Oh, Shadow, where art thou?

So, yesterday was an adventure in what the fuck.
What’s this!?
An actual blog about actual things, not just random bullshit!?
FOR SHO MOTHAFUCKAS, FO SHO.
Anyways, I was Water Spidering for Universal Receive, and at the start of shift, one of our PAs, Starlight, tells me that a new guys going to Shadow me and I get to show him the ropes.
Yes! I love it when peeps Shadow me, meaning I get to teach people! This is going to awesome!
So,  I introduce myself, and the day goes smoothly, I tell him about picking up Prep, taking care of Transship, Down Stack, Palatalizing, where to put AR and NYR Prep, whether to use a Cage or U boat on certain lines because of the support beams, and we get to work.
I think everything’s going great and he gets pulled aside for another task, because hey, that happens, happened to me, and I was thrown into the deep end and had to ask a lot of questions in order for me to get my bearings, but once I did, I just knocked everything out.
So, I’m knocking things out left and right, and on occasion my Shadow pops around to ask the occasional question and  I do my best to answer him.
But then I notice something, every time I ask him to help me out with something, he asked if he could use the restroom, I think nothing of it, because as a Water spider, you don’t have to ask to use the restroom, you just go, do your thing, then come back.
Five or ten minute would pass before I see him again, and at this point, I starting to get just a little annoyed with him.
Juuuuuuuust a little.
So instead fo talking to Starlight about the issue, I think that I should try and nudge him along, so next time we’re collecting prep, I ask him how he feels about rate and recieving, and since he’s 18 and just out of High-school, he says meh, to most of it, so I ask him if he enjoys Water spidering, and he says that he’ll do it if he’s asked.
I have to remind myself of how I was at 18 in order to refrain from going verbally full bore on the kid, so I gently tell him that if the PAs, Problem Solvers, and AMs see him knocking things out left and right, that they’ll want to use him more. Anyways, gotta get ready for the day. I’ll finish this up in another part.

Can I tell you something?

I’m shy.
I know, I know… Let it sink in.
I’m normally a talkative person, at least, I was a talkative person, then I had the accident, and… well, everything kind of shifted perspective.
Everything except one aspect of my life.
Writing, it’s been the one thing I can always come back to in case anything ever falls apart of if I need to vent, because off the internet, I don’t feel very powerful.
Even on the internet, I’m not some kind of Demiinfluencer, or star, or anything like that. I’m just me.
All I have are my stories to occupy my time with, and that’s it.
Seriously.
I used to think that all I needed was a bit of luck and persistance and things would work themselves out and for a long time, that’s exactly how I thought, I’m not exactly proud of the results, but I can say that for whatever reason, I have the skillset I do, because I persisted in writing.
Maybe it’s because I have a from of control over whatever happens, or lack of control if I get too deep into the story itself?
Or maybe it’s a god complex?
You know, where you can make or break anything with a few simple keystrokes?
Authors complex, or something, outside of writing, I’m just me.
And, through a lot of self reflection, a bunch of accidents, relationships, a fuck ton of sex, and more than one time where I’ve gotten blackout drunk, or been roofied, I’ve gotten to where I am… Whereever that is.
I’ve got a lot of victories on the board, but for some reason, they don’t feel like victories, they feel like just another day, another step forward, another clank of the gears in the great clockwork of the universe.
I mean, I feel appreciated at work, and sometimes at home, and for a while, I used to feel appreciated on the internet, and in some cases I still do.

Maybe I just want someone to love now a days.
Yeah, I think that’s it.
I need someone to love, someone to come home to and talk about my day and not feel like I’m about to be over taken by some inconsequential thing.
I thought I had that with Caasi, Ashley, and Sarah, and Amy.
Amy was a sweet woman, still is. Just… I wish things had worked out with her, I was actually making real progress with her, and… I just took too long.

There it is, the thing that’s bothering me.
Things taking too long. Maybe patience, or being too patient is the problem? I need to act, need to make impulsive, but smart, decisions! I need to get out there and make short work of supposedly long decisions! I need to put myself out i nthe sun and learn to live with whatever ashes it makes of me!
But… I’m too cautious.
Ever since the accident.

Ever since the accident, survival is the only thing that matters, everything else, including finding love, is secondary…
Kinda sad.

Old post from….. I dunno when.

