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Old Jul 21st, 2006, 09:04 PM        My Journal, in Loveline.
Here it is:

Entry 01, July 8th.

Hi. I'm Fathom Zero. I'm 15. I don't personally know most of you, and I
don't think I ever will. I live in Lawton, OK. I used to live with my
mother, until yesturday, July 7th, 2006. In order to explain why I do
no longer, Ineed to provide a little back story:

My mother and father have been fighting off and on over the custody
of my two brothers and I. I know for a fact that my mother and my step-
father genuinely love us, while my father and his wife do not. I've
been to court on three different occasions to argue my case. Hardly
any of it was taken seriously and was dissmissed as influence on my
mother's part. As a matter of fact, my good grades were actually used
to attack my mother's case, the basis of which was that I was only
getting good grades because I wanted to live with my mum. My entire
future, of which my grades were more than likely dependant upon, had
nothing to do with it whatsoever.

That's all history now, and Judge Is-a-cock decided to toss us in with
my father and his ugly-ass wife for six months, with next to no
internet access. In all likely-hood, they're probably reading this
right now. In which case, I'd like to say fuck you. I don't think I'll
ever have the gall to tell you that to your face.

Moving on.

I am now stuck in this house. I've never before wanted to go back to
school. I wish I took Summer School. I have CABIN FEVER. I have a very
tiny room, right next to my brothers' room. I have a bed-frame and bed,
while they only have one bed to split between them and no bed-frame. It
just sits there on the floor. I can't pick up the Heavy Metal station
on my pitiful clock radio, so it is now tuned to the local oldies
station, whatever that is. The computer I'm typing on is a reformatted
Windows '98, loaded to the brim with American Online 5.0 ads. I think
I even saw a Compuserve one. I refuse to use word, so I'm using
Notepad. I'm thinking of bringing my PSP over and Piggybacking off of
the asshole neighbor's WLAN connection. At least I have a machine where
I can hone my L33t skills. Hah. I hate L33t-speek.

My dad and his wife have two dachshaunds, or wiener-dogs for the
uninitiated. They refer to the dogs as their kids. I wonder what they
refer to my brothers and I as when we're gone.

Sweet! America's "Sister Golden Hair" is on the radio. That song always
got to me. Well I keep on thinking 'bout you, Sister Golden Hair
Suprise. Well I just can't live wiithout you, can't you see it in my
eyes? Anyway...

The dogs are constantly annoying and rip to shreds anything they can
get their damn teeth around, be it important papers or shoes.

I'm afraid to say anything around my father or his wife. And that's
okay, because they're just as afraid of me. I like that. My stepmother
is unworthy of the title, she will always be "My father's wife".
My stepfather earned his title.

My father's wife is ugly. I MEAN U.G.L.Y. Terrifyingly. It looks like
someone hit her in the back of her thighs with a sack of nickels.
Nasty. She has a face that you could cut a roast on and facial hair to
boot. Hense her title, "Yeti". She is, I hate to admit, the wicked
stepmother, personified. I hate to attatch labels and maintain that
real life couldn't possibly be the way it is in stories and that all of
those other people saying it are being melodramatic, but there is no
other way to describe it. That's just what she is.

Let me give you an example:

She gives my brothers and I one towel to split between ourselves when
we go to use the shower. I chalk this up to be stepmom bullshit and
dry off with my dirty clothes, instead. It doesn't bother me. But
it happens again and again over the course of a few weeks. I confront
her, which neither of us want me to do, and ask her what the fuck her
beef was, in kinder terms, of course. She says that was how she and
her two sisters did it and that's how we're going to do it. I call foul
and go to my dad, because I can't do shit about it. Apparantly, neither
can he, because she's got his nuts in her back pocket. Bitch.

She also likes to take us to church to "get some Jesus in us." She's
Catholic, which makes it a little easier because I've been to many
a Catholic Church. In my opinion, they're cold and boring and usually
have some near death old man whispering into his the microphone he's
hidden somewhere talking about people hundreds of years ago that I care
nothing about.

To me, church is like therapy, you'll only get something out of it if
you care to put something into it. That's just the way I am. I have no
problem with people who want to go to church. It's all good. If the
world ends and I end up in Purgatory, well fuck. I was wrong. Better
hope there's such a thing as reincarnation.

Anywho, enough of my ramblings on theology. Back to my father's wife.

She suffers from what I call "Disposable Religion". No matter what you
do outside the church, beit murder, abuse, masturbation, whatever,
you're absolved from it all, which, I assume is how confession works.
The same can be said of any other religion, except for those damn
witches and pagans, because we all know they're such a threat to our
children. You can praise Jesus all you want and pray for peace all
you want, you're still a shitty person if you act like a shitty person.

She likes to lecture us on things, like: "If God wanted you to have
coloured hair, he'd've, (a combination of he would have), made you that
way." I hate to be the one to break it to her, but marrying a divorced
man isn't something the church is too keen on, either.

She'll take the wafer and the grape juice and get down on her knees
and pray for something, and then, ON THE CAR-RIDE HOME FROM CHURCH,
she'll bad-mouth my mother in front of me. It's almost enough to make
me scream. One day, in the middle of church, I should just scream.
Embarass the hell out of her. Hey babe, I'm a teen. I've got no job
prospects yet and can chalk it all up to teenage angst. You've got to
deal with all of the stares from people you don't know.

She only works on the weekends from 2:00PM - 9:00PM. This leaves the
rest of the week open for us to do her dirty work.

I'm tired now, so good night.

Entry 02, July 9th.

I have to write this down while it's still fresh in my mind. I'm lying
in bed at 10:45 Am. I usually sleep till noon. My father comes into my
room and asks me if I want a waffle. I agree. I like waffles. I sleep
for about another 10 min. and walk out into the family/living room.
Sunday News on CBS is on TV, a segment about Road Bowling in West
Virginia was on. The only thing I remember was it being excessively

"Waffle's done!", Yeti shouts from the kitchen. I don't know whose
waffle it was, since I was the last one up, so I hesitate and ask her.
"It's yours if you want it.", she says. So I sit down and remember
that these wierdos keep their Maple Syrup in the fridge. What the fuck?
I may not be a rocket scientist, but I know that when syrup is cooled,
it hardens and contracts. So it takes me about 3 min. to slather my
waffle with the amount of syrup I like: a lot.

During this time, my eldest bro walks into the kitchen and waits his
turn. The my father comes in, followed by my younger bro.

Younger bro makes himself a drink and takes a seat across from me. I'm
still pouring syrup out of that damned container. My father walks
further into the kitchen next to his wife and begins to lecture us on
leaving wrappers on the floor and how to properly put gum in the trash
can. Yeti chimes in about how her precious dogs could get sick from
eating trash.

Her dogs are dumb.

She says that if the dogs get sick (they won't) and she has to take
them to the vet (she won't have to), it'll be coming out of the money
she uses to spend on the Little Debbies and other assorted treats she's
under the impression we can't live without. I know for a fact that she
can't live without her snack cakes. We can. We don't even want to be
here, much less eat your food. I guess this is just another hazard of
owning two $950.00, dumb dogs.

Now on to the good part.

At this point, she thinks she's on a roll and thinks she can tell us to
do anything. So she tells us about another thing we do that irks her.

Actually, it irks both her and her mother.

Setting down half full cups.

Wait a minute, maybe you didn't hear me right.


Perhaps you need to hear it again.


Yes, apparantly it is such a travesty to not gorge yourself on all of
the liquid in a glass at once. Maybe it applies to other things, like
food. So that's the reason why both she and her mother are cows.

Me, well I'd never heard of such lunacy, so I scarfed down the rest of
my waffle and high-tailed it into the bathroom to take a cleansing
shower. After which, I went into my room, sat down, and started banging
out this little scene.

Maybe I'm just crazy. Maybe I'm over exagerating (sp?). However, I feel
at the end of these six long months, I will have given you just a taste
of what it is to live in this house.

Later That Day...

I've spent most of the afternoon and morning playing Onimusha: Dawn of
Dreams. I've always loved the Onimusha series, more than any other.
Aside from the Metal Gear Solid series, of course. This Onimusha has
proved to be most fun for me. It's probably the most original of the
series, taking a departure from the survival-horror style static camera
angles in favor of a 3rd Person Adjustable camera. As an added bonus,
co-op makes an appearance as an unlockable, instead of straight out of
the box, a la Enter the Matrix. It wasn't co-op in Enter the Matrix,
though. Even though it was poorly executed, it still had its moments.

But damn, was it SHORT. I finished it in three hours, separated by a
trip to the movie theater. The only other game the beat that, well I
should say games, was the Gungrave series. Now THAT was a game. Total
ass-kicking action and explosions, just long enough to get your
attention and provide you with some thrills. That game was made for the
arcade. I'm disappointed at the lack of arcades here in the States.
I was looking at my 3 month old PLay Magazine issue the other day and
say a kickass Dynasty Warriors-esque game and got all excited. But then
I realized I'll probably never see it on this side of the world.

Bastard American kids, spoiled with their PS3s and X-Box 360s, they
never got to experience the true glory of the arcade, all the sights,
the smells, the pizza-faced teenagers watching the Ticket Redeeming
counters. You never go over there, though, because Street Fighter
doesn't give flimsy tickets as your prize. No, sir. You prize is the
knowledge that you could kick anyone's ass with that red knob-like
joystick and a small set of buttons. Reputations were made and lost
in the blink of an eye. Of course, there's always tommorow, providing
you kept some of what was left of your allowance to play the damn

Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, and all of the rest of those kinds of
games weren't really my bag, though. I'm more of a pinball kind of guy.
Nothing beat Whirlwind. The Addams Family one was okay, so was the
Twilight Zone one. But the Elvira one was horrible. And even though I
know it exists, I have yet to see the Nightmare On Elm Street pinball
table. Ah, fond memories of earlier years. That's all we have in the
end. My life has been short, but I have a lifetime of memories to take
with me.

That sounded so damn cheesy.

I shouldn't worry about what I've done but worry more about what's
going to define me as a person in the future. Never dwell on the past.


Oh well, I'm sure the rest of the house has went to the pool by now.
They left me alone in the house. I'm gonna go sneak on the laptop with
the internet right now.


Even later that day, at 6:00 PM...

My father tried feebly to get me interested in a job mowing lawns for
$30.00 bucks a pop on the military base. Fat chance.

In order to explain why I turn down such easy money, I need to go back
to last summer.

