Those Eyes.

Those eyes.

You wonder.

Wondering’s easy, because then you’re not doing and if you’re not doing then you’re not a cause and if you’re not a cause then you’re not an effect and if you’re not an effect then you’re out.

Causality.

Or something.

Those eyes.

You don’t want to be in the chain.

That gives you responsibility, and then you can be held accountable.

Then you’re the reason.

What does that even mean? The reason for what?

I think we’ve all done it, or at least I tell myself this. Right now, it feels like I’m the only bad person in this world. I can do this. I’m telling myself this as well. Say the words, fix everything, and then you won’t have to keep looking into

Those Eyes

like a deer in the headlights. Cliché, but apt. You’re about to be run over. You want to move, you want to say the right thing, you want to dodge the incoming pain, but you can’t.

So you don’t.

And now you’re looking into Those Eyes, and you’re seeing everything you’ve done wrong, and you wish you didn’t, and you’re hurting, and you’re causing, and you’re affecting, and you’re in the chain, and you really, really don’t want to be here, and you think that you’d rather be that deer getting hit than to be responsible for the pain that you see reflected back from looking into

Those Eyes.

I hate you and your driving.

Hello, I am a snowflake.

By simply seeing me, not only will you be further reduced into the depths of gibbering idiot (we assume you began somewhere slightly above this), but you will suddenly lose all ability to drive; more so than what you normally pass off as ‘driving.’ If I should ever come in contact with your car, your speeds will suddenly be reduced to 20 KPH, and you will only be allowed to drive upon the dotted line. This ensures that nobody can go around you, and that they must now follow along behind you, also going 20 KPH. Finally, if you are an anywhere near decent driver who has experienced me and my brethren… ever, or if you have any previous knowledge of how to operate a car at all, while I cannot render you mentally retarded by contact, I will ensure that you will become frustrated out of your minds at the idiocy of everyone on the road, and I will extend all of your driving periods by 1 hour.

That is all.

P.S. I hate you.

P.P.S. Rock Band, Neverwinter Nights 2 (fisty ranger has been justified) and semi-vapid Blonde Cheerleaders have rendered me incapable of doing work inside and outside of class. I may be catching Blonde as well, as signified by the length of this post.

P.P.P.S. Writing a prose piece for a class, might post tomorrow if I complete it.

So…

9:30 PM, January 23rd.

‘Sleep early, wake up early, go to lecture for the first time ever.’

I told myself this at precisely this time. I had just arrived back from work, several times almost falling asleep while driving and therefore coming close to a flaming (albeit interesting) death about six and a half times, but otherwise A-OK.

10:30 PM, January 23rd.

Munching on some food, ate with my sisters who had come over to visit; they left, and so I decided to mess around in Neverwinter Nights 2. My friend and I had just started playing it on LAN at my girlfriend’s house, completely ignorant of how to do what. (P.S. You can utilize a cracked CD Key to play on LAN by disconnecting yourselves from the internet and connecting your two computers via a phone line thing, but you didn’t hear that from me).

The end result would be the two most horrendous characters to ever enter the realms of NW2; sporting fantastic names like Adam West and Ting Budong (I believe that’s Mandarin for ‘a little bit,’ but I wouldn’t know; my friend is a tall white guy, and he knows more Mandarin than most Asians I know), and epic character histories like “Once defeated Chris (we’re both called Chris) in the war of 2182 via mass consumption of Hot Dogs. This therefore forced Chris to commit suicide by Rabid Badger.”

Things like that.

In other words, we would probably make the worst players to ever play tabletop Dungeons and Dragons with (which I would like to attempt one day, if for the stories I could then tell to anyone listening).

Anyway, since we’re so terrible, and since we’ve managed to turn the game into a “who gets the most loot and buys the neatest items first, regardless if the other needs it,” we figured a better approach, with better characters, is in order. Hence, the doddling around in NW2 websites to find out where we went terribly, terribly wrong. You have to admit, however, that a Fisty Ranger (that’s spelled right) sounds like a freakin’ sweet class.

12:30 AM, January 24th

I’ve found one significant problem that arises when your ‘doing things’ and ’sleep’ schedules co-mingle. Inevitably, you’re going to have to give up one for the other.

In a case of freak engineering, ‘doing fun things’ always takes precedence over ‘need to sleep,’ except in the specific case of when you are actually attempting to finish school work or readings; then ’sleep’ shoots up the priority list faster than a heroine addict in a room… full of heroine. Either way, once I discovered that I wasn’t in the least bit tired at 12:30 AM (after spelunking around for NW2 builds to justify my ‘Fisty Ranger’), I figured that I might attempt reading a book for my class.

12:32 AM, January 24th.

I fell asleep.

8:30 AM, January 24th.

Class is at 10:30 AM, commute is an hour at most, who really needs showers, food or ‘acceptable clothing for public wear.’ Alarm clock gets set for 30 minutes later, sleep ensues.

9:30 AM, January 24th.

At a later time, I’m told that my alarm clock actually went off.

9:42 AM, January 24th.

The sudden realization that you’re going to be very, very late strikes me and discovers me still in bed.

9:45 AM, January 24th.

Blitzing down the hill at speeds in excess of R12 (where R1 is a speed that’s ‘entirely too fast’), belt somehow looped around my shoulder and waist, attempting to eat an unpeeled banana, trying to catch a bus that had left my stop five minutes prior. I somehow bend time and get there. Sleeping on the bus is one of my favorite past times, and I engage in it with reckless abandonment, occasionally utilizing my neighbors as pillows.

9:46 – 10:28, January 24th.

At a later time, I’m told that I occasionally drool while I sleep on the bus.

Obviously these are unfounded rumors.

10:21 AM, January 24th.

Somehow. I make it. Early.

This is the first time I’ve ever made it to class on time.

This is also the first time I’ve ever attended this particular lecture, despite this being the third week, the sixth class.

I gleefully sit down in a perfect spot that enables me to play games and take notes at the same time without anybody noticing. I have ample leg space to stretch out and nap, should the fancy strike me. Essentially, I am set to do some serious class attending.

10:32 AM, January 24th.

The fire bell rings and we all evacuate.

I get coffee.

I return to find every seat filled except the one beside the large, hairy, muscular woman. She turns to me and beckons with what appears to be a ferret, but upon closer inspection, turns out to be her arm.

…

Perhaps… I will attend my seventh class instead.