It’s finally off the ground, re-titled, “Evolution of a Blogger”, covering posts from 2008 to 2016, and it’s hovering around 898 pages at THIS point. Good god, it’s FINALLY happening! See, I told you it would happen eventually, People Who Didn’t Believe Me! So far it’s taken me a total of 18 hours just getting everything into its own little place, and there is a LOT of spelling errors, grammatical corrections, punctuation problems, not to mention unnecessary text in places there shouldn’t be to be corrected, not to mention the separating of the posts themselves, making sure the titles of the years months blog post is indexed correctly in that years months table of contents, and just holy shit…. Just holy shit this is the first of four MiniBosses that I’m up against.
I came up with this idea while I was still attending Victor Valley College, and I’m thinking of adding my Facebook Notes to the collection as well, but I don’t want to go overboard, Nah, I don’t think I will.
Other Projects in the pipeline.
I’m scouring Blake and I’s old chat log archive from yahoo messenger for any kind of short story and just random blurb that’s interesting enough to qualify as a short story, and so far I’ve manage to track down the book summaries, the TRUE beginning of the fourth book, a detailed synopsis of book three, 7 or 8 short story ideas, and there is so much more to go! Not to mention my own short story collection here on Facebook as well, in fact, I was about to get started on writing a post on wordpress when I remembered a short story I had written for Maddie K. called “The Ugly Pumpkin” that was total badassery, true, it only had a few parts to it, but I remember having so much passion for those kinds of stories, where there was a real person by whom I was inspired to write a story, to use them as a muse, that energy behind it!
Plus, Halloween was right around the corner, so that story ended up being pretty cathartic for a number of reasons.
Using Createspace.com to make a beach out of a mountain range.
But, So far? I’ve managed to knock out a number of titles on Amazon using a fun little site called Createspace.com, it’s fast, easy and free to use! Best of all? you have the option of either a 35% or a 70% Royalty on all of your titles, multiple avenues of distribution, they don’t force you to pay them to pay for publishing, but rather, give you the option to pay for a professional to design your books cover, not to mention the ability to publish Music CDs or DVDs from their site as well!
Here are my published works, complete with links!
Wrath of Puppy Monkey Baby (Everyone loves this one for some reason.)
Messages to a Really Bad President (Still need to get rid of the old version)
The Debate of Factions (Bush Era Politics and Smoke Monsters)
The Six Strings of the Highlanders Guitar (Story about Family…. a REALLY Fucked up family.)
Songs of the Soul (My big ass book of lyrics) Manliest Diary in the world (Literally a diary for boys.)
One Shots — Army of the Incomplete (A Collection of Short Stories I’ve written over the years.)
And if you search up Dorikame on Amazon, you’ll most likely see these, written by Blake Frazee and myself and published using Xlibris, and for future reference, we will be using Create space for the Revamp of the first book, titled “Dorikame Saga: Birth of Change, Liory King Edition” with additional content, a deeper story-line, and just… better everything mixed in with the original book y’all love so much! We will also be using the Createspace platform for A slightly touched up version of Broken Omen as well as for books 3 through 10 of the Dorikame Saga.
The Dorikame Saga: Birth of Change
The Dorikame Saga: Broken Omen
Everything will be made available to be purchased in eBook format as well for Kindle or whatever y’all have. This includes everything that I’ve written, ever, in the entirety that I’ve been on the internet as far back as I can find it. you remember how I was talking about “EoaB” Or Evolution of a Blogger” being the first of four Mini bosses that I’m tackling?
Well, here are the other three planned projects that qualify in order of size:
Minion Level:
270 Separate
One Shots – Lost and Forgotten
The Brothers Dorikame – Lost Legends
War of the Holos
Masla’s Revenge
Normal Day
Shadow Heart
Rage of the Puppy Monkey Baby
Infinite Web
Miniboss Level
working title:
Okay, Cupid, tell me a love story
Diary of the Mad Twitter
Final Boss Level: Sogno Della Dinastia (Books 1 through 10)
The Dorikame Saga (Books 3 through ten)
My invisible Facebooking…
I am well aware that I haven’t been on Facebook as much as I probably should have, but at the same time, I’ve been more active on twitter and YouTube, I haven’t been sharing my vids from YouTube as much lately because… For no real reason, really. Sometimes the videos are short, stupid, and have no purpose, and other times, I really do have things that are of relevance. I’ve missed out on whatever weirdness is playing out here, partly because I really… just don’t care about that kind of thing, partly because I’m very busy with before mentioned list of projects, writing, compiling, editing, formatting, publishing, that kind of thing, and partly because I just have better things to do. Yes, one could make the argument that could kind of make me a soulless irritating bastard for not liking whatever “cat on a roomba” GIF you uploaded in response to someone making a tart comment about a picture of you eating McDonald’s in an ugly sweater while your boss was wearing a lampshade, drunk off their ass at an office Christmas party that no really cares about anymore, but that’s your problem.
Look, i love y’all, I really do. I’m just incredibly busy knocking these things out left and right. And while, yeah, internet drama is fun and all, after a while you just notice the same repetitive pattern of weird useless BS that repeats itself with a different flavor every time. Is it important? Of course, because it affects you or those close to oyu, or offends or excites you in one way or another. Is it worth investing your time in if you grabs your eye? Hey, you do you, if that makes you happy, go for it.
Personal Evolution
At the same time, we should take a long hard look at how we’re spending our time, and ask ourselves these following questions: Are we using it to the best of our ability? What productivity will come of it? Will we learn or practice a skill or trade from it? Will others find enjoyment out of it in their own ways?
If the answer to all or most of those questions is yes, then by all means, go for it. Do what is important to you, if in the long run, you find yourself in a corner, just do what comes naturally to vent off the steam, get back to your happy place, and move forward. I see this all the time on twitter, teens and young adults getting mad about things from days or weeks ago that they just found out about, and doing their best to try and find a way to make said person feel like an idiot about it. Yeah, to some extent, it’s important for John “I keep my kids imprisoned” Whatshisfuckface to be called out on his bullshit, but if you keep your focus on the stuff that makes you angry? Then I have to ask you, “Why are you so focused on it?” Why focus on the anger and resentment and the fear that will nail your self confidence to the floor and never let up?
I ask these questions, because for the longest time, I was that teen, then young adult, and now that I’ve had some time (Two months, lmao, thank you Great Lakes Naval RTC, you taught me many a thing.) to REALLY think about everything. Every single thing that brought me to that point. I thought about what it was that everyone’s so very angry about, what we’re all so happy about, what makes the world go round and round, and I think I’ve found the answer.
Why we’re angry: We’re angry because of the things we can’t change but want to change. We’re like ants trying to push a ping pong ball up a little mole hill. Individually, a single ant cant do much, but with the support of others, we really can push that ping pong ball over the hill, and get the change we want. Why we’re so happy: Because of the many different celebrations in our lives, celebrating that which elevates us or makes us feel good about ourselves or others is very important, (No shit). Love, birth, discovery, recovery, rehabilitation, reaching our destination on whatever path we hold dear? All of those are reasons to be so very happy!
What makes the world go round: Love, joy, progress, forward momentum that never ceases. We are a collection of people, each of us facing a variety of directions, often times, the directions we face are different from those right next to us, and vice versa, and it may seem like the directions anyone of us is facing, is backwards to another person, but regardless of what direction we are looking towards, we always face forward. Am I stating that every path or facing direction is a healthy one? Nope. Am I stating that one group of people is right over another? Nope. All I’m saying is that the journey forward can face any direction it wishes, and whether or not the destination is good or bad is just another determining factor in our own personal evolution’s.
Big ass thank you to everyone in my life that’s helped me, influenced me, that We’ve talked, conversed in one way or another, or we interacted a few times. All of you are truly amazing people, and believe me, I’ve tried coming up with a list of peeps, trust me, but there are too many to name and I just don’t want to snub anyone or have y’all feel left out.
Peace.
——————–
Update:
I’m now working at Amazon full time, having become a blue badge, things are getting interesting, and I’m pretty happy, I’m guessing this post was written way the fuck in 20…18, had to re-read some of the stuff. Anyways, things are good, God, I really need to get all of those drafts posted.

We need to talk.

Alrighty folks, let’s talk a bit about not getting dicked over, or at the very least, putting up with it up until a certain point, yes?
So, I’m paying a friend 600 a month for rides to a from work, and before you say it, yes, I agree, it’s a completed fucked price.
But we’ve been friends for a long ass time, and I’m doing the right thing by helping him out.
That being said, let’s do the math.
Normally, I would’ve gotten paid between 2,200 and 2,500 a month, depending on Overtime.
that’s around 15/16 bucks an hour, pretty sizeable chunk of change right there, y’know?
My two main expenses:
Rent: 500
Rides: 600
————
1,100 a month for both.
we’re down to 1,100/1,300 a month.
That is a sizeable chunk.
That equates to about 1 and 300 a week total.
THAT is MEtroPCS money.
That is fucked.

Now, I’m down for the rent, that’s no biggy, it’s an evil fart cloud I can live with.
the 600 a month for rides that normally would’e run me around 120 a month?
Where’s this money going?
Gas, oil changes, and wear and tear.

Why the fuck am I responsible for this?
Because, we’re friends, and I’m doing the right thing… And I need a consistent ride to work, and he’s very consistent and worth the expense, and we’re good friends.

That last thing? The friendship? That’s what’s holding this thing together, and despite what everyone, including myself thinks about the arrangement, which I was able to bring down from 800.

So, “I’m doing the right thing by helping out a friend.” has become my mantra.
I’m doing the right thing by helping out a friend.
I’m doing the right thing by helping.
I’m doing the right thing.
Friendshippudden.

I’ve got nothing except love.

For some reason I always get weird when talking about love, not in the sense that it becomes perverted self inflation of how ginormous my dick is, because… that would be a gross use of power, also, physiologically, every large dicked man has a constant fear of having a heart attack caused by getting aroused, look it up, straight up fact.
Speaking of big dicks, the dude with the largest dong measures in at two fucking feet.
My question:
Does he go to Hentai cons? because people would fucking love that shit.