It was the summer of 2005, I was up in Westbend, Wisconson, staying
with my father for two months. I had already had a job as a librarian.
I loved it. It was good. It made me feel good as a person to
contribute something to society.

My father got me a job, and for that summer, I was the custodial
engineer for the United States Armed Forces Recruitment Center in
Westbend, WI. I had to clean the ugly pea-green coloured bathrooms and
empty out garbage cans, wipe windows, et cetera. Definately not
something I was used to doing each and every day. For this, I was
figuratively paid $100.00 a month. I say figuratively, because in the
end, I never saw any of the $200.00 dollars I had earned.

I want to stop here and say that, from personal experience, based on
cleanliness of the offices, if you were to pick a division of the
military, the Marines would not be it. It was by far, the dirtiest
office out of all four branches. They had chewing tobacco spat out all
over everything, food stuffs overflowing from all of the wastebaskets,
you name it, they had it all over the floor.


I took this info to my mum and she called her lawyer, who is a shark,
and they took it to court. My father's, (and subsequently, his wife's),
response was that they had tried to make an account, but it was just
too hard. I know this for a fact, because I've seen transcripts of the
court proceedings. They then changed their response to they had really
given me the money, but forgot about it. Whatever, though.

When you live a life like mine, you have to get used to routine
disappointment, which is something no one should go through. That's
why I wasn't mad when I found out I had scrubbed Uncle Sam's Shitters
for nothing. I just called it bullshit and went on with my life.
That's not the only reason I don't trust my father or his wife. I
trusted him, even after her perjured in court. Even after all that I
still trusted him. No. The real reason I don't trust him now is because
he lied to me about my grades at school during my freshman year at
Lawton High School.

I live in perpetual fear that nothing I do will be good enough, all
of this is compounded by the fact that my father and mother are
squabbling over pointless shit my father brings up in court and
every move I make is documented. Every paper, every grade, every bowel
movement is catalogued and is somehow skewed in a way to take me away
from my mother and put me in the talons of my father.

I had been doing fairly well until about halfway through the year, when
my knowledge, or should I say lack of knowledge, in German landed me in
trouble. At the end of the school year, I managed to scrape by with a
D+. But during the year, it was a constant point of contention.
I was constantly told that I was going to fail if I didn't get my head
in the game from both my mother and my father. My mother legitimately
cared about my future. I know now that my father did not.

The my father brought up that I was going to fail anyway, because I had
too many absenses. It wouldn't matter that I turned all of my work in
and was making fairly average grades, no that didn't matter. I blame
that mainly on Lawton Public Schools, which is easily the worst public
school system in the country.

Naturally, I was crushed by this news. I by no means put as much hard
work into school as other students did, but I think that what I did
should have counted for something. So I shut down. If it didn't
matter anyway, why should I continue? So I maintained a half-intrest
in school and spent most of my time playing Final Fantasy and watching
B-Movies. That is, until I got sick. Real sick.

I was feeling a bit down, around mid-February. I remember this all
vividly. Then I started coming down with the flu. Finally, it ended
with my collapsing in the hall-way before lunch break at school and
being woken up by my best pal Ryan. He said he was walking beside me
when I fell down. I wasn't really so much passed out as I couldn't open
my eyes. I called my mum and I was home for a week. I went back to
school the next week. For a day. Then my eyes swelled shut. I found
out I had both Strep Throat and Pink Eye.

I went to the doctor and he wrote me a pass for all of the days I had
missed before the Pink Eye and for any future days I may miss. That was
for five days. I went back to school on a Friday, February 27th. I
come home, do my homework, and play Final Fantasy X. My grandfather
calls on the phone. He usually doesn't do that unless it's for my mum.
My stepdad tells him that my mum's at work. I can only assume that
my grandfather called there next. My mum comes home, we'd made pizzas.
I made a Chicago-style deep dish, like the kind the make at Giordanos,
for any of you who live in the Windy City. My mum walks in all quiet
and I go back to my room. I come out about a half an hour later to find
the television and computer off. I get a glass of tea, and as I'm
walking back to my room, I see my stepdad holding my mother in his
arms. She's crying. She told me to go to my room. So I go, willing to
do anything to make her happy in a time of need. An hour later, at
11:00 Pm, I go back out to see if the storm had quieted. It had,
although she still looked a little off-balance.

I sat down on the couch and she gathered the rest of the family on
the couch as well.

And that was when she told us that she recieved a call from my
grandfather who got a call from the police and my aunt who found my
uncle dead of a gunshot wound. A suicide.

I didn't tear up. I don't mean to sound like a hard ass, or insensitive
but I'm just the guy that keeps a level head in situations like this.
It was overwhelming. My aunt lived with my uncle, in Cleveland. He had
had visitation with his children that day, and when he brought them
back, he brought with him all of the toys from his house and a check
for a "large sum of money to take care of the children". A stand-up
guy if I ever knew one.

Later, we found out that he was in the terminal stages of prostate
cancer. He'd had it for a very long time and neglected to tell us.
He was there, at my grandmother's house, not two months earlier for
Christmas. He must have been in so much pain.

The funeral was awesome, although I was mortified (haha, get it?) on
one occasion in which I fell asleep in a chair in the funeral parlour,
not thirty feet from the body. Eew. I had the good fortune to have my
other uncle wake me up.

He laid there, with rosary beads in one hand, tabasco sauce in another,
covered in a Terrible Towel, in his Mario Lameux jersey. He looked good
for a dead guy. In the end, however, he was cremated and his ashes are
to be spread across the Sonoma desert, which he loved. He was the man
who introduced me to the tradition of Midnight Turkey.

I refused to touch the body, though.

Anyway, I'm chasing rabbits. I must return.

After all of these ordeals, the multiple sicknesses, the death, etc. I
had accumulated 3 weeks out of school.

When I got back to school, I was faced with a mountain of homework.
At least, that's what I thought. Most of my teachers didn't care enough
to assign anything for me. In Debate, we didn't do anything, anyway,
because there were only five students in the class at that time. Five.
My English teacher didn't give me any work because she said that it
was unfair to have to make her get all of this work together in such
a short time. I told her that my mom would sue both her and the school
system, which she would. That seemed to set my teacher scrambling. I
told this all to my mother and she came down the next day and forced my
teacher to give me some form of work. So what I mostly got were packets
of worksheets from most of my teachers. I didn't do all of them,
because they were all due that week, but I did do the ones from the
classes I had the worst grades in, I.E. German and English. Prioritize.
I didn't get any packets from my Algebra teacher, though.

For the rest of the year, I gimped along. I hardly even remember what
happened after that, except some kid stole my Spring Edition of Heavy
Metal and I read Flowers for Algernon. It was a nice book.

Then it was testing time. Two weeks before the finals, we had to take
all sorts of practice quizzes, which I aced. Somehow, I defied all
logic and reason by making the highest grades in every class. Everyone
was amazed at my turn around in grades. It didn't suprise me at all.
I've always been a testy kind of guy, LOLZ OMGZ. In the fifth grade,
I tested into an average knowledge of what a 12th Grader knows.
I was ecstatic to say the least.

Also at no suprise to me, I passed my Freshman year of High School with
flying colours. Yippie, somebody strike up the band.

So, as usual, my dad and his wife were stumped.

Entry 03 July 10th.

We got a lecture this morning on how my father never lied to us and
what's going to happen during the months we're here. He said that
I was the main concern, because in three short years, I should be going
to some college or something. They had to find some way to "help" me
before I got back to school, so my grades wouldn't be as bad as before.
I don't even think they know what classes I have now.

Entry 05 July 14th.

I haven't made any other entries since Monday because I had no computer
in San Antonio. That's right. On a spur of the moment decision, Yeti
decided to take us to San Antonio and to Sea World and Six Flags.
And, boy, do I have some stories to tell.

We left on Monday at three. I remember well. There was a flurry of
activity as we tried to throw everything we needed into the car in
under ten minutes. It was fun to watch, as I was probably playing
Onimusha while everyone else was packing.

We were out on the road, eventually.

I found out that the Yeti has an annoying habit of singing the wrong
words to popular songs. Horrible renditions of "I Wanna Rock" and
that stupid Laffy-Taffy song.

For most of the ride, I was sitting in the center section of the Honda,
two seats away from my littlest bro. There wasn't much space and car-
rides are one of the most uncomfortable things for me. They aren't
good on my back and I've always been carsick. That's why I don't eat
when I'm going cross-country, which I do at least once every four
months. If I consume anything, it's going to be french fries and water.

So I sit, for seven hours, back in pain, and I have to sit through the
horror as my father listens to AM radio and Michael Savage and The
Savage Nation. I hate how his bumper music is heavy metal, as if
something he has to say was actually interesting to me. All he is is
a fat bag of hot air. I don't care for politics that much, anyway.

Oooh, Dee Snider's House of Hair is on the radio right now. He and
Alice Cooper are both fantastic radio DeeJays, unlike David Lee Roth.
Horrid. PEACE SELLS, BUT WHO'S BUYIN'? was the song playing. A very
good one.

Anyway, I'm chasing rabbits again.

For most of the trip, I slept lying back as far as I could and off
to the side, with my head up against the door, kind of like a side-ways
sit-up. I had an olive coloured blanket made of some material that
kept sheding on me, like some dog with the mange or leprosy. Haha.
My bro kept stealing the blanket away from me. This would be okay, if
I didn't thrive on heat and the car didn't have the air-conditioning on
full blast. I'm wrapped in a blanket right now and shivering. Room
temperature for me would be about 85 degrees. I was practically blue in
the face.

It also didn't help that the sun was shining on my face through the
untinted windows. :frownyface

I was woken up by being poked in the face, sometime around 4 at a gas
station, some ways after we blazed through Wichita Falls. I was the
one who had to take the dogs on a bathroom break. Yay, I could barely
contain my joy at being woken up for that.

So, after I almost take of Emma the Dog's head by slamming the door,
I took off into some bushes, dogs being dragged behind me. Angus the
Dog takes a whiz immediately. Emma doesn't do anything except for bark
at the rather large and angry looking black man talking on his cell
phone. Yay.

I high-tail it back to the Honda. They ask me if both of the dogs did
their business. I told them that they did, simply because I didn't want
to go back to the bushes and I wanted to go back to sleep. Lucky for
me, Emma and her female bladder lasted all the way until we got to the
Comfort Inn outside of San Antonio.

