What The Hell Is The Matter?

It seems as if I'm having a hard time getting excited about anything lately. If someone could please tell me why, it would greatly appreciated. Please, someone share with me the fruits of their wisdom. Why is that I tell myself, "ok, Sean, today you're going to go school, and be happy all the time" and it sounds like a wonderful plan to me. Unfortunately, as is always the case nowadays, I get to school and just can't get enthused about anything! I come home, am forced to sit in front of a damn computer to tell someone how much I care about them when I could just as easily do it over the phone. But it must be easier to multi-task when you have free range of motion. Come on. It's just really tough sometimes to be excited about anything anymore. For one, I can't vote. It's nice to keep up on that fool Howard Dean, or that wacko Kucinich, but I can't vote. Come on. Half of the adults today care ten times less than I do, and they have the right to vote. Do they? Nope. How could you wave the right that millions of people don't have. Do they not realize how privileged we are? Do they not realize that people died to give us this right - this right that we so absent-mindedly waste? Ok, secondly, I haven't seen my girlfriend in about two weeks. The truth is, I miss her - desperately. I can't remember the last time we got together to watch a movie. I see her in the halls, yeah, for 30 seconds. I hope you all don't get the wrong impressions from me. Sure, I miss her, but I would, I know way, ask her to re-prioritize to put me on top of the list. I would never do that, it's just frustrating when she's so busy, and I'm not. I'm never busy, so it just emphasizes the fact that she's not here. Why? Because I spend a lot more time on my ass thinking about it. That's why. It's gotten to the point where I'll find myself doing weird things just to get my mind off it. It's pretty bizarre, but no one really seems to care. Who can I tell? "Hi, can I shovel your driveway? Yeah, I miss my girlfriend, and I need to get my mind off the loneliness. No? Ok, thanks anyway." Pretty pathetic. However, I do get the opportunity to "chat it up" on AIM. Big f*ckin whoop. Yeah, it's nice, and horribly convenient, but it's really impersonal. I really don't like having to wait until 11:00 pm on a Wednesday night to say "I miss you" to my girlfriend. But she doesn't really like to talk on the phone. I don't either, but I'd talk a mile a minute if I could get away from this piece of crap machine. It just does nothing for me anymore. Oh well. I guess I'm made to adapt. I've done it thus far, but never in such concentrated a setting.

I'll just push on. It's worth the while.

Somebody Shoot Me, Yeah, Right There - In the Face

Today was so like, blah, I had a hard time like keeping my head on straight. So like I woke up at around, um, six oh ten am, that's like the morning, and I heard like the rooster crowing and stuff! And so then I like fell out of my bed and landed on like this magical roller coaster. It was tubular! No, not like a tube! Like totally awesome! So, like, I road this LIKE roller coster all the way to like the end of this tonnel. And at the end of this tonnel I saw this brite lite. It was really brite. Trust me.

Oh my loving God. That was the hardest little piece I have ever had to write. You know the part that really bothers me? That's the vernacular of people today. "Yeah, baby, rite on." Excuse me, no. It's just not happening for me. I guess I'm not feeling the groove (but feeling that groove is like falling head first into the damn Grand Canyon - something I just don't want to do). Is it just me, or are the stupid youth of AIM allergic to vowels? Is there something glorious about consonants that puts them on the internet pedestal of glory? I like my vowels. Without vowels you wouldn't be able to spell my name, Sean, or such splendiferous words as Mississippi. Could you imagine saying Mississippi as Msssspp? How about no. But I digress. I'm talking about those stupid little morons who think it's cool to have not a single vowel in their screennames. Here's an example for the ages.."dbnzmstwntd24". What, in God's gracious name, is that? Without vowels, my friends, you have an uneducated slop-pile of letters - such as the one I have portrayed. Here's what it should be. "Dearborn's Most Wanted." Oh yeah, and the 24 (how could I forget). Just trying to pronounce that screenname, minus the vowels, is enough to cause the anxiety attack of the century - but ok, sounds good to me. I suppose I just don't understand what's wrong with using ALL of the wonderful letters we call our own. I mean, what's wrong with the random "E", or sometimes "Y"?

Absltly Nthng.

My Wonderful Day Off

Things got off to a great start today. I woke up at 6:30, laying in my bed like some newborn calf, and realized that I had a horribly sore throat - just the wake-up call I needed. So I moaned and groaned, and realized that my carpool (who's supposed to come earlytomorrow, not today), was idling in my driveway as I clammored out of my bed. My mom, as she was leaving our house to go to work, told them that I didn't need a ride until tomorrow, and that I was just getting up anyway. So I wander blindly to the shower, freeze my damn rump off, get out, dry off, stumble through putting my clothes on, and prepare to face the chilling cold that awaits me outside. And so, as this fine day is just beginning, I'm heading to school when my dad asks me how I feel, I try to be tough, say I'm doing good, but, being the good father that he is, turns around and takes me home. Ok, that part was good (and so were the five extra hours of sleep).

Let's jump ahead to roughly 12:45. I awake to find my mom hovering over me, saying something that sounds eerily like "you have a doctor's appointment in twenty minutes". WONDERFUL. Just the news I wanted hear. Ahh. Anyway, I get ready, go to the doctor, get my antibiotics, and my mom decides to tell the doctor about the tremors in my hands. PERFECT. In conclusion, this basically means I get a needle shoved into my vein, and have a good few milliliters of blood sucked out of my body, but really, it wasn't too bad - just kinda stuck in there with the swabs they shoved down my throat. But hey! I had the pleasure of enjoying a nice double quarter pounder! Oh! I also learned that I lost 12 lbs since the last time I was at the doctor, which was about september. That's really odd. I haven't changed any habits, but I weighed in at 158, as opposed to 170 the last time. Hmm?