Anyways, today is one of the random, “Meh, I knock one out” days, I’m not active enough to garner new followers, but just active enough to keep the ones I have, and honestly, I don’t check the numbers anymore. Why? I don’t care about them, if I continually check the numbers to see how I’m doing, then I fuck myself with anxiety, and I don’t need that shit in my life again.
I get it now, when people say they turn off social media and what not, they try not to focus too much on it, because that’s just how shit is, you live, you learn, you get excited about nothing in particular, and then you move the fuck on.
I wish for the love of god it were that easy with me.
I kind of hate all my socials with a average sized dick passion. Yes, we’re floating back to that shit, because why the fuck not?
Anyways, to make matters interesting, works been going good, this MET is kicking my ass something fierce, but I’m sticking with it, with the knowledge and passion knowing that sometime in October, I’ll get converted, and with any luck, won’t have a ride situation that’s not going to fuck me out of 600 fucking dollars a fucking month just to get two and from work.
Look, I get it, you got out before they got you out, and you’ve got bills and shit to take care of, but how the fuck come I’ve got to be the one to do that, when clearly, you’ve got the scratch to do that on your own. Fuck, if I’m paying you 600 a month for rides to work and back, that I might as well move in with you, because that right the fuck there is rent levels of money and Jesus fucking Christ.
But at the same time, they’re my friend, and “Do the right thing” is ringing in my head. But momma didn’t raise no sucker, and I know when I’m getting fucked over, friendship or not.
And even when they get back in, it’s still gonna cost me 200 a week to get a ride with them, even when they’ve got their own money coming back in? Citing, gas, oil change, tires, blah blah blah when the fuck did I become responsible for MORE then just gas? Yes, the wear and tear and all that, but at the same time, at the end of each month, after taxes, rent, and gas, I’m essentially getting paid HALF of what everyone else’s is getting to take home. And I’m back to 900 a month instead of 2200 a month, so this is my main fucking gripe right there.

Yeah, we’re friends through thick and thin, but the moment you’re back at work is the moment I’m finding a better ride situation.

Impermanence: With the pull of a trigger

I normally don’t do scripted videos anymore, I like to be unfocused, let my mind wander. But for some reason, I can’t let this one go.
Too many dead.
Too much anger.
Too much is too much.
I’ve written scripts for videos on Mass shootings before, with the clear sight on anger, or confusion, or wondering just what the fuck is actually going on, and most of the time, it started off with anger, and then popped into a kind of cooled down rage.
Friday, Brenton Tarrant, Australian, and a former Gym Teacher who felt lost with the ideology instilled in him by his parents and society at large, who then went from place to place, trying to find something, anything that would fill his spiritual and ideological needs, went from bad to worse and finally landed on the White Nationalist ideology, and then took it one step further.
He planned a massacre with two other men and one woman.
Before he went about his merry fucked up way, Brenton wrote an 87-page manifesto filled with intolerance, hatred, and plain old racism, with phrasing in tune with ISIS, referencing Donald Trump, and calling for people to Subscribe to Pewdiepie for maximum damage beyond the scope of what a pulled trigger could do.
He carried it out, shooting and killing 50 Muslims worshipping at two mosques in Christchurch and another in New Zealand, and wounding twenty others as well, live streaming the whole 17-minute debacle through a streaming service, posting it on 8chan, and from there, the footage just spread like wild fire.
Please know that I fucking hate Brenton Tarrant, and any other person like him, someone who has lost their damned fucking mind, unsatisfied with their life, and clearly out of their damned mind. Someone who feels they need to take the lives of others in order for their own life, in their mind, to have any kind of worth.
New Zealand had been, until recently, inoculated from mass shooters because of its relatively small size and because it happens to be an island nation, yes, I know, but for simplicity sake, I’m calling it a island nation.
My focus and the effects of coffee don’t last as long as they used it.
Never the less, the response has been amazing.
Not long after the shooting, footage cropped up of New Zealand law enforcements beating the utter fuck out of Brenton, as all Law enforcement has the right to do to Mass shooters. At least, in my opinion.
Look, this isn’t easy for me to write, let alone keep my focus on, but I will say this, I’m not going to be one of those people who think that by not saying the person’s name or talking about it, you’re going to make the problem go away.
Know what that’s called? Digging your head in the sand.
Being a fucking Ostrich.
Don’t be a fucking Ostrich
Talk about the issue, talk about what the utter fuck is on your mind, stop hiding your opinion because that’s what the shooters want, if you stop talking about it, stop communicating, then how will we learn how to prepare?
I’m not one to be ashamed of my words, well, not anymore, when I state the following:
These past twelve years, in the scope of the sheer number of shootings, have been fucking horrific. Kids, teens, adults, men, women, old, young, civilian, former military, I mean, will it ever end?
The short answer is, no.
Not until we go the drastic route is making and slow and horrifying example out of the next one. I won’t go into detail, but dear god I REALLY want to.
Fuck it, let’s do this shit.
I think, we should televise the execution of the shooter, not in the classic way, not by the merciful bullet to the head or lethal injection, no, no, no, no, nooooo my friends. I think we should sit them down, and ask them one simple question:
We’re they able to get away with it, using whatever tools they had made available to them, and let them take as much time as they wanted to take their targets apart, what would they do, how would they go about it, how long would they take to get it done?
And how they responded?
Do the exact same thing to them, as per their own disgusting instructions.
Take them apart, piece by piece, as if the executioner was a mechanic, disassembling a car down its very bolts. Happen upon them what they would happen upon their targets.
Televise that shit, make it the only thing on.
Force people to watch.
Send the message that those who commit such acts on innocent lives will be dealt with in the same fashion, and their last words of disgusting intent be the words of their own undoing, and their last words will be of their own screams being cut short by the final merciful act of slowly, ever so slowly twisting their heads till they screamed like rabbits being prepped for the pot, their cries for mercy and understanding falling on deaf ears as their victims cries for mercy fell deaf upon theirs.
Tell them, in their final moment, that loved ones will not greet them, nor god, nor the devil. That their minds shall simply cease to be, their brains will shut down, and everything they ever knew will be nothing. Their body will lie, cold and in the dirt to be feasted upon and turned to compost by insects, and eventually all record of who they were shall be erased.
Whatever impact they held in life, will weigh as nothing in death.
The point being, and needing to move on to the next point of interest here, is that idiots are going to be idiots. That seems like a watered-down version of the thing I want to know, and knowing me, I’m going to say it somewhere else, but we need to do something about the chaotically unwinding clock spring of the collective Human Psyche. It’s snapped, and it aint stopping, yes, it’s slowed down some, and yes, Donald trump with his brand of crazy is absorbing the majority of the blows from this thing, but we need to figure out a way of stopping it completely.
The usual news cycle is going to play out, that Brenton’s a white nationalist, something broke in his head, thoughts and prayers are going to be flung out from across the world, and HOPEFULLY New Zealand makes good on its promise to change its gun laws, and from there, things will go the route they usually do.
Sad, but true.
And I don’t write those words easily.
I write them, knowing full well that lives were lost, families torn apart, sons and daughters will grow up never hearing their father and or mothers’ voices again, mothers and or fathers, brothers and or sisters, husbands and or wives will continue living on with a great hole in their lives where there was once comfort and joy.
We need to do better.
All of us.
In whatever capacity we can.
We need leaders that aren’t afraid of insulting their base when a tragedy strikes.
We need condemnation of Nazis.