I was woken up again and asked if I wanted something to eat, knowing
full well that I can't have anything to eat in the car, lest you want
it on the back of your seat later. So I got a small frie and a medium
water from McDonalds. I have no patience for people who say Mickey D's.

I go back to sleep and wake up before we get to the hotel. On the way
there, there are Cartoon Network billboards, featuring Cheese from
Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends and Lazlo from Camp Lazlo. My bros
flipped out when they saw them. Aye, aye, aye.

The hotel sucked. The people staying around us sucked. The only good
part of the hotel was the expansive list of channels it offered. Sadly,
most of it was spent watching CNN or Fox News or CMT or Animal PLanet
or the Food Network. The "playground" was absolutely pathetic, I almost
wish I had photos of it. It was a slide, surrounded by a concrete
fence, in an area no larger than a picnic table, jutting off of the
side of the main building and just beside the pool.

The room sucked, and because my brothers got the bed and my father and
Yeti had control of the thermostat, it was a blistering 40 degrees
every night. Must be hard, being fat.

We brought with us all sorts of breakfast bars, pop tarts, and
Cup-O-noodles. Nobody actually ate the noodles because:

A) The only one who eats them is me
B) I'm not exactly itchin' to put styrofoam cups in the microwave,
the room didn't come with any hard cups, and Yeti was already using
the coffee machine to brew her daily mud to fuel her addiction.

Styrofoam emits all sorts of dangerous things when burned, so I'm told.
God only knows what happens to it when it's bombarded with microwaves.

So I didn't eat any breakfast, not that I would anyway. My bros and
father, however, did. They had waffles shaped like Texas. Say what?
Waffle irons shaped like Texas. Wowie. That almost makes me sad I
didn't go to breakfast. I mean, how often will you get the opportunity
to eat a waffle shaped like Texas? In Texas, no less.

The day we got there, we checked in and were out looking for some place
to eat. What is Texas famous for, other than cowboys and a high
population of gay people in the major cities? That's right, barbecue,
a true American tradition. One medal America can truly wear proudly.
We saw a place on the Travel Channel called Rudy's: The Worst BBQ in
Texas. I don't know why they were so hard on themselves, the one I
went to was great.

All menu items are ordered a la carte and by the pound, including
Pickles and Creamed Corn. They also don't have plates, it's more along
the lines of sheets of wax paper. I decided on having some sausage,
making a brisket sandwich, and sampling some of the ribs. I didn't
eat the creamed corn. Whatever was left after we were done would go to
the dogs. Yes, quite a brilliant idea, giving greasy meat to two small,
incontinent dogs.

I finished the pickle and polished off my bottle of Root Beer and we
left, back to the motel room which would surely be in shambles. And,
wouldn't you know it, I was right. Most of the plastic bottles and
pamphlets we had were ripped to shreads.

I've got to go to bed now. I'll finish the story tommorow. It's 1:33 AM
right now.

Part two:

Continuation of Entry 05, July 16th.

That night, I was deemed the one who had to sleep in the chair. I can't
see how anyone can sleep in a sitting position. I didn't get any winks
that night, as opposed to the forty I prefer. I woke up groggy with my
back killing me. This was the day we went to Sea World.

Sea World was nice, it was pretty high tech. It had a really tall
coaster, though it wasn't as tall as the Millenium Force. It had a
water ski show and Shamu Stadium where the big guy swam. The Great
White tore my back to pieces. It was one of those floorless coasters.
There weren't any straight-aways on it, so you were always twisting and

Sea World also had a water park. Not that I could say much about it,
because I didn't do anything except for lounge in the lazy river. Did
you ever realize that, no matter which park you go to, it's always the
Lazy River and never what its really named. How did the lazy river
first start? Does anyone know? I doubt it. I suppose we'll never find
out and keep calling it the Lazy River. Although, I do know that it's
actually called the Lazy River at the Schlitterbahn in New Braunfels,
Texas. Theirs is actually more of a ride and takes you across the
entire park, dumping you out in a river after a twenty minute trip
through caves and junk.

Every park also has a wave pool, but I don't care about those. I
could just as easily go to the beach.

As soon as we got into the park, we headed to the stables where they
kept the Budweiser Clydesdales. They had a donkey there, too!
It got boring fast, so we left. We went further back to the left side
and ended up in a dead end. There was a place where you could have
breakfast with the sharks. I hope someone gets bitten for that stupid

There was a dolphin tank where, in exchange for food, the dolphins
would swim up to you and let you pet them. Yippie. I don't care much
for dolphins. They're too smart for their own good, just look at
Johnny Mnemonic. Crazy hacker dolphin.

My brother had to take a whiz, we walked back across the park, only
to find out that the rest of the park doesn't open until 10:00. Fast
forward to 10:00. We walk a ways ahead of the crowd towards the roller
coasters an see a guy in a Sea World jump suit blocking off more
people. He says the roller coasters don't open until 11:00. Idiots.

"Metal Health" is on the radio, one of THE single greatest metal songs
ever. "Bang your head! Metal health will drive you mad!"

So we walk directly backwards to the 4-D theater. Apparantly 3
dimensions weren't good enough for this crew. They were showing R.L.
Stine's Haunted Lighthouse. I finally found out what Christopher Lloyd
was doing, some PBS show and this. He played the salty Captain Jack.
And he had a beard. It also starred that woman who played Marty's mom
in Back to the Future. I think her last name is Thompson, but I'm not
sure. It had that guy who played Mr. Green in Clue, too. He's a little
bit harder to see, because he's hiding behind a beard. It's sad because
he's been in many movies and that's the only one I remember him from.

And, making a super special cameo appearance, Wierd Al as the meek
pirate at the end of the film, serving Catfish Suprize that sprays
Captain Jack in the face. Here's a hint, the suprize was that it's
alive. That is SOOOO funny.

So, after the film, we go back and wait for five minutes for that
loser to let people through.

Right around the corner from that is the Steel Eel, a very tall, yellow
steel coaster with numerous drops and hardly any curves. I didn't like
it very much. Oh well, you can't expect everything to be awesome.

That's the problem I had with Disneyworld, the most magical place on
Earth. My expectations were sent so high for it. I mean, come on! It's
friggin Disneyworld, the paradise, the Eden, the Cibola of children
everywhere. How could it not be awesome? Well, I guess it's just
because I'm more of a thrill ride kind of guy. I like the massive
steel coasters and wooden ones. I wear the Son of the Beast as a badge
of pride. I SURVIVED THE BEAST. But no, Disney has none of that, lest
Space Mountain counts. Space Mountain is the ride of Disney. Everything
else is a poor attempt to cash in on other thrill parks, like Six Flags
or King's Island or the ultimate, Cedar Point of Sandusky, Ohio. Why is
it Ohio contains two of the world's greatest theme parks at once?

That's why I'm proud to be from Cinci.

After the Steel Eel, we went down the road a ways and headed back,
towards the sea lions show.

It was set up like an ampetheater, with the set sitting behind a pool
of water. We were to watch the Cannery Road Caper, which is about a
detective and his quest to find the lost Uncle Max, the detective being
a seel and Max being a walrus. It was good, but I should point out that
Uncle Max was a female walrus. Wierd. I guess it was for some reason
along the lines of the fact that females are less aggressive or some-
thing like that. I dunno.

I was starving, but we pressed on to the death machine that was the
Great White. It was a short ride with a peculiarly short wait. It
seemed as though it would be a popular ride, but I guess all of the
thrill seekers went to Six Flags that day. Pah, those losers don't
know what they're missing.

After that, everyone waited in line at the Rio Loco, which is the
"Crazy River", duh. We waited an hour in line with some of the world's
ugliest people to get on a ride less than two minutes long. The whole
thing was sad, and Dana's complaints about the heat were getting to me.
So I decided to mess with her, of course!

I said, "I love the heat, I could sit in the sun ALL DAY LONG. I don't
need a drink either, it feels goooooood."

I could tell from her cold, dead stare that I got the desired reaction.

Hah! I live for moments like this.

So, we go eat at the BBQ Shack placed conveniently outside of the exit
gates for the Rio Loco. In my ever expanding quest to make people mad,
I get a turkey leg, a fairly large one at that. It was the most
delicious thing on Earth, I don't care what those stupid vegetarians
say about how they're treated. I like animals, too... slow roasted.

And, after I'm done eating, (because everyone had to wuss out and get
sausage and brisket, even though turkey is cheaper), we catch our first
glimpse of the crazy italians.

The crazy italians traveled in a pack, about fifteen people. Every
encounter with them usually found them shouting and doing a conga line
through the park with their shirts off. They were happy about
something, I think it was because Italy won the cup. I dunno, I don't
watch that Fussball. I also think all the americans who like it are
wussies and fakers. You're just waiting for Football season in the
Fall, aren't you, America?

Soccer/football is alright. I'm better at it than America's football.
But, given the chance, I would much rather watch my favourite football
team, the Pittsburgh Steelers, than D.C. United.

But whatever. They were happy and I was happy for them.

We trudge over to the water park, because when you go to Sea World,
the best part is the water park, apparently. Not the fact that you get
to see killer whales send people flying through the air. Oh well, they
wanted to go to the wave pool. I should mention that you're not allowed
to change in the stalls, much to the dismay of my bros and I. Changing
clothes has always been private to me, I don't care if I'm frickin'
alone, I will change clothes in the bathroom, alone.

There's nothing worse than seeing a fat naked man whom you don't even
know. It's almost like some sort of molestation. But there was a small
place away in the showers that offered a curtain. I don't know why,
since the rest of the bathroom seemed designed to offer as little
privacy as possible. So I changed into my ill-fitting trunks and
trudged barefoot, (big mistake), over to the lazy river where I spent
most of the two hours in the water park asleep in an intertube.

Is it "innertube" or "intertube" because I pronounce it innertube?,
because I think it's spelt "intertube".

Entry 06, July 18th.

I had a very interesting night last night. It was about five minutes
after dinner, and my father and Dana were talking about something,
whispering while they did it. I was sitting on the couch with my
littlest bro, my oldest playing Playstation in the back of the house.
We were watching White Noise on HBO. It was alright, but not great.

Anyway, I go to get a drink and pass my father and Dana. She starts
yelling about some snowglobe pen got broken and she is L.I.V.I.D.
She says if she doesn't find out who broke it, she's gonna pawn our
Playstation, which is okay for me because I have another back at home.
My eldest bro, however, goes into hysterics because he is like I was
at his age, just marathon sessons of playing games, no matter if he had
beaten them twenty times over. I get tired of them, but he'll keep
playing them.

