Which Came First?
I would like to discuss the common sense questions which, ironically, seem to have everyone in a stand still baffled state of confusion.
Which came first? The chicken or the egg?
Did the baby come first? Or the human?
Did the mold come first? Or the bread?
It can only be realistic that the CHICKEN came first. Adam and Eve came before the baby, how else would darn Cain have been born?! Therefore, the egg can't produce a chicken, because the chicken has to produce the egg; thus meaning the CHICKEN is the predecessor...and now I could go for some barbecue with all this talk of chicken.
Is the glass half full or half empty?
Darn it! If you wanna know, then pay attention! If someone is drinking it, pouring it out, or in one way or another EMPTYING the contents therein, than it's HALF EMPTY; but, if someone is FILLING the cup, yada yada yada, than it's HALF FULL!
The world is 100 % LAND.
Yes, I said it. Scientists say that the world is 70 % water, if this were true...then what do they think is holding up all that water? More water?! There is land beneath that water, just as there is land beneath puddles in the road and ponds in your yard. This doesn't mean that the land has vanished, it is just being covered/hidden by the water, thus meaning the world is 100 % land with a generous supply of approximately 70 % water to garnish it.
Work-the funniest, most disturbing place on planet Earth
I work at, well, work. Here is just a short synopsis of the oh so many wonderful things we do:
Week 4 on the job: Me and co-worker play in the aisle ways, throwing paper balls and climbing shelves.
Week 6: I am hence known as "ponytail girl" aka: giggles. Courtesy of Satan.
Week 12: I "kindly remind" (he thinks it's "threatening") my co-worker of the dangers he could encounter at work.
Week 18: My co-worker begins the endless onslaught of throwing books at me when I least expect it.
Week 20: Co-worker calls me a fat dancing machine.
Week 23: Co-worker "accidently" runs me over with a cart while I'm sleeping in an aisle way and begins to throw everything within reach, including books and soda cans, at me.
Week 29: I "kindly remind" my co-worker of the dangers of leaving his drink unattended.
Week 43: Another game of catch. I put on a crown, stick a fake spider in my hair, and begin to roll around my work in a rolling chair.
Week 44: My boss sees me glide out of the back room kneeling on a chair, does a double take and calls me crazy. Can't say I blame him.
Week 56: My co-workers lock me in a closet for two hours. I finally realize I have my work's number and contact one of my bosses. She rescues me. They argue that they "blocked", not locked, me in the closet.
Week 57: Someone leaves chicken on a co-worker's desk. We search for the culprit.
Week 58: One of my co-workers puts hand sanitizer on top of another co-worker's doll's heads.
Week 59: We play Rock Band...ALL week.
Week 70: I roll around on the electrical weelchair ("scooter"), honking the horn, advising people we're closed.
Week 77: I sabotage my bosse's (Satan's[he was born on 6.6.66]) desk: counter set to 666, chair wrapped in caution tape, the book "the Devil and His Son" set in his chair. He loves it, I deny all knowledge and then confess, and he compliments me on the touch of the book. Me and my other boss plot to paint the break room pink and hang up smiley's everywhere, just for Satan.
Week 86: My co-workers decide that if I could be any T.V. show, I would be "That Girl". Look it up.
Week 87: I go to ask my boss a question. He asks me what I want, commenting that he knows that smile. He he. :)
Week 92: I'm caught licking cake off of a napkin after eating the cake...I was hungry.
Disclaimer: While all of the events are factual occurences, the dates/weeks are not, they are just guestimated.
Another time around...
Here's another one...I like this one a little more because it deals with the problems of the world...yada yada. This is from the same book.
Disclaimer: I wrote this in the eighth grade, LONG before I ever met my current high school friends that go by Molly and Pamela. Yes, strange coincidence; no, not intentional.
I looked down on the world today. I saw everything. I witnessed the secret you told to your best friend Molly. I saw Cano gossip to Lin about Jack. I pretended to not notice Johnny steal money from his friend to buy pot and then later get into a fight at school. I ignored the people telling lies and stealing from their family. I lied to myself about not seeing the bloodshed and the hurt and anger. I saw Suzy’s kidnappers and the people who rescued her. I saw firefighters die and give their lives for thirty-six people stuck in a warehouse. Pamela organized a campaign for unknown diseases. I watched as the once innocent Lynden shot his best and true friend. I saw little kids steal. I saw Jane give all she had to offer to the poor and needy when she had close to nothing herself. Children went from door to door caroling. Adults gave gifts and exchanged friendly greetings at family reunions. I measured the faith of people sitting in church. I watched as police arrested a man for his attempt to kill thousands of people. I watched as people serving their country went to work every day knowing that they might not see the next sunrise. I saw the corrupt and the kind, the nice and the mean, the true and those pretending, I saw it all. I began to notice things about people that even themselves could never recognize. The pain, hurt, agony, friendship, happiness, those that cared to lend a helping hand. I watched helplessly as the rich stole and the poor gave. I realized how some knew not where they were headed or where they were at. Some seemed to be stuck in the small fragments of time; swaying back and forth between what they know is right and what is wrong. And there I sat, watching it all, and doing nothing.
