on the guitarra. Not finished yet, but it's a complicated song. Then I sang "I'M LIVING ALONE" as I bunny hopped around my house (Home Alone 2 anyone?) when I realized that...you guessed it--I was alone. Subsequently, (that means: in the following event, or afterward, and yes it's a very smart sounding word so remember the meaning and use it when you need to report to police officers on what happened at the crime scene. An example might be: "I began eating my sandwich and subsequently, I saw John get shot in the face." See? It makes you seem THAT much more credible, and if you're on the news, both your friends AND family will be brimming with pride at that smart individual they are associated with--which in all cases of cases--will be you. ) I made myself some beefaroni and then got dressed for work.

I don't like calling it work. Your mentality will fuck you if you keep thinking that what you're doing is "work" or otherwise, a negative connotative definition of something you are inevitably obligated to take part in--thus causing a higher percentage of mental drain as you do your job. I just think of it as "Runnin' the Fro-Yo Lounge."

Doesn't is sound better anyway?

"Hey Will, what are you up to this week?"
"I have work all week."
"(-_-)"
"(-_-)"

OR!

"Hey Will, what are you up to this week?"
"Bitch!--I be chillun at the Fro-Yo Lounge n shiet. Slicen them Strawburries nd shiet."
"(0_0)"
" (:D) " (SIDEWAYS FACE OF MILD CONTENTMENT)

In summary:

Make your thinking fit reality
instead of trying to
make reality fit your thinking.

Or reality...will end you.

"You're too Skinny"

So I'm finally taking weightlifting seriously. Like...for real for real.

Ever since I was a little 5th grader trying to impress this girl I liked--I remember I started lifting those tiny little weights--and damn did I try hard. I remember every other day I'd be listening to Sum 41 on the radio trying to outdo my push-up record and just do stretches and what not.

I remember the first time I did curls. My older sister had a set of 3 pound weights, so I held them both (to make 6!) and did literally over 200 reps. I couldn't move my arm the rest of the week--but that's not the point. I was a determined little fucker.

Things really were different back then...I enjoyed doing homework--I enjoyed helping my mom cook and clean, I enjoyed exercising just for fun. ...before I discovered video games.

Well I'm a man of research--so I've spent a lot of time on body building forums, yahoo answers, and nutrition books at Barnes and Noble and have now set myself for a new nutritional lifestyle. (It's not a diet because diets are temporary.) So I'm trying to consume my weight in grams of protein. (That's around 130g of protein a day people!)

My eyes have been glued to the back of nutrition labels, adding up on my cellphone what has the most protein, and how much I can consume. I've learned that in order to keep your protein levels up, you need to eat basically every 3 hours. So a typical day would have me eating oatmeal and 3 eggs in the morning (say 7AM) a meaty sandwich at 10, chicken strips and hopefully veggies by 1, a protein bar at 4, dinner (God hope mom made some meat!) at 7, and probably another sandwich at 9. It's just kind of sucky because...I really don't eat a lot. In fact, I'm used to going for days with just a bowl of cereal and orange juice all day. ...what's the opposite of anorexic?

I went to the local Vitamin store off Nicholas. Walked up to the buff store clerk, and told him I wanted to basically look like him. So he took the liberty of explaining for over half an hour how protein works to rebuild and repair muscles and how his supplements helped etc. etc. I was also glad that I gave him something to do and made him feel knowledgeable because damn--did he look bored when I walked in.

As he says: "You don't need supplements kid, it's just for people who don't get enough protein from the regular food they eat...and that's basically the case."

So I bought a fat jar (see above) of protein powder for protein shake, to take after a workout.

The thing is...I spend all my time eating, and about 1% of the time actually working out. It's fucking amazing--I don't even lift weights that much, I'm just stuffing myself. According to body building pros, 60% of body building is just what you fuel yourself with. It makes sense. So I look forward like a little kid on my work-out days because it's only for an hour.

I also realized I've been working out wrong my entire life.