She said, and I quote, "I'm gonna go buy one goddamn nice Coach purse!"


Something odd happened, though. My father was apparantly possessed by
some mystical force and got up the courage to say boo to the goose.
I'm greatful he intervened, but at the same time, I take it with a
grain of salt. That's because he can comfort you and assure you
everything's going to be alright and you'll believe him, but later
he'll stab you in the back.

He says he's always in the middle, torn between his love for Dana and
his love for us. To be honest, it's more of a tug of war between my
brothers and I and he and Dana. He's caught in the middle, sure, but
we're stuck on the side.

He goes and quiets her down. For some reason, my brother decides to
confess to something he may have done. He says he might have broken the
pen when he dropped it a month ago. Never admit to anything you aren't
sure you did. Period. I know otherwise, because I used the pen ten days
ago and it wasn't broken.

So, after all was said and done, we get grounded until Thursday for
something one of us may have done and refusing to own up to it the
first time she asked. I call BS. My father sits out on the couch with
us for a bit and tells us we're going to have to adjust. So we need to
do what we did last summer and write up a list of things we want in
return for things we'll do and what an appropriate punishment would
be if we didn't do what we said we were going to. What it all amounts
to is the Summer Contract. I wish I could get you a picture of it.
It's this large poster-board with guidelines scrawled on it in various
flavours of marker.

It was sick.

We even had to sign it as if it was an actual contract, binding us to
it for good. If I see another one of them, I'm going to have to see my
lawyer to negotiate better terms. Hah!

Oh well. My terms were that I get a detatchable drive for the laptop
that I could put my stuff on, I.E. Planetside and all sorts of other
programs and PSP related stuff. I also wanted some sort of allowance,
since I don't really leave the house anyway. I wanted a library card.
And lastly, I wanted to go see "District 13" when it comes out in
theaters, it's "Banlieue 13" in France. It's already on DVD, all I'd
have to do would be to go on the French Amazon a buy it there, but
I don't have that kind of region DVD player and, besides, you'd lose
that authentic cinema experience, especially with an action film like
Banlieue 13.

I'll do pretty much anything to get those things. Even mow the lawn,
least favourite of all activities. I don't mow well. Not by choice,
either, so you don't get the wrong idea. I just don't know what's good
enough when looking at a lawn. As long as the grass doesn't reach past
my knees, I'm good. I have low standards.

One thing my father said that will stick with/haunt me forever is

"I guess I'm just looking for direction. And with you, I'll probably
never find any."

End Transmission.

I'd like some feedback, though most of you will probably chalk it up to teenage angst. Oh well. That's what I live with.
Originally Posted by Jixby Phillips View Post
Oh god fathom zero, you are revealing yourself to be completely awful
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Old Jul 21st, 2006, 10:03 PM       
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Old Jul 21st, 2006, 10:54 PM       
[COLOR=purple][COLOR=Magenta]SHAME ON A [COLOR=Pink]NIGGA WHO TRY TO RUN [/COLOR][URL="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVGI6mhfJyA"]GAME[/URL] ON A NIGGA[/COLOR]
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Old Jul 21st, 2006, 10:59 PM       
Dude you need a Livejournal :/

I read up to you talking about arcades, and that made me think of arcades and get distracted, so I couldn't finish... Maybe your dad should treat you more like a person? That's teenage angsty.
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Old Jul 21st, 2006, 11:15 PM       
I guess seeing how you live with you Dad and stepmom makes me kinda thankful that my immediate family gets along well. My stepmom is loving toward us, but at the same time, she knows that there are lines that shouldn't be crossed and just doesn't go there. The badmouthing is almost nonexistant, and everyone shows up to family gatherings without any friction. My Mom pretty much has given up trying to find another man, and I don't really blame her. I remember she dated a music teacher for a while who played the trumpet, and after finding out I played the Horn, he really tried to bond with me. I understand that he was enthusiastic about dating my Mom, but I don't think he understood the term "breathing room". He proposed way too soon, and never saw him again after rejection. I feel bad for him, in a way :/

Anyway, all I can think of right now is that if your grades are as good as you say they are, you can go to anywhere in the country for college. Pick up some scholarships, and hey, maybe one will offer you a full ride. Also, there are programs where you can work for the school as a librarian, cashier, lab assistant, or whatever to pay for part of your tuition. Yes, moving out of the house means you have to take care of yourself and all that crap, but the freedom you gain from it makes it all worth it. If possible, try to stay in a dorm your first year, since it makes the transition to living on your own a lot smoother. It also makes it easier to make friends in that situation.

In the meantime, maybe you could find a job being a librarian in the area you're staying now? It would get you out of the house, for one thing, and the paycheck would come in handy. Plus, you did say you enjoy it...

Anyway, good luck hangin' in there, and yes, high school is just a lotta bullshit.
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Old Jul 22nd, 2006, 12:13 AM       
Well, that's how I feel, be it teenage angst or something else.

What I didn't include in the journal was a massive argument between my stepmother and I with my father sitting wordless beside her.

Her argument was:

I didn't get enough Church in me.
My hair didn't belong to me, it belonged to them.
That they were under the impression that I was being laughed at in school because of the way I dressed, therefore, they took rule over my entire wardrobe and threw unacceptable things out.
I had moral turpitude (I laughed at that one)
I was disrespectful to elders.
And, finally, I treated my dad like an idiot.

I didn't say much, I don't want to give them the satisfaction of
being acknowledged.

I will write a more in depth report when I am back at their house, as I am at my mum's. She has custody every two weeks.

I can't have a live journal, I don't have enough time to use their laptop's internet while they're gone during the day. They don't like it when I use the internet, and I don't want to either. They have multiple "big brother" programs running at any given time in the unlikely event that I do use it without their permission. So I write all this on Notepad, transfer to a floppy, and come back to my mum's to cut and paste. Their laptop didn't come with a floppy drive, in case you were wondering.

She called my brother gay.

I almost flew over the table at her. But I kept my cool. Juvenile Court with Battery charges doesn't exactly reinforce my case against them.

It may be hard on me, but my bros feel twenty times worse because they're to afraid to speak up.

It's also nice to take into account that my Mother and Step-father and my Father and his wife have been fighting for eight years.
Originally Posted by Jixby Phillips View Post
Oh god fathom zero, you are revealing yourself to be completely awful
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Old Jul 22nd, 2006, 11:42 AM       
I had a really good post about how "getting some jesus in you" sounded like a porno but...
What happened to enrty 4?
Originally Posted by Esuohlim View Post

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Old Jul 22nd, 2006, 01:04 PM       
Too long, didn't read. :O
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Old Jul 22nd, 2006, 02:34 PM       
please summarise in two sentences with no more than 4 emoticons
I don't get it. I mean, why did they fuck with the formula? Where are the car songs? There's only one song about surfing and it's a downer!
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Old Jul 22nd, 2006, 04:34 PM       
Originally Posted by MarioRPG
I had a really good post about how "getting some jesus in you" sounded like a porno but...
What happened to enrty 4?
I have no idea. Maybe I was tired at two in the morning, was trying to
edit it, and deleted it instead. Who knows.
Originally Posted by Jixby Phillips View Post
Oh god fathom zero, you are revealing yourself to be completely awful
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Old Jul 22nd, 2006, 09:28 PM       
You're kind of a wimp. Why can't you just crush this woman every time she does something stupid? You could easily ruin her life by challenging her to back up the reasoning behind treating every beverage as a shot of whiskey.
"Quote from some guy I think is funny."
-Some guy I think is funny
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Old Jul 22nd, 2006, 11:15 PM       
Well, at first I thought it was because she wasn't used to children. And she wasn't. Now, I know different. I'm frightened. Not for myself, but for my brothers. They cry and scream in their sleep, and I'm going to flip out. I demanded to talk to the judge that ordered this brilliant move, but they said I wasn't allowed. Fuck that. I'm writing a letter or something. I have her credit card numbers, passwords, all sorts of stuff. I'm gonna put up her email address and make some personal ads on the internet. Get her cell-phone number, etc. I'm a passive aggresive guy, but I'm reaching my boiling point. I'll give it another week before I flip out.

I do demand her reasoning, but she says she doesn't need to give me her reasons.

I'll figure out a plan soon enough. I heard that you shouldn't put cheese on a muffler. Hmph.
Originally Posted by Jixby Phillips View Post
Oh god fathom zero, you are revealing yourself to be completely awful
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Old Jul 30th, 2006, 11:32 PM       
Hey will you tell us if you go crazy on that warus lady? Maybe some pics of her too? For us to photoshop.
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Old Jul 30th, 2006, 11:54 PM       
Fuck. It's sean.

No, I didn't go crazy on the walrus lady and I don't have any pics from Seaworld. I only have one from Six Flags.
Originally Posted by Jixby Phillips View Post
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Old Aug 4th, 2006, 10:22 PM       

Part 3

Journal Entry 06 or 7, I can't remember. July 24, 2006.

I had to leave my mum's house yesterday at six, as usual. My aunt was
there. I can't tell you where she lives, because someone I don't want
reading this probably is. Let's just say, she came down to Lawton for
a short visit. We had fun. I picked up my best pal Ryan up on Saturday
night and we were up till about two in the morning watching the Class
of Nuke'em High Trilogy. I also got the Summer Edition of Heavy Metal.

Very Nice.

I also listened to 104: The Bear for most of the visit. It's the only
classic rock radio within range. I heard this awesome song called
"Shake My Tree" performed by Dave Coverdale and Jimmy Page. That song
was epic, as was Megadeth's "Train of Consequences". Ryan was suprised
when I told him it was Megadeth. He routinely listens to all varieties
of metal, though mostly the Thrash variety. One of his favourites is
Metallica, but I'm more partial to Faith No More and Anthrax. Maybe
some Slayer if I'm in my depressed mode. Thrash metal is better for
when you're depressed and want to feel better because it's so fast.

During the '04 and '04-'05 school years, I listened to nothing but
Pink Floyd and Led Zepplin. Let me tell you, I was depressed after
hearing nothing but that. I used to think I was different because of
it, (though that wasn't why I listened), until I stepped back and
looked at everyone else who was listening to it, also. I didn't want to
be like them. I didn't know what I wanted to be, but not them. Then
I found thrash metal in '05-'06. Thrash Metal, I feel, is forgotten,
because it's not classic, (like the Zepplin or Van Halen), and not
new. You could make the argument that we have Korn, Limp Biskit, and
Linkin Park, not to mention all the other bands who aren't worth
mentioning, but it doesn't sound the same. It's too sanitized and,
apparently, too radio friendly and marketable.

