CYOA! (Or: what's next) (also: goodtimes in chicago)

First: I always end up a little different/better at the end of the week. Thanks for the goodtimes, nerdfriends.

Now that that's settled, August is pretty clear of stuff to do so I'm going to get some projects done. The list includes:

-Cleaning my room (this is more of an adventure than you'd think)
-Yard Sale (related to above)
-html shenanigans

On top of all that, I haven't written in over a month (how depressing is that?!) and I want to start some sort of internet thing. But I haven't decided on what yet. I could:

-Actually do this blog thing
-Start a podcast (I've wanted to do this for a while)
-Do that visual novel thing (hopefully)
-Actually write

Also I definitely need to:

-spend time with my friends/maryam (cripes, guys, I'm sorry, after how little time I've been with you this summer it's a wonder you aren't mad at me D:)

In any case, I've got a month and a quarter until I hit college, in which I'll probably be ridiculously busy and have no time for any of this stuff. Let's get started!

Also, Scott Pilgrim is so amazing.

The Weekly-Ish PictureDump

I take a lot of pictures with my cell phone. Some of them are weird/crazy/interesting/totally deep man. I'll show a couple of those each week-ish if people are interested.































Found on the bottom of a wooden owl statue. I kind of want to know what they expect me to do with it.















O_O

You have the right to cut your hair.

There is something about police officers and me: they tend to shoot me angry or suspicious glances whenever I pass by or look at them, even when I say hello to them. They've even followed me as I walked around before, apparently suspcious that someone could enjoy walking around downtown by themselves. (Walking for air, walking to see?) Sometimes I scratch me head and wonder why exactly this seems to happen to me so often. Then I keep scratching my head, feel around a bit, and realize that I have long hair and a beard. Oh, right.


Most recently this happened in an airport restaurant. Two policemen were sitting at a table as we passed by. They smiled at my dad and then, I swear, suddenly turned angry when I and my brother, a fellow long-haired satan-worshipping rebellious evil democratic tree-hugger, looked at them. They probably thought we were terrorists. An understandable mistake; after all, my beard often tells me telepathically to go set fire to retirement homes and orphanages.

This even spills into meeting new people: I can't tell you how many times people have told me they've seen me skateboarding around town before. For the record, the last time I got on a skateboard I slid down a driveway hill and nearly ruptured my spleen. I have trouble balancing on a staircase, let alone a wooden deathtrap. (After the driveway incident, the police would find me an hour later and proceed to stare angrily at me.)

Of course, this begs the question: why do I keep my hair this way if I get such reactions...? I'll tell you why: because it's there.

Well, no, not really. I suppose it's some mix of personal expression, wanting to break some stereotypes, and the fact that my bowl cut many years ago was laughably bad (quite literally). Plus, I can act like the girl from The Ring, be emo on command, and keep warm during winter because of the giant mass of hair equivalent to having a fairly large ferret sitting on my head.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-CHAN-GES!

What with the presidential political season going on, I've been tuning into debates between candidates in which great men and women, along with cold fish and angry gnomes, present their stances on the pressing issues that face the nation today in their own words. (Or word.) For instance, take the Democratic ABC/Facebook debates that went on this past Saturday:



Clinton: [Definitively] Change.



Obama: [With passion] Change!



Clinton: [Facing Obama with a chastising look] Change.



Obama: [Facing Clinton and raising his tone slightly] Change!



Clinton: [Puh-leez!] Cha-hange!



Edwards: [Sort of a "you guyyys!!" voice] Chaaange!



Clinton: [Ignoring Edwards] Change!!



Obama: [With a cool air] Change.



Clinton: [Angrily] CHANGE!!



Richardson: Well, I wanted to discuss Darfur--



Obama: [Stares at Richardson.]



Edwards: [Stares with mouth gaping open.]



Clinton: [Angry stare at Richardson.]


[A Pause.]


Edwards: [Clears throat.] Change.


I think the moderator won.

I wanna be the guy!!

Okay. As I said, I'm going to attempt some sort of blog. Probably more of an editorial sort than "Will tells you about his day that totally amazing occurence that totally happened", though there may be a bit of that. I'm not really sure. I'll probably put some random writing stuff up here, too. Now, then, let's see if this thing lasts longer than two entries! I'm rooting for you, blog!

Coincidentally, comments are always nice. If there's an actual interest in something like this among you guys would you mind saying so? Plus if you would want to read a certain kind of thing. (will shows some poetry, will talks about the times, will makes fun of certain politicians, etc.)

Now, then: As Rebecca looks up tobacco parasites on the computer next to me, I will tell you why tobacco parasites are a lot like life.

Well, no, actually, I don't think I'll do anything special today. More of an intro. Plus, the short story I was going to post isn't on my thumb drive. So, instead, I'll get random people from my creative writing class to tell you why you should read this despite no evidence towards such a conclusion!

Rebecca: Let me make a quick comment on the life-cycle of the tobacco and tomato hookworm. At some point it's a larvae, and green, and kinda spiky, and alltogether nasty. By the way, Will is a pretty cool guy, and he's funny in a funny sort of way. So, yea. Vote for Will.*

Jeffrey: Blogs, schmlogs, they are places to post nonsense. But in this case, nonsense is full of sense. Why? Because Will is, well, he is, shhhhhhhhh, we all know. And so when he is lacking in stories and thumbs and drives. He comes up (thats what she said) with a creative idea of having idiotic people in his creative writing class post nonsense. Now thats sense. Have the writers write while (alliteration) he sits back and smokes his cigar and drinks his '47 bourbon. By the way, if you could see this bowtie, wow! Will is my watchman, he like "yo brett, i gotcho backyo!" and that is love. So, yea. Vote for Will. Because when you vote for Will, you vote for love, protection, and rocks in lakes. So, yea. Vote for Will.*

Calvin Coolidge: Will is good.

*Rock in Lake Party 08!

Wow, I made a blog.

"Suddenly, will was thrust into the blogosphere...."