I've always used light weights, a shit load of repititions--and sometimes the next morning my muscles wouldn't even be sore! (that's ...really bad because you need to "tear" your muscle so that it rebuilds itself to get bigger. Just like when we tore down Germany and then they came back with WW2 and a fucking holocaust, except all that is suppose to be going on inside different parts of your body)

But now I know I need to load enough weight on so that I am physically only able to do 5 reps, for 5 sets. And VOILA! it takes no time to finish the workout, and I feel sore as hell the next day.

Yep, I overkilled you with too much information, but I just wanted to write this all out so that 10 years later I'll read back and say: "Oh, I remember that's what I did." Whether future me will be muscular or just fat--as long as its documented.

My goal is to weigh in at 150 pounds (I'm about 130 now) by the end of this year.

I think it can happen...

Chop Chop!

YES. Sliced up strawberries. I had to slice pounds of strawberries yesterday for my new job!

The Fro Yo Lounge.

Okay, well it's called Yogurt Factory. But you get the point. Officially, yesterday was my first shift ever from 12pm-4pm, working with the manager, Melanie (a very nice lady!). So just before arriving my inferiority complex was kicking in and saying:

"Dude, no way you could work at yogurt factory you'll fuck things up."
"Didn't I ban you?"

Then I remembered that I banned that little voice, and it didn't peep up again. It's great to be in control considering that that little voice used to be my voice. But you know what they say--you can't carry on a conversation if you're too focused on the vibrations of your larynx! (Well, I'm sure someone has said that before...maybe in India. He'd probably be a really weird guy with a fat wife named Apolonia--and I'm sure he doesn't make much but fuck it dude--he's trying to support his family, and as long as he continues to try, let his efforts be rewarded.)

So I walked in and realized that when it came down to it--this wasn't just a "Job." I was helping this woman run her business. "Help" is a key word here, and once you grasp that concept you realize that all your efforts come as naturally as just helping a friend or around the house. So I wasn't worried.

She showed me to the back and I was able to take in the full effect:

Large butts of machines that spewed yogurt from the front to hungry customers, the washing station to wash YOUR HANDS, SOAP FOR THOSE HANDS, a sink to wash dishes, rinse, and a soaking disinfectant for all the dishes. And then...The REFRIGERATOR!

"This is the refrigerator, we keep all our treasures within these stainless steel Goblin-Proof walls."

(Well she didn't word it that way exactly, but she might as well of because--)

She opened the gates and I was taken aback at the awesome amounts of fresh fruit. The aroma took me. I was in yogurt paradise. There were fridges of yogurt mix, stock piles of all the toppings from Snicker chunks to marshmallows to sprinkle covered snowcaps to caramel cups.

It wasn't before long when she asked me in a polite voice:

"How do you feel about chopping fruit?"
"...pretty good."

And there I was! Chopping pineapples and strawberries, just messing with random and different ways on how to cut them. (Yes it sounds lame. Yes it sounds awesome.) I was being paid to slice deliciousness.

Then came the register and all that interesting stuff where I concentrated on the procedure and trying to appear as happy as possible to all the customers. It was a little stressful at first but after 2 hours it was like walking.

It was over before I knew it. Which reminds me of something I talked about with father the other day.

"Dad, would you still live life if it were the most torturous most miserable life ever?"
"Compare something with nothing."
"Okay."
"I'll take the something."

As our conversation continued he told me:

"It doesn't matter if time passes slowly or quickly for you during the period. It could be the worst time ever, and you could feel as if it's never going to end; but it will all have seemed to have passed too quickly in when it's over."

I've remembered it crystal clearly and recall it when I find that hours are grueling, or when I just feel like shit. It will all seem too quick when its over.

You. Never. Blog.

So I guess this isn't a blogging community. It's just me checking the blog site from time to time (yes, I know, more like everyday) to see that no one updates their blogs. That's fine with me.

Fine with me.

I guess I do this for myself anyway.

You do Will Kid...you really do!

Wait a second...aren't you the voice of the typical reader?!

Why...yes, I am!

Well...how can you voice out your thoughts--if the typical reader is never even here?!