I'm not going to waste your time complaining about record companies and
"the Man" and how they're trying to keep music I like down, because
they aren't. Whatever.

I just saw "Cool World" with Kim Basinger, Gabriel Byrne, and a young
Brad Pitt. I need to look for this one on DVD. A lovely blending of
Live Action and Animation in the vein of Roger Rabbit. The whole
thing is good, especially the art style.

Oh well.

Back to my vacation two weeks ago. Where was I? Oh yes, I was halfway
through Seaworld. Well, after riding all the rides, eating my turkey
leg, and looking through all of the giftshops, it was time to see the
big man himself, Shamu.

He was housed in the "Believe" ampetheater, where all sorts of shows
took place during the day. When night came, it was different. There
was some sort of Shamu Rocks Texas celebration where a black dude came
out in a cowboy hat. He said his name was Bart... just kidding. It was
Tim or something else goofy. It was at this point that I realized how
wild these animals really are. The people in the wetsuits where
throwing down buckets of fish. I thought, if the orcas, (or any other
animal performer in the park), didn't get those fish, they probably
wouldn't cooperate. There wouldn't be any incentive for the animals.
And you can't comprimise with a killer whale.

They played all sorts of music. From Black Eyed Peas to Aerosmith to
ZZ Top to Lynyrd Skynyrd. Some of it was cool. I remember the ZZ Top
tune being a cover, though. Perhaps they couldn't get the right to
use it in a performace of a giant, sea-faring mammal, I don't know.
I don't work for Seaworld. Anyways, there was pyro, water was splahed
on the crowd, and people were flipped into the air. It was a good time.

We left. I was out of the place first because I knew when the show
was over. Every other idiot sat in their seats while they threw water on
the landed animals. I motioned for my family, but apparently they
didn't get the hint and sat there while the stairs out were flooded
with people. Nice.

We get out and have our second encounter with the mad Italians. This
time though, they were shirtless and doing a running conga line and
chanting something illegible. I wanted to rip off my shirt and run
behind them. I should've, in retrospect.

But what's past is past.

We make our way to the exit and get a magnet from the souvenier shop on
the way out. Yay. We exit and the mad Italians are jumping on and off
rocks, screaming and laughing. I almost wanted to yell
"STOP HAVING FUN." :frowns. I didn't. I wouldn't. I'm not a bitter
person and I won't let people make me bitter. I just have to find my
own fun.

I fall asleep in the back of the Honda Pilot, with a blanket I brought
with me because I was the only freezing one in the car. I hate being
cold. Twenty minutes of sleep and I wake up. We were stopped. I was
being poked. I wanted to go to bed. So what do we do? Go to Pizza Hut,
of course. In reality, it was probably 8 or 9, maybe 10 at night, but
outside, it looked like 3 AM. There was nobody out, nor was there
anyone else besides us at Pizza Hut. As soon as we sit down, we get
our drinks ordered. Dana wants a pitcher. I didn't and I wasn't about
to argue on anyone's behalf. So, as per usual, I say nothing.

Server Lady, whom was very nice given the time, politely informed us
that there wasn't a pitcher. Big mistake. Though you couldn't tell
from her voice, you could see in her eyes that Dana was mad. I know
how to read people, though not well. Dana said that was fine. We ended
up getting a pepperoni lovers and a supreme, both pan pizzas, of course.
I ended up eating half of the pepperoni lovers and none of the supreme,
mainly because I don't eat green peppers or black olives.

I can barely remember what happened after that, other than the fact that
we returned to the hotel room and I waited a hour or two in silence
so I could sleep. Sometimes I need to be hypnotized in order to sleep.
Anyone who knows self-hypnosis knows how to do this, how to relax
yourself. I've always had to do that. Even from a young age. I was
never exhausted enough to sleep. I was very much a night person. It's
1:19 AM Central Time. If I went to bed right now, I'd be staring at the
wall until 3 in the morning.

It didn't help that the air conditioner was on full blast, either.

We went into San Antonio the next day. I'll write about that later
today, after the sun rises and certainly after noon.

Journal Entry 8, July 27th, 2006. A Thursday.

I can't sleep.

It's 4:41 AM. My father should be getting up for work soon. I'm
waiting for Sony's newest PSP update. I'm not going to upgrade the
firmware, yet. I'll still download it. Maybe somebody will find a hole
in 2.8's security before 2.7 or 2.71. Who knows.

I just got finished watching "The Trilogy of Terror II". It's a
1990's sequal to another movie made in the late seventies. It has,
quite possibly, some of the worst production values I've ever seen in
a movie. Great B-Movie. The most famous person in the movie I could
find was the Irishman who played the Bank Manager in Maverick. You
know, the manager of the bank that got blown up by Danny Glover.
Yeah, that guy. He plays a grave-robber who gets a crowbar to the face
and bleeds out orange blood while the guy in the coffin he's robbing
gets carried away by a few oversized rubber rats with large teeth.

Any semblance of stardom ends there. All of the props look like they
were purchased at a Holloween shop, as do all of the masks. The
lighting was inadequate and the acting was over-reactive.


On Monday, the same day I was finishing my SeaWorld story, I went to
the library on post, Ft. Sill. I'm going to be volunteering there.
I wanted to check out Cell and The Dark Tower VII, as well as a book
on making LED Displays. I couldn't. It turns out, lo and behold, that
my father nor his wife had signed me up. So I couldn't check out any
books nor could I volunteer without knowing the phone number, address,
or having someone there to vouch for me. So I went home.

Not that home, to my mum's. She lives only a little ways from the
library. So I stopped by and got some books from my personal collection
and returned to the library. Then I went back and came back to where
I'm sitting right now.

I'm still not done wrapping up my trip to San Antonio. I'm only 1/3 of
the way done. I still have to cover going to the Alamo and Six Flags,
which, I might add, is much more enjoyable than SeaWorld.

Journal Entry 9, the same day, (except at 7:07 PM)

Yesterday, I tried to watch Serenity. It was a good sci-fi flick and it
made me wish I could have seen Firefly. I saw it, up until the last
twenty minutes. I had to change the channel because Dana wanted to
watch the news. The local news, not even the national. Let me clue
you in on something, and this is to those who don't live in small towns
in the midwest. There is no news in Oklahoma. Except for the past few
days when there have been elections. Most of the news on TV could just
as easily be found on a bulletin board at a bus stop.

What was on the news was up to the minute coverage on the elections and
assorted brush fires around the Texoma area. Yippie. Riveting stories,
guys. Whatever. I don't have the strength to argue any more.

I saw on the Sci-fi Channel the promo for Garth Marenghi's show. It
looks promising. I can safely say that what little televvision I watch
will be spent on the Sci-fi channel watching either this show or
EurEka. It looks really good so far, but I fear that it won't get the
ratings it deserves and will meet a premature end. Best to enjoy it
while I can, eh?

Lately, I've been reading more than usual. It's probably because I want
to escape the world I'm in right now and jump into one that's more
interesting. I'm mostly reading John Grisham. I just finished The
Chamber and I'm working on The Last Juror. I've also finsished Baal by
Robert McCammon and The Hanged Man's Song by John Sandford. As I've
said before, I'm trying to get Cell and The Dark Tower VII but I've
been unsuccessful.

Later tonight, when I have access to internet, I'm going to see what
the buzz is on the new PSP update. I hope it's promising.

I feel uninspired. Usually, I'm just a fountain of imagination, but
lately I've been feeling as if my head was in a vice. I feel sock. I
think it's because of stress. My brother's doc says that's how cold
sores can show up, too. That'd explain a lot.

Haha. I just thought about something funny. My mum hates it when people
use "too" instead of using the proper "also". Ha.

I can't wait till school starts. It still seems years away, though. I'm
taken English 2, Botany, whatever the Social Studies/History class is,
Computer Programming (which counts as a Math credit), Keyboarding for
half a semester (even though I already know how, don't tell LHS), and
Keyboarding 2 or whatever it's called for half a semester. I'm also
taking another class which I can't remember right now.

LHS is having it's cafeteria added onto because of the influx of
students after many of the other military bases in the US closed. A lot
of soldiers came to Ft. Sill, Home of the Field Artillery, King of
Battle. I hope I don't have to sit in the cafeteria. It's too noisy.
I can't have noise when I'm eating. Well, I can, however it's very

I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. I think I'm being
melodramatic. I'm still leaning towards "Licensed Pyrotechnician",
although that'd mean quite a bit of chemistry I'd have to learn.

Perhaps "Film Maker" would suit me well. I had taken Drama for two
years and speech and debate each for one. It was the closest thing
I could find to film in school. I always wanted to be behind the
camera, never in front. I could if I wanted to, but I don't.
Maybe I could be a "Cinematographer". Yes, a nice lengthy title always
indicates importance, right?

I dunno.

What I am told to do is enjoy the life I have right now to the fullest,
while I still can. I intend to do that. I'm not going to muck up my
childhood just so I can be sucessful later in life. From what I hear,
a bad childhood comes back to haunt you. That's why I'm so laid back in
the face of oppression. I cringe every time I see all of those bitter
straight-A students. They're mean, unhappy, and VINDICTIVE people.
They're probably that way because their daddy never hugged them. My
daddy wants to hug me, but I don't want a hug. There's a difference.

I can safely say that I'd rather be in the entertainment industry
rather than any other. I like to make people happy, sometimes at a cost
to me. I'l go any length to make sure everyone's alright. That's what
makes me happy. And if I could do that through the magic of film, well
that makes it all the better.

Maybe I could be a writer.

Hell, I could be an astronaut if I was motivated. One thing I was
toying with is being a Pilot. HAHA. Could you imagine, me being a
pilot. Flying has always amazed me. I've never been scared of flying.

One thing that does scare me to death, though, is roller coasters.
It's wierd because I love roller coasters. I'm always scared waiting in
line for a ride. But when I get off, it's just a feeling of total
underwhelm-ment. I think I expect too much, that's why I'm so jaded.
I need to lower my standards and realize that nothing on Earth can be
a quarter as good as it appears to be, that oftentimes things are
lesser than the sum of it's parts, that the world is generally
mediocre and people are just blowing things out of proportion.