Yet Again
Quite honestly, I don't like this post or the one before it. I think they're terrible, but if you're that bored: knock yourself out. This is from the same infamous, aforementioned book.
The bell within the big oak clock tower inside of City Square chimed three times, piercing the frozen and silent air. Everything stood still and not even one rustle of a child stirring or a crow flying was heard. There was complete silence and yet there was something disturbing about the silence. No friendship was offered from its frostbitten arms or cold tundra. Thirty degrees and I was lying in the dark with my blanket wrapped around my ankles, sweating profusely. The air in my room was humid and sticky and I had my only window open to the outdoors, welcoming comfort and a slight breeze. I pushed back the blanket that was choking my ankles and fell on the ground. Laying in silence on the cool hardwood floor I used every muscle in my body to slowly heave myself off the floor and bring myself to the window. I placed one hand on the cool metal that framed the window and stuck the other out the window to let the chill of Christmas Eve run across my arm. Chilled and wanting to sit in the cool comfort, I crawled out the window and sat on the sloped roof that was twenty feet above the ground. My entire body became limp and the feeling soothed me almost to the point of falling asleep. The wind rushed across my face; quickly growing in speed and strength. I looked toward the clock tower. Something I did not recognize was rising from the bottom of the tower. The figure became larger as it slowly approached. Darkness and despair clothed him and he had no smile on his face but a look of sadness and hurt. The closer he came the more I felt empty and alone. I began to feel everything he felt only at greater measurements and I felt sorry for him. Everything I could never know or feel began to creep inside of me. Happiness, sadness, surprise, hurt, anger, despair, future, past. I felt it all. It killed me to know what I shouldn’t and yet I thirsted for more of the forbidden knowledge. What pained this unfamiliar person? Why was he sharing it with me? These were things that I would never know.
Random
Yet more ramblings from eighth grade from the same pullings of repertoire...
Clementine always wanted to be a singer and decided she would use every spare college moment in choir. One day, out of the blue, she decided that she did not want to go to the school she had planned on going to anymore but to a different one in a different state. While there, she decided to take band as one of her choice activities since she had never learned how to play an instrument growing up. Of course, she filled up the rest of her time with choir, but why she had chosen band was beyond reason. Clementine worked hard and became very close friends with a girl named Tina, who just happened to be in only one of her classes: band. Over the years Tina and Clementine remained best friends even though they went their separate ways. Tina went along with her music career and Clementine chased her hopeless singing career. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t seem to find the right people to help her continue her dream. One day Tina called her up with hellacious news. She had talked to her manager and told him all about Clementine. After hearing about Clementine, Ted, Tina’s manager, wanted to cut her a deal and bring her into the music industry! Clementine was ecstatic. She would finally be able to live out her dream at last!
Abigail
This is a story I wrote in the eighth grade, pulled from a repertoire of inner thoughts and morals to live by. It's old and I can't promise the grammar, but enjoy. Please notice that this story is a reflection, not of me, but a reflection on life itself. Most people become confused if they don't understand that tidbit right there.
Abigail
The cold air pierced through the silent night like a sharp knife. No one, not a single person, was there to hear it; and never would be. Not one single person. So lonely was the chilly night that no one dared to step outside of their house for fear they would catch a cold. No one, that is, except for one person. I watched her stare up at the night sky, wrapped in her knitted blanket--worn, the colors faded. It was as if she were waiting for something. But what? What could she possibly be waiting for on a frost-bitten night of December at the young age of twenty-three? Her name was Abigail.The stars twinkled in such a beautiful array of fantasies and sparkles. So much hope did they bring that it was surely a sight to be seen. The young woman sat still and dared not to move, and I suspected that she never would, not until whatever she was waiting for came. I imagined it was something marvelous but I did not care to risk my health to the frozen air to ask what. My heart went out to Abigail; she seemed so alone and cold. She had neither gloves nor a coat and yet she kept her place. I could imagine a gentle tear rolling down her cheek. Slowly it rolls until she gives a slight blink of her eye and then it drops off her chin and falls to the ground without a sound loud enough for anyone to notice. Just where was she heading? What good did she think she brought by freezing herself to death? What was she waiting for? So many questions that I yearned to ask her, but I just couldn't. I didn't have the courage, the will. I looked into this young girl's soft face and then into her warm, deep blue eyes. She had both and then some. How could she manage to be so brave and so determined when she knew not where she was headed? Even I myself had no type of courage or understanding. I yearned with all my heart and soul that I should obtain what she had, though I knew her not. How could someone so meaningless and unknown have such a great effect on myself and others around her? Others that noticed. I stared at her for hours on end and not once did she give up. Not once did she leave her place. No words were spoken and she had not seen me and yet I learned so much from her."Abigail! It's time for dinner!" My mother called from the kitchen."Coming!" I replied as I left the frosted-paned window, letting my hand slip away from the pink, satin curtain. On my way to mother I picked up my ragged and worn knitted blanket in which the colors were faded.