You See Kid Will, it doesn't matter whether a single soul other than yours even encounters these encoded words. This is hypothetical. Completely. In fact--all I am is a hypothetical synthesis of formulated pre-assumed opinions that are drawn from your experiences. Essentially--I am no one; yes, I am what you make of that "no one."

So Basically, if you're my assumed no-one. ..and my experiences and memories come from myself. ...YOU'RE JUST ME?!

That's right.

Then that means....I'M TALKING TO MYSELF?!?!?

...Well...yes.

Oh my God; IS THERE NO LIMIT TO MY PATHETIC EXISTENCE?!

Well---

Don't answer that. Don't FUCKING ANSWER THAT.

Please, you're embarrassing yourself---

TO FUCKING WHOM? My readers? My fellow blogmates? THEY DON'T EXIST REMEMBER??--

Now calm down! I exist. I'm with you. Don't I matter? Don't these italicized words of voice matter? Don't you love the sound of your own voice being echoed and characterized in your own head?

That's scary.. To think that I could live life... An entire existence by the voice of my own, predictable, repetitive....unoriginal gloom. How could anyone live alone? How Truly Amazing it is to have another person. Another being. Another voice. Another thinking mind--so radically different from your own, yet So Connected. so...right.

I guess I really am just typing all alone.







HEY WHAT ABOUT THE BOLDED ME?

Action!

(Mall shopping bystanders watching the filming take place. The directer is the man in the yellow hat while the stunt men are the men on the left. This scene is where one of the stuntmen run through the table in an epic chase! I walk into the shot with my friend but step back in terror to avoid being crashed into. It's about as epic as taking a shower with your clothes on.)


3:30AM my vision returned.

Being up early is different sometimes. It makes me feel as if my entire perspective of the world during the day was limited to my sights of shortcomings, tiresome objectives, and tendencies to underestimate my ability to fulfill what I deem to be worthwhile.

However, I felt surges of drastically different mindives. This morning.

"Will Kid....uhhh what's a mindive?"

(Mine-Div) Noun.

It's a word I made up to describe an instance of perspective. Think of it as a way of appropriately describing the figment or sentimental mentality you once held at a phase in your life. For example: Think of how you felt in 8th grade. That entire year in a nutshell. You had your music, the way your school smelled, the way you talked, the way you walked, the people you hung out with, your influences, your habits of mind, basically--all that was you in 8th grade.

All could be reminded by a simple scent or a voice from an old friend. All traced to your mentality back then, a nostalgic turn of waves that hinted your imagination to that of which you once had.

Because I have no idea how else to describe something such as that--I made up the "Mindive" concept a year or so ago to aid with the fluency in my explanations.

....uhhh I still have no idea what the fuck you're talking about.

One day you will, Hobbit.

Anyway, the mindives I experienced this morning was unlike that of many. It was a new perspective altogether filled with hope, wonder, and an immeasurable amount of optimism I haven't felt in literally, years.

Packed in the car with my dad and my new friend Robert, we made our way to Hollywood to cast as "tourists" for extras in the premiere first episode of season 2, NCIS.

It was quite amazing.

Robert and I hung out basically the entire 12 hours; breakfast was filling, lunch was fantastic, and sandwiches and fruits were all offered during the day. I ate so much, I couldn't tell whether I was full or not anymore--so I continued to think that I was hungry just so that I would eat MORE. (I'm skinny, I think a little extra weight wont hurt me)

We made jokes at all the Hot Blondes we saw at the public mall (where the shots were filmed), made inside jokes of all the peculiar things we witnessed on set, and were privileged enough to see actually professional stuntmen jump off of mall bridges and run through crowds with small fight scenes meshed in between.

I learned a lot today about how production works, spent a good amount getting more acquainted with my new friend, and ate. A lot.

So after a day's "hard work" earning $144, we all packed into the car and headed home.

Arrived on set: 6AM

Arrived at home: 9PM

Mood: Tired-as-fuck

But I can't kill the day without shedding the memories on this medium of storage.

By the end of the century I'll be dead; but these memories will rerun themselves perpetually. Until meaning overlaps meaning.