All that we are.
All that we were.
All that we will ever be.
Within 200 years after our initial passing, everyone connected to us, all our works, all stories of our descendants, will be as nothing. Simply dust in the wind.
Data never to be viewed again.
Words never to read.
Voices never to be heard.
Within 200 years, if we’re lucky, and we’ve lived a life worth living, we will be remembered for that one spark of ingenuity that made us memorable.
All other details? Gone, until rediscovered.
If it sounds like I’m sucking the philosophical dick right now, that’s because I am. The Mosque shootings have gotten me thinking about the importance of things, the greater meaning behind it all, it’s kick started something in my mind that won’t let go, no matter how much I want it to.
Back in my twenties, when I was wild, free, not tied down by the twelve ton chains of the truth of life in general, that all actions, all words, all story lines, have been repeated countless times by countless others in one way or another, I had so many different theories about how humanity continued to be.
About how our seemingly infinite variety of facial and body designs, were in fact very limited in scope, and the only difference between you and that other, at least a hundred, at most ten thousand, other people who look almost exactly like you or had the exact same thought, interest, likes, dislikes, fears, and or non-fears like you were limited to that scope, because at our hearts, at our very cores, within that subset of values, we’re simply copies of people that came before us, and they, copies of people who came before them.
Yet, despite our similarities, what we share both mentally and or physically, the ways in which we go about achieving those interests, overcoming those fears, the technology we have access to changes with every cycle.

We are fucking amazing.

And yet, with the simple snapping of a mind, the spiral into the darker parts of the basic, primal, savage, lizard section of the human mind.
With the planning of the deaths of those incorrectly perceived to be threats to our own personal safety.
With the purchasing of weapons capable of carrying out such plans.
With the initiating those plans, aiming of those weapons, and the pulling of the trigger to take out those incorrectly perceived as threats, and the ending of those same lives…
Those copies of humans who came before, at least that particular lineage, for that person, if they do not have kids…
that persons story will end.
A kind of metaphysical, “BEGONE THOT!” moment.
We are only temporary, but the impact, the weight of what we, they, he, or she will have left behind can be felt immensely, as if to say, “Hear our voice echo throughout this mighty chamber, though I may be gone and my life now forfeit, my deeds, my actions, will haunt the ones that have done me wrong. For my soul was cast, not in the name of evil or good, but somewhere in the middle, so as I might choose my own path. Here my actions thunder throughout creation, for my name be but spoken, and judgement will come thundering down upon the that poor soul.”
Impermanence: Temporary.

How will you make your impact on history last eternal?

Women… Phhh

First off, y’all… are strange as fuck.
And, here’s why that’s a good thing.
you are innovators.
you are geniuses.
you are teachers.
You are muses.
you are inspiration.
You are literally the engine that keeps humanity going, and yes, talking about crotch stuff. Well, belly… you know what I’m talking about. TALKIN’ BOUT EJECTING A TINY HUMAN FROM CROTCH HOLE AFTER FUN FUN TIME!
Men are just as insecure about mating as women are about men being insecure about mating.
Here’s the thing, and fun with girl logic memes:
A gal, hanging around with some guy friends, in some cases, has to claim she has a boyfriend, (I said in SOME cases) so that any potential annoying flirts will be knocked away, like a fluffy cat, batting at a piece of string. The string of hope, it dangles. Like old man balls. Bat, fluffy cat, bat.
Getting off track, I honestly have no fucking clue where I was going with this, needless to say, it’s hard for me to transition from friend to boyfriend, because then I get caught up in what’s allowed versus not allowed because then it’s a whole new ballgame, and I’d rather meet someone new with the sole intention of getting with them, and while the friends first thing works out a ton, it just confuses the fuck out of me, because if things don’t work out, and I’m sending you the “go ahead” signal, but you don’t send it back, wtf does the mean?
Try harder?
Stop trying?
Eat at Joe’s?
Where the fuck is Joe’s?
What do they serve?
Are there annoying yelp reviews that I can make fun of?
Most importantly, with women, in this day and age, dating is fucking terrifying, because ya don’t know how the gal is going to react, what the hell is going through her head, and more importantly, what the percentage of success you’re going to have is, I’m not talking how often is it going to end up in sex, I’m simply talking getting to the next date and so on and so forth, especially with the ingrained perception that YOU MUST HAVE AT LEAST THIS MUCH TO EVEN QUALIFY FOR A DATE!
And even then, it’s a fucking mystery as to which women will reply to what messages in what style and that’s another set of SHERLOCK BOOKS THAT TAKES YEARS TO GET THROUGH and the whole time you’re thinking to yourself, ‘The fuck. Could be at home watching porn!’
But nooooooo!
That’s always the wrong answer, porn is never the right answer, unless the question being asked is “How many feathers can I get away with?”
But now you’re just focusing on the feathers instead of the date and that’s how you wind up ordering the Chicken when you REALLY just wanted the steak!

See!?
See what I mean!?
Now I want more chicken.
So, in short, dating is fucking terrifying, I want more chicken, and women are the perpetual motion machines of humanity, because you help slap the stupid out of men. Also, my cat has a furry monoboob… need to get that thing checked out.

Dear Amy, here’s all the things I want to say to you.

This is to a woman I’ve dated for around 7 months with no progress… And I’m not going to hold back.
Dear Amy,
You want to know the reason i’m not really talking to you?
It’s not because of your family.
It’s not because of you (Partially).
Actually, no, check that last ones… Every conversation we have online turns into you talking about how crappy your life is because you feel alone.
We all feel alone, that’s why we try to hang out with people we think have common interests.
Unfortunately, you tend to take everything and make it about you…. so, fun! This is conjunction with the fact you have a thing about long messages (which by far are more convieniant than short messages leaving me with a puzzled look on my face about what exactly it is I’m supposed to infer from the words, “Nope, I’m fine now.” apart from the following:
“I’m fucking with your head, because you wouldn’t talk to me when I wanted to talk to you but you were busy then, and now that you’re free to talk, I don’t want to talk to you.”
how is this supposed to get me to understand anything, it’s like you take every bit of advice from jokes and memes clearly not meant to be taken seriously, and while I do applaud your forwardness, calling me an asshole for just wanting to break away from my 20 year habit (I’m 34) of going from relationship to relationship, or straight on to dating, or saying something you don’t agree with, is just… .weird. And I’m not talking about anything major, it’s the littlest thing which can set you off on a tangent, and yay, great, lovely.
Whatever.
the fact of the matter is I don’t have the patience I used to.
More over, I told you I loved you annnnnd nothing, just straight on to the next clump of sadness you needed to unload. I get wanting to take your time, but my attraction to you has it’s limits, and if I’m not getting anything in return, nevermind the physical, ’cause outside of me giving you a back massage, there was nothing.
I got you nearly 150 bucks in christmas gifts, there wasn’t a thank you.
I was checking my account to see if I had enough for the rest of the week for expenses, gas money, rent, and you told me not to worry about it.
I asked straight up if you loved me back emotionally, and you basically said nope.
So, why then, should I bother continue to date someone if it’s just going to be a one way thing?
Why should I continue to bother wondering if there’s any possibility of ANYTHING happening when the closer I think We getting to that goal line, the harder you make it for there to even be an ‘Us’?
Shit happened, crappy relationships, douchebag friends, I got that, no need to go into detail,and most importantly:
You were going into nursing, studying the crap out of the subject, you showed me your workbook, and it was filled to the brim with notes, answers, references, and it showed you poured your heart into the subject, but when you got the opportunity to knock it out of the park, you let the words of some idiot teacher and a few bitchy women get in the way of you succeeding and decided instead to go for other jobs.
far be it from me to lambast you for choosing how to live your life, but at the same time, dear fucking god, woman, wtf?
So, I’m done, I’m taking a break, and this part has nothing to do with you, I’m finally taking a break for my own benefit, why, you ask?
Because for so long I’ve let my self confidence be determined by if I have a girlfriend or not, and that’s not a healthy way for ANYONE to live.
I need to have self confidence based on my own level of self esteem, nothing else.
Again, this part has nothing to do with you, even though you’ll think it definitely does, because yeah, that’s a thing.