I Want Fruit
How many times have you craved fruit? Do you crave fruit at all? Well, I do, and it's leading me to a maniac rage. I dream about fruit, I salivate fruit, I want fruit. Okay, so maybe not THAT extreme, but you get my point right? You see, every Christmas, my family pigs out on an abnormal amount of chocolate, and the following weeks are torture. Coming home from school, the first thing I think about is chocolate. In order to counter-balance this phenomenon, I force myself to eat fruit rather than chocolate or sweets whenever I get a craving, but then I get hooked on fruit, causing an endless cycle of suffering. Why? Because my family is anti-fruit the way that I'm anti-soda, meaning we have no fruit, usually. Now, we do have vegetables from time to time, but for the most part, I'd rather have fruit. Kiwis, Star Fruit, Tangerines, Cherries, and Tomatoes! Yes, tomatoes. My first and only love. I eat them like apples and I eat them quite often. Once, I ate twenty three tomatoes in three days. My parents were convinced I was causing myself bodily damage in an OD fashion, and they weren't able to supply enough tomaotes for our soups and cookouts...so they bought them less often and kept the secrecy of them being purchased. :( . Once, I had my mom go get carrots at twelve thirty in the morning because I was craving them so bad. But I remain an avid fruit lover, true and proud! Except for apples, which I consider a vegetable and a disgrace to the fruit tribe.
Computers. Evil.
Computers should, to put it nicely, die. Petafilers, copyright infringement, identity theft, viruses that eat up your hard drive, vulnerability. And I see half of this on a daily basis at work, especially the aforementioned petafilers. There are sixty year olds where I work that view little six year old's myspaces who put how happy they are to live in Alabama with their frail grandma in apartment sixteen in such and such place. Well, isn't that nice and reassuring?The computer is a waiting disaster threat. How many times have you lost a document or forgot to save a post and had to start all over again? I've made the same mistake with downloading songs. I downloaded all my favorite songs and kept telling myself that I would write it down on paper-just in case. But I kept putting it off and putting it off until one day, there were no songs. Now let's broaden my depression to a larger scale. Has anyone seen "Live Free or Die Hard"? What if the government kept all of the country's information and vital documents in a hard drive with no paper backup or flash drive back up of any kind and one day, it's hacked or suddenly shuts down? What if you did that with your own information and had no way of retrieving it?Let's look on the bright side, computers do make life easier. (Like that cool Dominos Pizza Tracker, so you can yell at the computer because Erick isn't making it fast enough...yeah :)...not that I've done that or anything...) But let's not discredit computers and technology all together. Paper can be just as bad, if not worse. Paper can fly away, get misplaced, burned, stolen, etcetera. So what we really need is an equal balance of both so that we can be prepared-just in case. Similar to having plans and food storages in case of an emergency.
It's All a Conspiracy
Yes, it's a conspiracy. 'What?' you ask? Why, everything! You don't believe me? Take a look around. Rising gas prices? A conspiracy set up by governments, so that they and the oil big wiggs can make a killing off of our need for speed in a vehicle. The fifteen dollars for bags checked in on flights? A conspiracy to get more money, that they may one day take over this greed inoculated planet. The recession we're in? That's a conspiracy too, set up by terrorists within the government so that we may lose our faith in the economy and ultimately lead ourselves to our own destruction! And nine-eleven? Conspiracy! Conspiracy! Conspiracy! All set up by George and his water amphibian friends beneath the earth that are seeking to destroy our nation. He's one of them! Why else would our government murder thousands of U.S. citizens? Marijuana is a conspiracy too, what with the government being greedy and all. You see, us complacent Americans have become too dense, narrow-minded, and brain-washed by SpongeBob to realize these subtle factors in our changing lifestyle.
Disclaimer: In no way do I support or contribute to these random, misguided ramblings. I do, however, support our government with great pride and fervor as we are currently the strongest, most free nation on "God's green Earth" (taken from that radio show my dad always blasts in the car)
Old Drunk Men
Old, drunk men are callow and clueless. Imagine a camel. Imagine a camel riding a unicycle with a "hand" waving a drink and a strangely parched and thirsty aura about him. That is what old, drunk men look and act like.A few days ago, while working at Lone Star Park, I was forced to endure the painfully agonizing and continuous encounter with an overly inebriated, forty year old man, who thought I was the "sweetest thing" and whose goal it was to "pick me up". No matter how many times I told him how young I was and that my MOM would have to hand him the infamous beverage, for I am underage, he repeatedly returned for more beer, trying to get the lucky "goal" of "scoring" my number.
Moral of the story? Don't drink, you just look that much more pathetic.
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