Hooray for Hygiene

Already losing sleep--gotta get up at 4am for work but I have an urge to blog to finish the day.

You know, reflecting on your day is just as important if not more as living it.

Slept late 2AM last night talking to random "Friends" on Facebook and listening to NeverShoutNever's What is Love. It's addicting after awhile.

So I woke up around 11ish (which is epically ultra super-duper rare for me) and opened my day with a 10 minute freestyle rap in the shower.

"That's Gay Will Kid."

NO IT'S NOT YOU HOMOPHOBIC SONUVABITCH.

I'm getting better actually. I've finally embraced the technique of not thinking, and letting my subconscious find the rhymes for me. It's an amazing hit on the mind when you're bustin them rhymes...

So after the shower I took G-Ma to the store and for the remaining part of the day I reorganized my entire closet, and bedroom. Everything is spotless, neat, and super duper nice looking! A nice looking room is a HAPPY ROOM. Well...it makes me happy anyway. I'm such a FaQ that I labeled some of my drawers...and made folders with sharpied titles like : College Related. Misc. and "Legal" Documents. Heh.

Got a call from Yogurt Factory. According to the manager, they're going to "Give me a chance" So fuck yes. It will be the best mistake they'll ever make letting me work there. *Evil rubbing of the left knuckles with the right palm*

See how neat this mother fker is?! Folded all my junk and even put up some damn decoration cuz I was feeling so generous. I used to just throw shit into my closet and leave it to rot under the piles of other crap.

In Leadership Academy our rooms were inspected every morning--and if they didn't meet regulation--we had a possibility of failure and thus not graduate. They judged shit on "Hospital Fold Beds" accurate down to the inch; cleanliness of the bathroom, and our closet. Our hangers had to be evenly spaced (so my roommates and I devised a method called the "3 finger rule" which sounds as dirty as it's not. Basically you just leave a space of 3 fingers between the hangers. I have no idea why I wanted to share that information but it was a weird but productive experience so I might as well type it.)

Well I'm already getting less than 6 hours of sleep as it is, so I won't bother to proofread this one for any errors. So if you find little imperfections that inevitably lead to a flawed author, then congrats--you're amazing.

Good night Children of the Night.

May Be The First, But It Won't Be The Last

Actually had a legit shopping day alone.

No mom and dad.

No older sister with brilliant taste in fashion.

Just me, myself, and my mustang.

Left around 10:30am and returned around 6pm after hitting

Goodwill, Ross, Burlington Coat Factory, Salvation Army, and then finally Hot Topic, to get one of those collared shirts on the wall--something I've been wanting to do since the 4th grade.

I've never really shopped for clothes by myself but I guess I'm a big boy now and I can make big decisions like deciding what to put over my flesh for the contentment of myself and the pleasing display for others. Sarcasm.

But it was fun because I made believe that I was on a TV reality show and I had to create outfits for an upcoming Run Way event of things soley from Thrift Stores (which come to think of it...isn't a fucking bad idea at all) This way I was in and out of those Jumpers as efficiently as possible.

But. Shopping. Was. Fun.

I felt like Ken from Toy Story 3 at one point. "NOBODY UNDERSTANDS CLOTHES LIKE ME BARBIE." Clothes can really transform a person--it's pretty crazy.

I feel weird right now. I think I might be getting sick. You know that feeling where you start getting achey and you say to yourself what all Newly Weds say "Shit, I hope this isn't the beginning of something that's about to get painful."

My heart is ticking. . . hopefully it goes off soon.

Big City Dreams

Woke up feeling misdirected, dirty, and hollowed out.

Rehearsed FCPR Remix and Cliffs of a Dover before learning a verse of Girl's Not Grey on my Fender, before heading out the door with pops to the set of Californication.

It was a nice day out.

I was able to extract more useful information from my Old Man. Always worth a long drive to be in the same car as him.

Talked with Mat and a new girl named Marika for 4 hours, playing ninja, and just talking about random stuff; before breaking for lunch that had delicious food... i.e lasagna, steak, chicken, fish, brownies, ice cream, and salad.