Dear Donald John Trump, you sack of shit.

Side note to my followers:
1. This isn’t directed at you.
2. I really am going to send this.
3. I get distracted incredibly easy.
4. I’ve never liked Trump, even before he became a household name. And sold shitty steaks. And declared bankruptcy 13 times.
5. All you are awesome in your own unique ways, and I really do appreciate you all.

UPDATE: I ended up not sending it. Just feels good to write. No matter how I feel about the man, I must… blah blah blah morality and all of that.

Dear Donald “Mushroom Dick” Trump,
First off, fuck you.
Secondly, fuck you harder.
Thirdy, fuck you with a rotating cactus at 10,000RPM.
You are a fucking disgrace, you abhorrent, psychotic, bed wetting, sociopathic, tax hiding, shit faced, no name, low rated, used car salesman mime fucker. I’m sorry, that would be an insult to Mimes, cause at least Mimes know when to shut the fuck up.
Hell, do you know how much virulent anger, and dislike I have for you? Not enough dislike that I’m gonna watch the world burn, but enough dislike to write out the word dislike three or four times, and I’ve already lost the thread, because how quickly I smell raisin bran, why do I smell raisin bran?

Holy shit, am I having a stroke?
I mean, does over caffeination lead to strokes?
I’m not even focused on the blog post anymore, right now I’m just trying to figure out just what the fuck is going on with my body, unless the dog farted and yeah, I know that blaming it on the dog is cliche as all fuck, you tanned escaped offspring of a bath salts addicted oompa loompa and a moldy as fuck cheetoh, but right now, the world and I have more important things to worry about, as I sit here, caffeinated out of my gourd, writing a semi distracted insult blog post to you, you fat cod swallow of a human being!

Just what the fuck was I angry about anyways?
It feels like I don’t have the reserve of deep swelling anger that I used to, I wonder why that is, I mean, it’s kind of like how you used to think you had a regular sized dick, and then reality proved otherwise, by having your face next to the definition of the word “Nanopenis” Because Micropenis was still large large a scope for you.
At least I can say without a doubt that I am very sorry I ever searched up Multipenis in googles image search, because you can’t unsee that bullshit, and HOW DOES THAT MAN MASTURBATE!?
Good god there are so many unanswered questions related to that guy. When he gets erections, does it look like, I dunno, some kind of fleshy dick based porcupine attached itself to his crotch and never let go!?

I’M TRULY SORRY FOR THIS LINE OF THOUGHT, BUT GOD DAMN IT, THESE ARE QUESTIONS THAT GOD ITSELF NEEDED TO HAVE US DISCOVER! Trump, like the multipeni’d man, you are a mushroom dicked freak of nature that somehow continues to function like a racist piece of shit that you are, and I’m back! I’m sorry, I had to just run that track till I got back to where I was going, and then I was happy again, because hey, progress right?

Anyways, I want a taco, not your problem, you ball of cancerous tumors interlocked into the somewhat distinct shape of a man, but… I really want some tacos.

Intelligent Title for a dumb fucking post.

Now that we’ve cleared up the intent of this thing, let’s make one thing perfectly clear, I’m a dumbass, and you’re a dumbass. By which I mean, there are things about which we know plenty, things in which we know not so much, and things in which we know absolutely nothing at all.
It’s all right, there’s nothing wrong with that, especially since 95% of our knowledge base comes from shouty, day glow traffic cones pretending to be something they aren’t. Fuck you donald Trump.
That being said, it’s been a minute, I’ve not found any time to make a quick post, or put some serious thought into what I’d like to talk about. And drunk blogging is out of the question as well, since no matter what, the quality of my works is just going to be crap when drunk blogging. There’s literally nothing of quality in those things. And I think I ACTUALLY included them in the book I … Don’t think I published. there was a shit ton of work put into the book, and for some fucking reason, it just up and vanished on me. Along with several hundred other little projects i had going on at one point or another.
I dunno, sometimes I think having a job is the greatest thing in the world, because money, and being able to afford things, and other times, I’m like, great, this shit again. because as hard as I work? I can never seem to get ahead, like, it’s the strangest thing in the world. Last week I was at a 104% rate, which was great, but my dailys are sucking ass, 95,81, 84, nothing above a hundred unless I’m caffeinated out of my fucking gourd and just completely in my Zen state of being… kind of frustrating. But it ALWAYS comes down to numbers, not the struggles, not the advancements, not anything.
“If you don’t make those numbers, just going to be one of those days!”
The bottom line is always more important than the needs of the individual, which is kind of sad when you get down to it, but at the same time, one of the tips that I learned from a PA, was to not let this job define who you are.
But it’s kind of hard to do when you don’t know who you were to begin with. Or maybe it’s just the motion of it all, the way things could and often do change at any point in time, and you just have to go with the flow, which is a mentality that I’ve adopted many times over the course of my life!
I got distracted and forgot what the fuck I was writing about, I know that to you, it’s just a millisecond between paragraphs, but I’ve spent the better part of ten minutes trying to dry my hands and figure out why my hands still kind of felt like crap. I don’t know why, maybe it’s just a thing of mine, but I fucking hate distractions, they’re… just so unneeded, just stay focused on the goal, and work towards that end… i’m sure whatever it was I was going on about had some importance to it… Maybe, it’s hard to tell anymore.

Working at Amazon is a bit… interesting.

Yes, I’m gonna bitch a little about Amazon, just some much needed stress relieving, that’s all. I still love you BABEH! Anyways, one fucking thing that bugs the utter shit out of me is the popping of bubble wrap. There’s piffing, and then there’s people that squeeze the fucking shit out of that stuff like there’s both crack and money inside of it.
And, I get it, I really do! Trust me, Popping bubble wrap is fucking amazing, almost like having an orgasm and it’s literally a fucking release of air. But then again, you have the asshats that stare at you WHILE they’re popping the stuff, like, really dude?
Are you trying to tell me something? Am I going to be sleeping with the fishes? Am I part of a bubble wrap based civil war and you know what’s really going on? Did the PA’s tell everyone to just stare me, right in the fucking eyes while you slowly squeezed the shit out of the poor thing, only relenting after that oh so satisfying POP? I mean really, if you want to give me a hug, go for it, just…. just don’t treat me like you do the bubble wrap every chance you get, because… well, there’s another way of ending the bubble wraps pathetic existence.
Stabbing it with the box cutter, and the piff noise is so much more depressing. Because it almost sounds like something screaming their last, and I’m thinking to myself, “OH GOD YES!” because when the bubble wrap wars start between the Poppers and the Piffers? box cutters will be the unfortunate victims of their own hubris!
And I’ve forgotten what theu tter fuck I was talking about, sorry, random booger or something, I dunno.
Working at Amazon is easy enough.
The works easy.
Pay’s amazing.
So what’s the biggy?
i’ll tell you.
The fucking Rate system they have in place, and it’s fucking ridiculous.
Okay, when I first started working there, the rate was around 319 items, and that’s reasonable, right? Because we’re there for about 8 hours normal and 10 hours if there’s MET, and 12 hours if we vote for the 4/10, which I guess is cool, but it all averages out, I’ll have to check the latest numbers, but you get the idea, right?
Anywho, so there’s a group rate and an individual rate, not saying fuck it, ers has the individual rate, and vegantarians have the group rate, and we have to hit those numbers on the daily, between 65% and 100% is the magic number, and those dailies average out the weekly, but the way the numbers are crunched is based around three different theories, but they all mean the same thing:
1. Size of the box scanned
2. Recieving V Sorting
3. Number of scans total