I guess I'm just looking too far into my own future. I should just do
want I want to do each year without any thought to the future. When
I get to the end, I'll look at what I've done and only then shall I
determine what I want to do. Anyway, that's the plan I have now. I
guess I'll stick by it until something makes me do otherwise.

Journal Entry 10. July 28th, 2006. Friday. 3:40 AM.

I was watching Spike TV a few hours ago and saw their promo for
the Beer Goggle Theater or whatever it's called. It's supposed to be on
at 2 AM Saturday Morning. It looked mostly of Andy Sidaris films, and
although they didn't tell you they were his, the promo reeks of him.
So I'll be watching it.

During the last half hour, I've been watching Dennis Miller. The most
I could say of it was that it was completely average and I want to
watch Real Time with Bill Maher again.

So now I'm watching Bullitt.

There are very few actors that stand out amongst all others and stand
the test of time. Actors like John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Donald
Sutherland, Henry Fonda, etc. But when you think about some of the
movie's greatest, you have to include the Master of Chase, Steve
McQueen. Nothing quite showcases his performances like in The Great
Escape and Bullitt.

In addition to al the other things on my wishlist, I'll have to get the
Steve McQueen box set. Sadly, though, it doesn't include the Blob.

Oh well. I'm tired and mainly surviving off of Potato Chips and
listening to Metallica and Megadeth in the wee hours of the morning.
I was never a daytime person, anyway. The night is when everything's
quiet, more focused. That's my element.

Right now I'm listening to "Fuel". It doesn't get any heavier than
that, baby. Burning hard, smooth, and clean. Hehe.

Anyways, I didn't upgrade my PSP. It turns out that it wasn't a soccer
demo that I know of. It looks like it's some puzzle game. I still
downloaded it, though, for safe-keeping in case they decide to alter
it for some reason or if someone finds a security hole. Right now,
though, I'm just counting on those more intelligent than I to
create some sort of downgrader for Firmware 2.71. I've already made the
mistake of upgrading twice, there's no need to do it again.

There's no reason to, either. I mean, you can play every game on the
PSP through a homebrew or a loader of some kind. I don't know why
people update. Maybe it's because of the free downloads Sony offers.
Well, so far, the only one I'd be looking forward to would be Loco Roco
and that's stretching it. The one game I want more than any other
would have to be Valkyrie Profile: Lenneth. It looks amazing, and
rather affordable considering it's PS1 Brother can sometimes fetch up
to $200.00 on eBay and Amazon.

So, I'm saving up cash. I have $5.80. I need forty. Perhaps I'll mow
lawns. Hell, I've never had that much money. I don't know what money is
worth. I could probably undersell any one else mowing by at least $15.
HAHA. That'd be awesome. But first thing's first: I need to volunteer
at the library on post. Now, it is a test of my will. My will to make
something of myself and get out of this miserable place. That may mean
less journal entries and I know how much you people just LOVE to read
them. Oh well. I'm not writing them for you anyway.

Maybe I should write a story, some epic tome about some universe far
away, (or maybe not so far away). Then I could market it. But that's
not the way to think. You don't write a story to make money. You write
it because you were the one destined to bring that story to the masses.
You write because you enjoy writing, not because there's no other

Oh well. I'm going to try and catch at least a few of the forty winks.
G'night, all.

Journal Entry 11. July 29th, 2006. 3:54 AM. A Saturday.

I found out something funny this afternoon. The 2.8 Firmware Update for
the PSP has already been debugged and dumped. Most of the files inside
the EBOOT have been revealed, but, as I recall, the one key file in the
EBOOT remains locked and needs an encryption key. I'm glad I downloaded
the update, now. I'd imagine that someone'll find a hole and exploit it
soon. I'd help, but I'm mostly into hardware hacks and mods. I like
to build and solder things. Hehe. That doesn't mean I'm good at it, so
don't assume I can help with any of you questions. I'm still learning
and I'm not much of an artist. I'd much rather write things.

Soon, I'll be able to downgrade my PSP. Or I could do one better and
buy the modchip and installation for a cool $200. That may not seem
like much to everyone else, but I don't come by money easily. I've
already said that before, but I feel the need to place emphasis.

I think I'll go that route. But, the most likely scenario is that I'll
be waiting until Christmas for either my mother or father to pay for
it. They do give a warranty, a month or so. And they should, too,
because soldered points are notorious for coming loose when being
jostled around like in, say, a PSP in someone's pocket or hands.

Oh well. Right now, I'll be content with my Heavy Metal UMD and a few
other gadgets and doodads I've found for it.

I love Heavy Metal. Probably because it's one of the few things I can
afford. Hehe.

I plan to back order a few of the special issues like the F.A.K.K.
movie special featuring a demo for the game and the soundtrack from
the movie. Maybe I'll get a few posters, too, like the Interstellar

I've been playing Grand Theft Auto andeating Frosted Flakes all day
and I cannot sleep a wink in my current condition of wired-ness.
Grand Theft Auto is the greatest boredom tranquilizer. It's got all the
trimmings of a classic: A brilliant soundtrack, Depth of Gameplay,
unforgettable characters, and a story line that is amazingly crafted.
It's not hard to see that Rockstar Games has honed their flagship
franchise to a beautiful diamond. I'm waiting for a Max Payne 3 or a
Max Payne for the PSP, but I'm not going to hold my breath on that one.

I made lemonade today. From frozen concentrate, of course. I usually
make it at 11 PM and finish it before 4 AM. This time, I resisted my
urge and took only a 1/2 glass full.

I think I'm going to start making some LED Throwies with my friend Ryan.
There's nothing more fun than tossing some throwies at passing cars or
at street signs. I'll gather the supplies later. Right now, I'll
probably go to sleep and wake up at 3 and eat something, after which
I'll probably finish off The Last Juror.

G'Night, all. Long days and pleasent nights.


Journal Entry 12. July 29, 2006. The same Saturday at 11:21 PM.

I decided to turn in early because I was harrassed this afternoon on my
skeeping patterns, which are completely regular. They said it was awful
that I sleep that late and tommorow we'd be cleaning up the house. My
father said that I'd also be going to church. Yay. That thrills me to
no end, as you can tell. Oh well. I'm not complaining. Worse things can

I'm quite close to finishing The Last Juror and I need to go to the
library Monday and get me some books.

I found a dime today. That makes $6.05, now. Oh well. It's a steady
increase in funds with no effort put forth on my part. Haha. There's
gotta be a better way.

My father gave me a bunch of papers on how to find Teen Employment.
Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'll mow lawns when I think the time is
right and when the moment strikes me. I feel horrible right now. My
legs hurt and I don't want to leave the bed. I do, but I'd rather be
there than anywhere else.

I know what I need to do. I need to fix my numerous computers and
laptops back at my mum's. I have two laptops and four towers, all of
which are next to unusable. I have to fix them, reformat nearly all of
them. It's going to be a pain in the ass and I'm going to rearrange
my room, but I'm going to do it. Perhaps I'll just pull out thins hard
drive I'm using right now, and maybe the CD Burner in the tower
sitting next to it. Yeah. It has to work, I don't have a lot of cash.
I'll have to get someone to manually reformat the computer next to this
one because it won't let me do it.

I'm going to go try now and see if I can't reformat this other drive.


Journal Entry 13. July 31st, 2006. 3:40 AM. A Monday.

What am I listening to? Public Enemy, of course. Terminator X Speaks
With His Hands, to be exact. Before that, Terminator X to The Edge of

I've been busy tonight.

I've mainly been downloading Planetside onto the laptop's massive 90
Gig hard drive. They won't miss the 3.8 Gigs it takes up. HAHA.

Right now, I'm just wishing I could go to Defcon 14. That'd be awesome.
I could hear the voices of my idols and legends. Groovy. Cons are
always fun, too. Sadly, I don't have a hundred bucks for a badge or
money for a ticket to Las Vegas. Even then, I dunno if they'd allow
me in there or not. Oh well, I'd rather dream about something like
that, anyways.

I downloaded Scatterchat from Hacktivismo and put it on my PSP's hard
drive. If only I could run it on PSP. Alas, my PSP is version 2.71 as
I have stated before and I wouldn't know how to program something like
that, anyway. Maybe I could learn Lua or C in my spare time during the
school year.

The other thing I was looking at was changing the boot screen on all of
my computers. It'd be easier if they all had internet access, because
then I could download the necessary utilities. But, right now, I have
to find the driver that gets Win 98 to recognize the PSP as a "Mass
Storage Device" in order to use it to transfer files, albeit slowly,
from one computer to another.

I feel at home on a keyboard.

I can type way, way, way, way, way, way, faster on a keyboard than I
could write on a piece of paper with a pen or pencil.

I want to open a website and just write. Always writing. I could write
all day, with the proper inspiration. I could write anything. There's
always that great feeling of satisfaction you get when you complete a
piece of written work, like this Journal, for instance. At the
beginning, I was unsure that I'd make it through two journal entries
before losing my intrest. Now I'm on number 13, the lucky number. I
hope to write many more, though I don't give a damn if nobody reads

I write because it's a bit safer than explosives. But fire is
beautiful. I know full well that that sounds pyro of me, but I don't
care. Fire is beautiful, though dangerous. So Beautiful, So Dangerous.
HAHA. I'm not going to start any fires or blow up anything. However, if
I found some safe way of destroying junk, I'd be all in.

I'd rather steer clear from that corner of my head, if you don't mind.
I have bad experiences with fire. I've fallen into one or two while
camping and some kid lit a box on fire long ago.

Don't look at me like that. Those are deep-seeded emotional issues I
need to work on. They're just memories long forgotten until I forceably
dredged them up. The falling in the fire was pretty funny in the end,
though, because both I and my clothes turned out okay in the end.

I finished The Last Juror and put it in it's permanent slot on
my book shelf. It was thoroughly enjoyable and the ending was very
satisfying. Now, I've moved onto The Fourth Estate by Jeffrey Archer.
It's very good so far, (page 31), and I'll be reading it for a while,
(742 Pages).

I should mention that I socked my brother in the side of the face.
Whoever started the argument is irrelevent, (though it was probably me),
he tried to bite me, I tried to bite him back, he was pulling my hair
and choking me, I punched him. I should also mention that I didn't
punch him as hard as I could have and that we have these sort of
tiffs with regularity. Whatever. At the end of the day, we're both
bros and I'd still take a bullet or more for either of them.

I should really get started on the Alamo and Six Flags stories, now.
I'l be forgetting them soon if I don't.