Relocated thereafter to shoot for fifteen minutes and I got to see David Duchovny in person! (Agent Molder from X-Files). Traveled back to the holding area, was dismissed from set. Easy day, easy money around 80 bucks.

It's a good life when you're ''working."

So I've been starting to take working out more seriously, after buying a set of weights, bars, and an actual weight bench off of Craigslist. (The above picture are the barbell weights I had to wash before I set up in my room) I've realized that I've been working out all wrong. I took a picture 3 months ago of myself and compared it with one of today and made an amazing discovery:

There was no difference.

Through considerable research however, I've discovered that you actually can't make clay figures without clay. In other words, my muscles have nothing to grow off of--they need damn protein and all this other technical shit I need to gobble down.

In other words, I've been working out but I haven't been nourishing my body correctly. Damn if I knew that it took more than just working out to make strong meatheads these days. So now I'm looking into protein shakes, some supplements and planning out meals for a high protein diet to work out with.

Interesting, how life is full of hidden complexities.

Manufacture Perfect Personalities.

Today my calling for a social life kicked in and I couldn't do anything without hating it.

I couldn't read, play the guitar, rap out, work out, youtube, make videos, draw--or anything even remotely creative or productive.

All because I felt an overwhelming sickness of solitude.

It's unbearable sometimes.

It's unnecessary often times.

Emotions are tedious. >_>

4 days = $400

Took awhile to write about it (Okay, a whole week!)

But last week I made a fat load of $400 doing extra work in Hollywood.

By far the easiest job in the entire fucking world.

The food was amazing; catered quality fit for damn royalty (that guy who cuts beef at buffets was there).

Also, the holding area for all the extras, (where you can just hang out, socialize, read a book, do-whatever-you-feel-like-doing time) contained all you can eat fruit (I had 5 fucking awesome bananas in one day) nut bars, miniature bottles of Gatorade and all the flavored juices known to man.

All Food: Free.

So I spent the majority of my time in the holding area, meeting amazing people--thinking to myself "Holy shit, there are still awesome people who live out there and I don't even know they exist yet!" Very friendly people, all with their own stories to tell.

So being the nerd I am, I busted out Apples to Apples from my car, and ended up playing with a bunch of 20+ year olds the all too enjoyable game.

Oh by the way, we were all getting paid 8 an hour while we played this game.

Heck, I would hardly call this "job" work. All I did was socialize, read my book, and got to be one of the background high school kids in an upcoming movie starring Steve Carrel.

Will-Kid, you're bragging like a fatass who just ate too much cake.

Yea, well it was amazing cake. ...with some catch
The downside:

I didn't take a shower in 3 days.

I would drive all the way to hollywood at 4AM in the morning, and drive back around 10PM, go to sleep, get about 5 hours of sleep, wake up at 4AM again and rinse and repeat over the course of the 3 day shoot. I simply didn't have the damn time to take a shower. What I should have done was make a friend who lived in the area and crashed there (that's what one of my friends there did, one who obviously thinks smarter than I).

A little stress, but that meant 10 hours+ of hanging out, being on set, and walking around "pretending" to be a high school boy.

If you're ever interested in trying any of this out, just be forewarned of the $ it costs for gas to drive all the way up there--and did I mention--driving in the insane streets in hollywood renders you a fearless driver.

Central Casting. 95% of extras you see in movies, television shows, etc. are all brought in by Central Casting, if you're ever interested in trying this out.

Toodles poodles...

Do it, Like There's Nothing To it.

Hung out with Tatiana at the Pechanga Pow Wow Today. I'm pretty sure that's how you spell pow wow.

It was cold as fuck but hey, a little discomfort only enriches later fortunes--such as being WARM.

Good talks on the playground; though the bunnies were awfully noisy tonight and I kept gripping my car key as a weapon; imagining what strategy to employ should a hooligan lunge from the bushes.


Fun stuff.
Frybread was pretty good.
Great Fireworks.
Worked out--despite my laziness when I woke up.


Seems like motivation is found in the doing, and nothing else.