So using those three things, they knock out the number, and it’s not an issue. The issue is that what we receive is usually a mix throughout the day, and I’ve begun noticing a pattern, in the beginning is mostly receive, towards the middle is a 50/50, and towards the end is mostly sort.
Not to mention there’s a thing called cherry picking, which is when people only take the boxes that are good and large numbers, which fuck the rest of us over. Because from what I’ve heard, the higher ups both condemn and silently promote cherry picking at the same time depending on how it’s affecting the bottom line. Not to mention it fucks the rest of us over.
There’s an easy way to fix this, and I’ve mentioned it to the higher ups, make a group rate based on the overall Sort/Receive of an entire line, therefor eliminating the Cherry Picking situation all together, because no matter the box picked, it all goes towards the Line Rate, and everyone gets to do their thing.
There are also those that like to scan something, then talk for minutes on end, then scan something again just to keep that TOT timer from screwing them over. Whihc, hey, more power to them, but at the same time, not only does that screw their rate over, it fucking slows down the amount of work getting done. we’re there to work, not chit chat about shit that doesn’t matter. If it affects how much work you’re getting done throughout the day in a negative fashion, fucking don’t do that shit. No place for it.
because when they don’t do THEIR work, we end up having to carry their asses. And the FC’s only a year old, so the higher ups are still trying to optimize the best ways to make everything work together. Another thing that feeds into the cherry picking is the individuals strength. Because you got the following ages groups:
18 to 29 – these guys and gals kick ass all over the place, but there IS a habit of spending more time talking than working.
30 – 49 – my age bracket (I’m 34), we tend to be a bit more focused on our work, not talk so much, and knock out the majority of the things the 18 – 29 miss.
49 – 69 – they tend to talk and cherry pick because their strength ain’t what it used to be. In a way, it does make sense, but it’s still doing a thing that goes against the grain.

Anyways, I’m starting to spin my wheel just a bit, so I’ll end it on a positive note, the higher ups are always taking feedback, ideas, and other things to their higher ups, and in turn trying to figure out the best way to make those things happen.

Worker placement is also a thing, but meh, not interested in writing this anymore. Anyways, just wanted to knock something out, have a good one!

Fuck you Donald John Trump and everything you do.

Trump’s a bitch tart.

Dear Treasonous Trump,

You sack of shit. You utter fucknutted bitch tart. You sickly looking, shit filled, no good, rotten, scoundrel of a human being. you should be tried, charged, drawn and quartered, but just enough so that you’re still living (barely) and drug through a path of broken glass and salt.
You want to know how I really feel? That’s it. i fucking hate you Trump, and not because of 2016 (well, mostly for that, but there are other reasons as well, I mean, come on, 2016 was 2 years ago, right? SO SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT IT.) you annoy the utter crap out of me you son of a bitch, and for those politisnobs out there wondering the exact reason? fuck off! i don’t have to give an exact reason, there’s no exact reason for wanting a treasonous son of a bitch out of office and in the execution room filled with crack addled, razor toothed chihuahuas while wearing nothing but a Santa outfit made of drugs and raw meat!

There’s just justification for the incredible amounts of fucking shit that the assfucks been putting everyone through, and everything that I’ve stated FROM DAY FUCKING ONE IS COMING THE FUCK TRUE SO THE GLOVES ARE OFF YOU ORANGE FACED ROTTED DISTENDED TESTICLE LOOKING MOTHERFUCKER! Because in the end? Trump didn’t even matter after all, everything he’s ever done has fallen the fuck apart, and hwile there are great people on both sides of the dumbass spectrum, this motherfucker is king of them all! It’s like he doesn’t give a shit, yeah, he’s trying, but not hard enough.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got friends and fam that’re trump supporters, they’re great people, love’em to pieces.

I just really fucking hate Donald john Trump with a burning passion that makes me want to light some fireworks I guess, like, I really didn’t KNOW where I was going with that one, just lost my train of thought on ye old “Fuck Trump”  train.

I’m not giving any quarter to that fat assed, tiny sausage fingered little bastard, because he’s an utter fuck nutted shit brained, piece of ass fart who’s only stupid racist goal in his entire pathetic existence is to eek out an existence as an organ monkey looking for crack filled peanuts with the efficiency of a dumbass named Trump. IS there anything he’s done that I agree with?
Are you fucking with me right now? Did you NOT SEE THE TITLE OF THIS POST? It’s not called, “Fuck you DJT” because  I’m getting him a birthday card and was wondering whether or not to get him some birthday cake along with the egregious amount of shit I’m giving him, and the truth hurts, people, the truth hurts, but Mueller’s is going to fuck his shit up with the efficient of a god damned nuke going off in a fishbowl and there ain’t nothing anyone can do about it, not whitman, not sessions, that keebler elf looking fuckbag.

I’ve been so fucking silent on this whole thing, because I wanted to see how things were going to play out, andp lay the fuck out they did, because god damned, the soap opera that’s become out current president has become so fucking ridiculous that it makes me wonder if Stan Lee, before he passed away, in his great amazing wisdom, created the first true to life Super Villain and made him a complete fuckbag and sent him into the office. Because the only cameo that this motherfucker has going for him is a permanent place in hell, (Donald John Trump, not Stan Lee. Stan’s is in heaven, making the best damned comics the universe has ever see. RIP buddy, gonna miss ya.) Trump can suck my fat sausage, because that shit stain of a russian bitch is nothing more than everything I made his greasy fuckface out to be, a god damned traintor to these United States of America, and Treason is the reason of the season bitches, and it’s coming out in ALL THE FLAVORS OF THEM OTH, IVANKA, JARED, ERIC, DUMBASS JR. everyone of those little bastards is going to hell in one way or another, (Except Baron, that kid’s got good things coming to him, nothing against the little dude.)

Okay, nuff of this, gotta get ready for work, Morgan’s Mindcicles everybody, new and improved, and about damned time.

Writing can be harsh with a broken heart.

Self motivation is what keeps me going, self motivation to punch through whatever is slowing me down, selfm otivation to prove that I can knock something out each and everyday, even if it’s just adding a little bit more to the part I’m working on. It’s tough, harsh, and unbelievably hard to pull off, but somehow each day, with a cup of joe and a blaring playlist of Happy Hardcore music, i’m able to get both a little ifction written, as well as a blog post about whatever the fuck I’m feeling at the moment.

And at the moment? i’m feeling great… Not really. I’m stuck in a quagmire of slow thoughts turned exhaustion, I write about being tired, I become tired, bored, and start to yawn, and there goes the day.

I’m punching through this as much as i possibly can, because how else am I going to get through writing. To me, at least, the worst enemy you can have is yourself. Because, as you know, your own brain is actively working against you every step of the way, trying to slow you down, trying to make you sluggish in whatever you try to accomplish, and right now, my brain is slowly but sure tryng to keep me from accomplishing my goals. Which can be an incredib;ly frustrating feeling.