Let's see. We went back to the hotel from Pizza Hut and I fell asleep
on the bed. Nothing could move me from my catatonic state as long as I
was lying on my gut and my right side of my face was on that pillow.
I didn't need that rat's nest of a blanket that my eldest brother was

He needs thin blankets. I sleep under heavy comforters and many of them
because I don't think my blood carries heat well. I think there's
something called Reynaud's Syndrome and I have it. My mother and
at least one of my aunts, (her sister), has it as well. It makes
your extremities feel cold and get a burning sensation, sometimes
severely. It can also make extremities like your finger and toes look
red or even purple, as if they aren't getting enough oxygen. I think
that's what happens. As a result of all this, my hands and feet feel
like ice cubes. I NEED HEAT.

Even my need of heat wasn't enough to make me reach for that blanket,
though. I'd rather be frozen for three nights than have some sort of
STD at the end of all this. They don't wash the blankets, only the
sheets. I found blood once. I knew it was blood, because it was brown
and really stained into the fabric. Ketchup usually leaves a layer
of residue, similar to pudding skin, when it dries up, so I knew I
could rule that out. Besides, who'd eat over an open sheet, anyway?

I was assigned ice bucket detail, (I hate you, Irony). I took my bro
along so he could vouch for me when I found the inevitable non-working
ice machine. We walk out hang a right and travel along the doors. We're
outside and there are a bunch of soda machines along with a sign
pointing us toward the direction of the ice machines.

We get to where the ice machines are located to find... nothing.
We go to another area of the hotel where there are ice machines,
none there either. We look over every inch of the hotel and find not
one ice machine, not even a broken one. The mexican housekeeper wasn't
helpful, either. We just gave up and walked back to the room where
I told everyone to just put their crap in the fridge 'cause I was tired
of looking and I needed sleep.

Flash to 8 AM. I am asleep. Or, rather, in some sort of trance between
this reality and the dreamworld. Either way, I was not to be bothered.
I was poken in the ear and asked if I wanted waffles, like I was asked
every other day. I give you three guesses as to what I said, but I
think you'll only need one. i went back to bed for another hour and
turned the air conditioning off. Ahhh... the heat. It felt good, as
if I was slipping into a warm bath.

It's 4:30 right now, as I am writing.

I got one uninterupted hour of sleep before we took of in the Pilot
towards San Antone, me lying sideways, unsafely in the backseat.


The parking garage just happened to be on the third floor of the mall
in San Antonio, the one you can get to from the riverwalk. We went in,
as there wasn't much choice and they needed air conditioning. My
father, being the football fan that he is, made a beeline for the
Official Dallas Cowboys Merchandise Shop. They have everything you
could ever want if you were a fan. Lamps, jerseys, bikinis, dvds,
video game console controllers emblazoned with a blue star with silver
trim, everything.

So we left rather quickly, knowing that if we spent a moment longer
we'd probably buy some hunk of junk.

And we went into some Texas Giftshop.

I didn't like this shop becaus ethey had three stuffed armadillos posing
in all sorts of kooky positions, like the one with a holster, cowboy hat,
and boots or the one lying in what could best be described as a prone
position with a mock beer bottle in its sad, little hands.

We leave that shop, I being the first out because a church group on
vacation had just taken over the place. Later it turned out that there
was some sort of Methodist convention that week, thus all of the
religious groups we saw at the various parks and around town.

We then went down the escalator, regretfully past the EB Games, and
toward the movie theater, though we all knew full well that we
wouldn't be seeing any movie. We go down another escalator and into
Flags of the World. Why? Who the fuck knows? All I know is that my
father and Dana saw something in this place that said, "BUY ME".

I made my way over to the sports section and gave a once-over to the
Steelers junk. A couple of mugs. Sad, but true. Anyway, I was ready to
get out of there the moment I saw it while coming down the escalator.
I tell my father I was going to be at the Suncoast across from Flags.
He says alright and that they'd catch up in a minute.

I was in Heaven. They had every sort of movie and movie related crap
you could ever wish for. I got my Reservoir Dogs poster at Suncoast
years ago and a few DVDs. B-Movies, no less. Sadly, they closed down
the Suncoast after a few months in Lawton due to the lack of customer
traffic it was getting. They already had a Sam Goody in the mall, I
guess they didn't think they needed a Suncoast. Bullshit. I need
Suncoast. Haha.

Part 4:

Continuing from Journal Entry 13 at 4: 51 AM, July 31st.

Oh well. I guess that's the way the cookie crumbles.

Anyway, I'm traveling through the racks looking for something
interesting. I saw The Seven Year Itch, every Batman movie in one
collection, and Beevis and Butthead DVDs. It'd be nice if I had money,
but you have to work with what you got. I had nothing and I was
working with it. If I had the six bucks I have now, I'd probably
get Hard Rock Zombies and the other two movies it came with.

But it's important not to dwell on things like that. So I left, at
the urging of my father, who was at the urging of his wife. Haha.
We go up an escalator and pass a cool magic shop which I wanted to see
bad, but never voiced my opinion. It'd be an exercise in futility.
When you live in a place like this, the less you say, the better.
I think I borrowed that unintentionally from Better Off Dead, but I
think it accurately describes my feelings.

Anyway, I've got to get to bed, or at least slow myself down to where
I don't use much energy. I'm going to wrap myself up in blankets and
read The Fourth Estate until dawn.

G'night, ya'll. Two apostrophies, one sentence. Haha.

Journal Entry 14. July 31st, still Monday. 5:34 PM.

I am very proud to say that this has been one of the most inactive days
of my entire life. I've done nothing but sleep all day and read The
Fourth Estate. I feel sick. And I feel tired. And I want to go home.
But we can't have everything we want, now can we? I hate it when people
say that. I believe you can get anything if you want it hard enough
and you have the will to match.

I'm bored.

I'm listening to the local news -which really isn't local because it
covers two different states and multiple counties- and I hear that
a teenager has been formally charged in the murder of a man trying to
buy drugs in a botched robbery attempt. What is this world coming to?
I've given up trying to make sense of stuff like this. I push it off
to the side, realizing that there's nothing I can do about and I'm
probably the same as they are.

I'm going to shop on RottenCotton.com for my school wardrobe. I love
all of the old movies, as well as the Signature Series where they have
the shirts signed by the likes of Gunnar Hansen and Tom Savini. Very
stylish and something that'll set me apart from all of the other
morbid creatures hanging around the hallways of my school with their
dyed hair and stories of their latest suicide attempt.

I saw one kid, though he wasn't really one of them, swallow a bottle of
Tylenol. Lucky for him, the bottle didn't even have six capsules inside
it. I don't recall having ever seen him again. Then there's my friend
Stephen who pulled his pants down and was seen by a teacher/counselor/
whatever and got a stern talking to. Haha.

I hang with wierd people. But, then again, they're the ones who have
mindsets closest to mine. But they have no imagination, no will to
enjoy life. They appear as if they've given up on things like that.
Oh well. I'll just hang out with Ryan and bring my stereo pumping out
Metallica or Megadeth or Van Halen.

Despite my urgings, he still doesn't want to go "Ham Bowling" with me
in Wal Mart. That's exactly what I'm talking about with these people,
you can talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?

I've done many things that people like them would never do. Yet they're
so pompous about some miniscule feat they've performed on their
skateboards. God, do I hate skateboards.

Ryan skateboards. I don't care much, I'll just follow him around until
we find something interesting to do, like if we see something cool in a
dumpster. I am not above dumpster diving, I have a pair of hockey
sticks now. Haha. Oh well. Tommorrow's Tuesday, meaning I need to watch
EurEka. Then Wednesday means Nightmares and Dreamscapes. Nothing happens
to look forward to on Thursday, but on Friday I go back to my mum's.
Maybe I can try out this new Scatterchat with Ryan. It offers support
over any messenger, like Yahoo, or AOL, or ICQ, or MSN, and all the
other three lettered acronyms.

I have a feeling that I'll be able to get Planetsid eot work this
weekend, too, so I'll be sure to do that.

Oh well. I'll probably read The Fourth Estate until dinner and probably
post on I-Mockery.net and HideoutHeretics.net until I write in my journal
tommorrow in the wee hours of the morning. So, I bid you farewell.

Journal Entry 15. August 1st, 2006. Tuesday morning at 5:57 AM.

I spent most of the night looking at various hacking and modding
sites and came across a very, very, vey, very inexpensive LAN card on
eBay for a little over $10 and a little under $20. I believe it
was a Lucent WaveLAN ORiNOCO IEEE Bronze, Silver, and Gold cards. They
work with Apples Airport and pretty much any wireless router. I was
wanting to put it into my currently non-functional Panasonic Toughbook
after I got it fixed, something which I've been meaning to do for
three years.

Then I got the thought, why not just get a new (used) one? So I also
looked up Panasonic Toughbook on eBay and it came up with everything
from their first Toughbook to the latest tablet mobile PCs, which is
really what they are, mobile desktops. Toss in an AC adapter, and
extra battery, and a 40 Gig hard drive, it it all amounts to a little
over $100. Not bad. I'm not taking into account S&H, but whatever.
I'll figure it out.

I hear that Reader's Digest pays $300 for any original joke you send
them and $100 for any you've heard before. Of course, they have to use
the jokes before you get the money. That's not really a problem for
me, I'm a regular laugh factory, can't you tell.

All I need is about $200 bucks to amass everything and refurbish a
rather lovely laptop. Toughbooks are very sturdy, hense the name. My
brothers broke a piece off from where the AC adapter attaches to the
back of the computer so it can charge the battery. I either need to
get a new one or find a battery dock. Personally, I'd rather get a
new one.

How does one get $200 dollars fairly quickly. I can't babysit. I hate
children, actually. Perhaps I just have some mortal fear of them. I
will mow lawns. I have to. There's no other way. I think the lawnmower
works. I'll have to see this weekend. I NEED MONEY. I think I'll
set up a lemonade stand, if all else fails.

What am I to do? It's 6:11 AM and I'm feeling completely unmotivated.
Maybe when I have written enough, I could market this journal. HAHA.
That'd be the most ironic thing ever if it happened. Maybe I'll
find an unidentifiable wallet with a hundred bucks in it. Hell, maybe
I could just gut these computers and sell what's inside. They were both
given to me and only one's usable.

I'm bored. Maybe I'll just let my imagination run away with me and write
a story so beautiful that the world will finally lay down it's arms and
cast away its differences while singing songs of peace and joy. You'll
be able to hear them singing, even in your neighborhood. Such emotion
flowing through the air, feeling like electricity arcing across the
cities. Messages of love travelling across the winds reaching everybody.
The temperature would be a wonderful 75 degrees all year round.