Especially when you’ve got a book of blogs and other things to knock out which I will. I’m tired of not working on that thing, I’m tired of not pulling though on the one thing that’s been haunting me for such a long time. And yes, It is a very dull, boring, and exrutiating process, and I sometimes think I won’t be able to stand on my own two feet, but god fucking damn it, I need to make this happen, I don’t want to be stuck at my parents house forever, and it’s incredibly draining on my self confidence, because I’m feeling up then down, and it fucks with you, it truly does screw with your head.

I know I can get through this massive headache, i know that it’s just a matter of time before something launches me forward in life, and I NEED to start writing about what’s going through my mind instead of just dancing around the topic like I’m afraid of what the consequences are going to be. Yeah, posting on Facebook can be lethal because of FB politics, but at least here? Here, oi can roar to the mountains and back about whatever the fuck is own my mind and try my damndest to get through the day.

Motivation is key in anything we do, and it’s only those moment where we falter that we’re truly happy for what we’ve accomplished with our lives. I need that happiness more than ever right now! not that i’m complaining, well, fuck it, I am, I’m not going to sit idly by and let others just roar whatever the fucks going on in THEIR lives and cast me into the fucking flames of perdition to whomever the fuck they want and i’m just stuck here like I’m useless and powerless to say whatever the fuck I need to to get through the dya, I need to vent, I need to destress, and right now?

donald Motherfucking Trump is a cuckolded dumpster fire on wheels, that shit stained motherfucker is screwing everything up and NO I don’t need to post specifics, because why the fuck would I do something incredibly boring as point out hte fucking prom baby abortion he has been to our allies and enemies! I Donald trump is the kind of guy that would fuck his own daughter than separate her from the family, just so no one can claim incest.

donald trumps a fucking traitor to this country, I don’t give two fucking shits what you think or feel, the mother fucker is treasonous and we all know, the Republican party just won’t admit to shitting on the floor because they know that the moment they do, the fucking moment they DO, that their chances of getting another Republican in office just slimmed down faster than a starving kid in the fashion industry.

fuck you, you know that shits real, and that’s why it’s so god damned dark.

Donald trump is the abortion the country needs to happen. Let me rephrase that, the country needs to have an abortion and remove this fat, orange, tantrum throwing, pants shitting, face rash having shit bag forcibly removed from office as fast as fucking possible!

And no, I’ve stated this in the past, if the fucktard hadn’t been in bed with Putin, and he’d run an honest campaign, and hadn’t shit all over himself on Twitter, then maybe MAYBE THE 80% OF THE COUNTRY WOULDN’T BE PISSED OFF!

I repeat. Stupid Teens piss me off.

There’s this twitter group chat I was pulled into that I wanted nothing to do with. Called The Spooky jungle 2. Three Teens, all 17, looking at me like I was a god damned hero. Well, I’m an adult, and I’m all the fucking wiser, turned out, all their praise and ‘Yay! You’re you!’ was just to get a rise out of me, just calling me babe was a fucked up way of trying to get me pissed at them. Well, ya know what? I didn’t care, I was focused on getting books written and published and I’m not the same idiot I was way back when, before I tried getting into the Navy. I’m smarter, busier, chiller. And these kids were doing their damnedest to try and piss me off, but ya know what?

I didn’t let em. there was this one idiot, I forget his name, he was a forgettable piece of shit, and mind you, all of this took place on Twitter. I hate stupid people, and more importantly, I really fucking hate stupid teens that end up pissing me off for one reason or another. You want to know why? Especially on the internet, I had spent a good couple of hours helping these little fucking idiots out with all their stupid drama and problems and how do they thank me?

They start hammering on me like I’m just some dumb ass, calling me a fuckin’ meme, like that’s supposed hurt my fucking feelings? Bitches, I’m a motherfucking Living Meme, you calling me a meme is like saying the blue shit above our fuckin’ heads is called a sky!

No fucking shit I’m a meme, ya don’t think I know that? They kept calling me their sugar daddy, which I wanted no fucking part of and to be honest, their YouTube channel was fucking shit anyways. According to them, the only way to get anywhere in life is to be an annoying shit bag filled with dicks, or at least that’s their approximation of it anyways. These motherfuckers kept pinging me on twitter like I was their lord and savior, I’m sorry.

No, No I am fucking not. If anything I’m an easily irritated man who put up with their stupid BS because hey, they called me friend! Boohoo fucking them. So, after they get all weepy eyed because I ain’t playing their game, after I gut whatever piss and shit filled pants drama they were going after, after all I fucking do for them, they turn out to be just regular fucking shit bag teens, like I said, there are smart, good teens that know their asses from a hole in the ground and then there are the fucking assholes doing the tide pod challenge as if their Social Standing on Instasmackedface needed it. These little fuckheads, were exactly the second category.

Look, I can understand wanting to get to know me, that’s cool and all, but when you go and turn ass hurt over me not talking to you over the course of a few days, that’s when I know your parents didn’t smack ya hard enough when you did something stupid in their presence.

I ain’t going soft here, if anything, I’m still very much pissed, parents need to control these little shit bags on tighter leashes and prevent this kind of bullshit from happening. I’m not going to go back to being friendly after you spend an entire four hours pinging a group chat on twitter calling me a fuck head because I’m not playing the role you assigned me ya stupid club penguin playing piece of shit!

I honestly can’t stand that type of needling shithead, I really can’t! so what? I’m not doing shout out videos for anyone anymore, but you know what? I’m a fucking human being with feelings, and if the underdeveloped logic center of your tiny, fucking, idiotic brain can’t handle the fact that I’ve got better shit to do than heed to the whiny, bitchy, ignorant, crying pants shitting that you and your stupid fucking idiot teen friends on twitter are currently crying about, so the fuck what?

Boo fucking hoo, Kim kardashian liked a photo of a former friend of yours, but didn’t like your own!? OH THE FUCKING WORLD IS ENDING BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T GET YOUR WAY! Well, lemme call Dr. Fucking Phil and we can have ourselves a fucking pow wow and get all touchy feelly with whatever Hot Topic based emo bullshit you’re going through!

Fucking ay… These stupid fucking teenagers… Yeah, I could rip on Millenia’s, but why bother? Every stupid idiot trend they set, they’re paving the way for the future. But when 16 year old Becky Whogivesafuck from Idontgiveashit creates a new design for earbuds!? OH MY GOWD, LEMME SNAPCHAT THE SHIT OUT OF THAT FUCKING NEWS BECAUSE NO MATTER WHAT, THAT’S GOING TO MAKE THE FUCKING HEADLINES FOR GOOD DAY LA OR WHATEVER THE SHIT NEWS PROGRAM currently has a case of the fucking happy feelly get #metoo’d right in the face!

I’m not sorry at all. I’m very much still ticked about the whole entire situation and while I can understand the irony of me bitching about stupid teens on the internet being stupid fucking teens, there’s a line I usually draw in the sand, a huge line. I don’t care for the idiotic memes, I don’t care for the reckless idiocy, I don’t fucking care about whatever fucking beef is being had by whatever two music idols that can’t fucking sing without a fucking iphone attached to whichever of a thousand genders is going down I don’t fucking care about any of it.

My thing is this, you treat me nice, I treat you nice. We’re friends till you start being a shit heel towards me. “Look at your YouTube channel!” What about my YouTube channel? Are you going to point out anything specific or are you going to leave the insult half finished like whatever stupid fucking idiocy is running through your heads at the moment!?

I long suspect that no. Teens today think that a question is an insult. They think that eye rolls are insults. They think that asking questions, regular questions, or telling you to look at something, is a fucking insult. It is not. It’s just a fucking question or a direction to look at something, that’s pretty much all it fucking is! You see the Kardashiwhogivesashits point at the camera man going, “Ugh, look at your ankles, you’ve got weird ankles!” Well, I wouldn’t put it past them to try something stupid like that. Because in the age is fuck headed ass monkeys, there are no bigger fuck headed ass monkeys like some of the teens or young adults on twitter i get to put up with.

Another great example is when I tweet something that i believe in, and then you have a fucker that constantly, at every possible moment in fucking time, decides to reply with some stupid shit! Example:

@MorganGavin

Today is going well!

Reply by @fuckfacemcgregtard

Yeah, but I’m going to jail!

My initial response used to be: Well, okay then. Still a nice day.

My response now is: You did something to deserve it you stupid shit bag!

Look, the process for all forward growth is conflict. Without conflict, competition, and survival of the fittest, we wouldn’t have good people and shit heels. If you’re a good person, good for you, I already like you. If you’re a shit heel, go fuck yourself, never blemish my day with your very shadow, ya shady as fuck idiot. God damned… feels good to get this off my chest.

I’m not focused.

I’ll have a thought, and poof! It’ll be gone! I used to be this way a lot more, but that was when I was drinking redbull, which I am right now! Just a shit ton of the stuff! I don’t care if this gets hits or not, most of my stuff doesn’t anyways, but hey! That’s the beauty of blogging anyone can write a bunch of stuff, and if it gets known!
Fuck yeah!
Just fuck yeah! and the struggle kind of continues!

Lately I’ve been doing a shit ton of streaming on Liveme, and it’s pretty fun, starting to grow a regular fan base, running out of ideas though. but it’s just really strange,, as there are a bunch of weird people on there, and it kind of freaks me out just a bit. But hey, anything to grab those diamonds, BTW if  you grab four million something odd of them, you get 20K for all your hard work, but you can only withdraw 600 a day, which, granted, is fair, but at the same time, you have to fucking grind every single day of every single hour, and it can get exhausting! I mean, I only do it for a few hours, but there are peeps out there that just get that shit done like no tomorrow! and yeah, my minds a bit scattered among the fucking hundreds of different projects I have to complete, but eventually, I’ll get them done! and published!

And then I can get them into the “DONE WITH THIS BULLSHIT” folder that I have set up, because there is a bunch of it and I am just frustrated as all hell with the whole writing thing. And the discord thing, about ready to just delete the server and move on from it, but people love it, and if they’re inactive, great, fine, dandy, I’m not going to spend valuable time trying to keep together something that keeps breaking worse and worse, can’t really trust the mods not to fuck things over. But I guess everyone just joined as a joke and when shit just went wrong repeatedly, fewer and fewer of them came back. Which, you know, is fine, it was a thing I enjoyed doing, and now…
Not so much. I guess it really depends on what’s on my mind over time. If it get’s to be too much, I can always just hand it over and be like, “Bro, done with this bullshit.” Because I kind of am, it’s lost it’s luster for me, and I always need to have something in front of me that interests me or else I just plain as hell get bored with it. Are there groups of people that’d like t’see that thing get deleted, they’re sure are! Will I just let the thing float there like a bloated corpse? Meh, why not. If people join, they join, and I’m a bit over trying to maintain it myself.

But people love it, so who am I to try and screw up their happiness. I’ve actually made so many friends from it, but at the same time, it’s just a chillaxed server, really is. I get lonely at times, and than I start bitching about things that I’m either ticked at or have no use for anymore. but that’s just how it goes, day after day. Did you know that I got 30 bucks for helping my mom out at her second to last day? Seriously, 30! Woot! that’s more money  than I’ve made doing youtube for 12 fucking years! And now i’m trying my hand at live streaming?

I’m already up to 45K likes, but the real challenge is getting them diamonds, that’s where the hell it’s at! but there’s so much micromanaging of the small details! Dear god! you’ve got to keep track of a lot of bullshit for a long time and mimic what others are doing! but I am making a name for myself, which is… Great I suppose, all i have to do is keep my nose to the grind stone and burn that fucking data! that’s great if I had a fucking job that payed regularly, but for the most part, I just make pennies on the dollar and i can’t even get game play footage anymore because I fucking gave my second ps3 away like a fucking dumb ass! Because you want to know what’s a great idea to follow through on!? Every single fucking thing I’ve ever done in my fucking god damned life because what the fuck!? What the fuck!? Seriously, I’m asking you!

But than again, no one’s going to leave a comment because who the fuck cares about answering some basic fucking questions on a blog? Seriously, if people do answer, it’s usually some ass twat making a smart ass comment or bringing up the fucking past or anything like that! I’m just sick and tired of being treated like a fucking curiosity, like, “Oh, look Martha, there’s a monkey flinging poo!”
“Yes Reginold, how quaint!”

Are you fucking kidding me!? I feel like every time I get two steps ahead, some fucking dumb ass harasses me about Kimberlee ann Kelly! And I really don’t want to talk about her! I don’t! I’ve written all I could from every angle about the woman, and that name haunts me to no end!

The Curse of Kim decides and deems that I’m not ready for even the stupidest of interactions because some ass twat on the net has fucked me over. When did I get so fucking ridiculous!? Did I really think this fucking plan of mine was going to work out!? Did i!?

god fucking damn it I’m so pissed about a bunch of things that don’t make any sense, and for the first time in a long time, I’m venting my frustrations because I can barely hold a fucking thought of action for long enough time before fucking off, and hoping to god someone else holds my fucking hand, because what the fucking hell else am i going to do with my fucking time!?

I could go insane, yeah, that’d work wonders, and prove my grandparents right about their intonation that I need to be S.E.D. from the age of fucking FIVE YEARS OLD BECAUSE I WAS TALKING LIKE THE OTHER KIDS MY FUCKING AGE! God fucking damn it! I’m raging right the fuck now because my life is an eternally revolving door of fucking bad luck! Whoopi!

Um…. What was I talking about again? I forget… today I had some pizza and walked home, so it was a pretty great day!

Somedays are better than others.

I can’t stand it. I pretend to, but I’m just too frayed at the nerves to do it anymore. I hate living here. Not just in the high desert, but with these people. One person especially. Everyday, every single one of the past four days, I’ve grown to hate that person just a little bit more. Grown to not respect them just a bit everyday. I am tired of pretending to care about their problems as if they were my own. Their voice is a grating sound that become vicious, spiteful, controlling, and full of unwarranted paranioa.

There are times when she’s talking… Shouting about something to me, that I don’t listen passed the second or third thing she says. I’m a nice man by nature, really, I am. But I’ve stopped being fearful of her scorn, if you can call it that. Though there are days when it gets to be too much, that she takes offence at the littlest thing, where even my patience is broken. I shout back, she gets louder, I get louder, she gets in my face, and just from reflex I flinch, just a little bit.

For some reason, she takes this as aggression towards her and snaps at me. After which, I just stare blankly back into her pupils till she breaks eye contact.

I don’t know how much more of this stress I can take. She’s angry about something almost everyday, mostly my fault, but it’s gotten to the point where I just avoid her when I can.

Avoid the source of stress and you’ll be happy. Hard to do when you start the day off happy and by the end of it you want to scream your fucking head off. But I stay quiet, calm, cheerful till I’m alone. Then, and only then, do I let all the stress pour in and take it all in one nasty gulp of sour dissappointment.

Thats it for now. More later.

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