HAHA. A boy can dream, can't he? 'Tis beautiful imagery, but nothing
more. It isn't practical. It can't really be put to use. I'm going to
bed, I'm damn tired. I'm going to wake up, make a grilled cheese sandwich
with some chicken wings, go to see my therapist Jana Brewer, watch EurEka,
and go to bed. Simple enough, though anything could become very
complicated at any time. Like, say the non-stick pan was dirty and I
try to cook in a pan without the teflon. BIg mistake. My fingers are
now burned and I'm waiting for the inevitable blisters to arrive.

G' night.

Journal Entry 16. August 2nd, 2006. Wednesday. 1:41 AM.

I saw a lot of REEEEEEEAAAALLLLYYY old Toshiba laptops on eBay. Twelve
of them. For thirty bucks. I was joking around with my father and told
him I could give one to all of my friends. I still think I'm going to
get one of those Toughbooks, though. They look really nice.

I actual am 100% positive about a way to make money now. I'm gonna make
LED throwies and sell them to people in my neighborhood and around
school when it starts. They're very cheap to make and you could make
many in a short amount of time. I think I'll charge ninety cents per
throwie. Eight bucks for ten. HAHA. It's really easy and kids love them,
teens love them, adults love them. They're LED light that stick to any
ferromagnetic (I think that's the word) material and last up to 2 weeks
on the battery it has, which is replaceable with new batteries.

I love it. Everyone will want one. I'm stoked about this whole thing.

I am positively shaking with the excitement at the prospect of doing
something I love and getting paid for it. Of course, it'll be a while
before I can order the parts from the internet. Some of the things I
can find anywhere, like tape and such. But the LEDS, batteries in bulk,
and rare-Earth magnets would have to be purchased online.

I can already see the lockers in the hallway of LHS flooded with
throwies. HAHA. What a sight to see.

Oh boy. I have a lot I want to do. I saw a Panasonic Toughbook laptop
for 1 penny on eBay with 15 hours to go. Maybe if I wake up early
enough, I could persuade my Father to order it. I have a quarter, and
there was no shipping. It was perfect, though missing a battery. It
wasn't being sold for parts, either. I can hope, no?

I saw EurEka and it was a good episode, quickly becoming my favourite
show on television.

I feel alright. I'm just really bored. I can't get out of this blasted
house. I'll call Ryan tommorrow and ask if I can come over to his
place after I'm done with my appointment with Jana Brewer. That sounds
like a plan.

G' night.

Journal Entry 17. August 4th, 2006. Friday. 12:51 PM.

I leave to my mum's for the weekend in about five hours. I feel good.

Most of my time has been spent on the internet. I played Magiknights
until 12 AM. I quit because MMORPGs are addictive. So I was fooling
around on Hackaday.com to see if anything looked interesting. That's
when I came upon the HP Jornada, a handheld PC. Don't let the title
fool you, HP Jornadas are basically laptops you can fit in your pocket.
Let's take Jornada 720, for example. It has a touchscreen. It has
one of those PCI-whatsits card slots on the side, a compact-flash memory
card slot, it's dock has a USB slot that can link to your computer via
its serial cable.

As to it's dimensions, imagine a checkbook for the visually impaired,
larger than a normal checkbook, but still recognizeable as a checkbook.
That should give you an idea of the screen size and resolution. I don't
have the exact numbers in front of me, but the keyboard is huge. 76%
the size of the original Qwerty Keyboard. It runs on Microsoft CE,
basically Microsoft for Pocket PCs. The best part is that it can run
Linux, as can a lot of Pocket PCs now. I'm still trying to learn Linux,
so an inexpensive, not so powerful machine to tinker with would be a
great asset to me.

I plan on putting a Agere ORiNOCO Classic Gold Card in it to connect
to the internet. You can surf the net, play "decent" games, (like Doom
or Quake), play music, or even watch movies with a third party program.
Keep in mind, it's still a handheld. It's not like it's a laptop.

It can do anything, I swear it. I hear it doesn't run Flash well. It's
not like I care. I hate Flash. My bros are in love with it.

So, with all of these features, you'd expect it to cost a bajillion
dollars, right? WRONG. You could probably find one for about fifty bucks.
Some even come with free wireless cards and docking stations. I think
I'll be getting one of these, then a Toughbook.

I'm very sure that I could use it in class to transcribe stuff,
especially with the touch-screen and stylus. I could draw diagrams, too.
I hear it's good to touchtype with, also. That comes in handy with me,
I tend to type really fast. Whew.

Oh well. That's just another piece of junk to put on the wishlist.
I have a feeling I'll be getting that after the X-Box 360. I should be
getting it any day now. My mum says we have to wait it out a bit, she
hasn't lied to me yet... that I know of. Oh well, HAHA. I'm joking.

I saw a movie at six AM with Michael Douglas called The Star Chamber.
It came on after Blacktop with Meat Loaf Aday and that Lochlyn guy that's
in so many movies. I liked The Star Chamber.

For those who are unfamiliar, The Star Chamber casts Michael Douglas as
a judge. Every day, he lets murderers go free because of technicalities
and infractions beyond his control and it's driving him up the wall. He
goes to his mentor after two men get away with raping and killing a boy.
The mentor invites him to sit on a special panel, like a Supreme Court.
They judge whenever a person gets acquitted due to a technicality or
all of the witnesses are dead or the stenographer fucks up and writes
in short hand no one could read but him, then he dies. They sentence
a person, out of court, based on the evidence and the gravity of the
crimes and deem a person to walk free or to die. If the party is guilty,
they offer justice where our courts cannot and hire a hitman to assassinate
the criminal.

It's a very riviting movie.

Oh well. I'm very tired and I think I'll just read The Fourth Estate
until 6, in 3 hours and 42 minutes.

G' Day. Here's to hoping I find a $50 bill so I can get that HP Jornada.
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Old Aug 4th, 2006, 11:09 PM       
You still have a long way to go before catching up to Pub Lover, who was the inspiration for the A Child Called It series.

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Old Aug 5th, 2006, 07:03 PM       
I had a very happy childhood.
Originally Posted by Dr. Boogie
No YouTube embeds in your sigs, poindexter.
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Old Aug 5th, 2006, 08:31 PM       
fathom? you sound like a spoiled baby

you have all this shit and absolutely no responsibility and you're boo-hooing about being dragged on a pretty nice sounding vacation.

here's an idea: you want some money? GET A JOB.
porn is just babies as work-in-progress
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Old Aug 5th, 2006, 08:54 PM       
This thread makes me so angry on so many levels, and not any of them are sympathetic to your case, fathom.
I sell fire in Hell.
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Old Aug 5th, 2006, 10:03 PM       
Originally Posted by glowbelly
fathom? you sound like a spoiled baby

you have all this shit and absolutely no responsibility and you're boo-hooing about being dragged on a pretty nice sounding vacation.

here's an idea: you want some money? GET A JOB.
I know. I'm afraid of people. I don't like theme parks and I don't think that you get what being on vacation with my father and stepmother means, you haven't been on one of them before. I guess I'm most mad at the general indifference on my father's part towards being ridiculed by my stepmother.

As to me being spoiled, ehh you're probably right. I have a lot of crap. Most of my DVDs I've bought myself, as well as a few articles of clothing and pieces of art for my room. A lot of what I have was free, like my computers. They're all used and they come from my grandfather's workplace. They threw them out when they had to upgrade or whatever and my grandfather thought it'd be nice to save some since they were perfectly usable.

My television is secondhand, something heavy fell on the back of the TV, though it was still usable, and got a big-screen. My bed, a futon, is secondhand. I have a gunsafe in the corner of my room, (minus the firearms), with a broken off door that belonged to my stepfather.

I collect signs and crap to put on my walls, most of which are obtained by dumpster diving.

I'm cheap as hell, and if I'm spoiled, sobeit. I don't care, that's just what I am. I'm still thinking about asking for a job at the movie theater. I'm interested in that. I will call them and see if they have something for me.

The main problem is that I am shy and a procrastinator. I wouldn't like to think I was lazy. Oh well. Right now, I just want to have fun for the next ten days, the rest of my Summer here in Lawton before school starts. I intend to spend that with my friends and family doing what is most entertaining. When school starts, however, it's gonna be business.

I need to work on my organizational skills.
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Old Aug 5th, 2006, 11:22 PM       

a person who is afraid of people wouldn't post their private journal on a message board.

all i see is a normal teenager dealing with normal every day life by blowing everything way out of proportion.

count your blessings. you have a father who seems to care about you, a step-mom who seems to be trying (even if she is failing in your eyes) and a mother who loves you.

i don't care about how thrifty you are. be thankful that you even have a tv. if i was your step-mom, i would have taken it away from you. you need to be outside, overcoming your so-called fear of people.
porn is just babies as work-in-progress
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Old Aug 5th, 2006, 11:34 PM       
Originally Posted by glowbelly
a person who is afraid of people wouldn't post their private journal on a message board.
Are you sure?
Originally Posted by Dr. Boogie
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Old Aug 5th, 2006, 11:53 PM       
Originally Posted by glowbelly

a person who is afraid of people wouldn't post their private journal on a message board.

all i see is a normal teenager dealing with normal every day life by blowing everything way out of proportion.
A message board offers me a mild sense of anonymity, as false as it is. And you're right, these are just normal teenage problems. I just thought it'd be at least semi-entertaining for someone to read. Writing this makes me feel good. I know that, deep down in someplace hard to see, my father loves me. But he doesn't stick up for I or my brothers at all. My stepmother is not trying. She said it to me that she gave up on trying and that my brothers and I weren't the same people she knew three years ago. She's said that she doesn't like children. She said that when my father retires from the military, they're going to have two kids and she's going to leave them alone with him all day while she goes and works. She loves work, I don't know why she can't work more often.

Oh well. I do need to work on my fear of people.
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Old Sep 25th, 2006, 11:24 PM       
Hey assholes, leave the guy alone. He needs a place to vent, so let him vent, alright? I know for a fact that this guy isn't a whiney bitch, in fact this is the first I've ever seen him bring up his personal life. All of you are hypocrites. You all have felt the same as this guy at one time in your life. At least he has the balls to vent it out with you jerk-offs going down his throat.
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Old Sep 26th, 2006, 12:00 AM       
Who are you buddy boy?
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