Yep, well, that's my day...hope you had a great time..

The Roaming Gnome

Just to start, please pay no attention to the title of this entry. It has no bearing, whatsoever, on the content or meaning of this blog.

To start off (again), I'm just going to let all of you know that today was basically the culmination of the past two-weeks of suckiness. Yep, you heard correct! Piss on Sean's Wheaties Days has made a triumphant return! Why not join the countless Americans who felt it overwhelmingly necessary to make my life a living hell today! Ya know somethin though? Today's horrific tendencies weren't really clear-cut. It was as if some shadow had enveloped my mind, putting me in some state of incredible passiveness. Fun stuff. Yeah. Right.

Today in Playwriting (yes, I take playwriting, so don't even think about bashing it) my teacher told me to take five minutes to answer this question. "What you would say if you finally had the chance to say it?" That's some intense stuff, and most of you would probably say that I'd just litter the page with 'f' words and other vulgarities, but no. I'd like to think that I took advantage of the situation, letting my pencil do the talking - an ambassador to the mind. I'll just share what I wrote. Please, no one take this personally. It's directed towards myself, I think. Why? I have no idea. I guess I work in pretty odd ways. Ladies and gentlemen, here's what I'd say if I finally had the chance to say it....

Why is it so hard to just tell me how you feel? Can it hurt that bad? Is sucking it up just gonna make everything all better? Sure as hell hasn't worked thus far. I find it hard to believe, after seeing no initiative whatsoever to make us better, that things can be OK. You know what I think? I think you, no, WE, are afraid, as a couple, as individuals, of letting go. And somehow, through the freakish confines of our minds, we're doing ourselves favors by keeping it all in. How the hell is that supposed to help anyone? How is PRETENDING to be happy supposed to justify not being happy? Well, it doesn't. You know the old cliche, you can't fit a square peg in a round hole, or however the hell that saying goes. I'm just trying to say that it's worth the risk to tell me how you feel. The truth should never be some menacing villain that forces us to hide behind lies for protection. Hell, know I'm guilty as charged. I'd lie to someone to make them feel good, is that healthy? Am I so afraid of the truthful repercussions? I think so. I seriously and honestly think so. Is it wrong to fear the truth? Is it at all beneficial to hide behind the "protection" of lies, of faked smiles to beget a smile? I just don't know.

Wasted Time

I just told myself I was going to sit here and write up a nice blog for all of you to enjoy. Well. I don't really want to anymore. Too bad.

Just Some Random Thought

I'm not sure if it's just some naive intuition of mine, or some widespread epidemic of my mind, but do you ever wonder if there are people on the exact same page as you? Sure, there are those you love, but are no two people exactly alike? Probably not. Sometimes I wonder if I'd get along with a version of myself. I would hope so, but something tells me that I'd have this yearning to just punch him in the face. Why? I have no idea. I can say this - it would be one of the most beneficial experiences ever, to hang out with yourself for a day. Primarily, it would give me someone else to judge, but this time, I could do something about changing that person. Secondly - well, there is no secondly. The primary reason is just about the only good thing. But that opportunity would be good enough to justify any other absence of reason. I could observe myself, take note of the things I like, and things I can't stand. I'm sure the latter would severely outweigh the former, but that's why it would be a learning experience. I could sit down with myself, have a coke, or a sandwich, and watch myself selfishly hog it all. I wonder if I really do that to people. I'd say that would suck.

Another thing I wonder about is perception. Are the people I know too nice to tell me how big of a moron I really am? I couldn't really tell ya if that would be good or bad. I know, I know, there are always gonna be people who don't like me, for whatever reason, but is that reason objective? What makes some people more tolerant of my little idiosyncrasies than others? I guess I could spend forever pondering these quirks of life and not gain any more ground than a one-man-army with a stick. Oh well. I guess life isn't always clear-cut. Some things are probably better left for discovering.

The Incredible Snowday

Some days are just more beloved than others. Right? It's that gut-wrenching anticipation, that long awaiting moment - and finally spotting your school along the news list of closings. It's that elated feeling of tumbling tiredly back to your warm, welcoming bed, and drifting gently back into a blissful dream. Ahh. There's nothing like it. It's waking up at ungodly hours of the night, clamoring to the window, and taking a child's expert guess at the amount of wintry wonder displayed before us. It's also depressing. Sorry for the sudden mood swing, but you'll see where I'm going. It's depressing to know that there's a point in life where snow is looked down upon. A point when people loathe the snow, and all the baggage it entails. But, I question them now. Yes, the snow gets dirty. Whoop-Dee-Doo. But, is that first few hours of freshly fallen snow so evil that it demands such negative attention? I should hope not. I hope I never come across the day where I would hold such feelings for snow. It just always bothered me to hear old, cranky fools gripe about the snow. Yeah, so what, it's a little inconvenience. Get over it. Just relax, take it easy, and carefully, and enjoy the snow for what it is - an escape from the cold, grey atmosphere of dry winter life. Don't believe me? Ok, on the next boring winter night, when there's no snow falling, and no fresh snow laying untouched on the ground, go outside, and gaze into the heavens. Not to my surprise, it'll be dark- and boring. Now wait for a night when the heaven's are open. A night when glorious flakes of purity fall easily to the earth. Look at the sky. Such a beautiful palette of colors was never known to the likes of Van Gogh, or Da Vinci, because such simplistically complex beauty cannot be recreated. It takes something of such natural clout, something as supreme as snowfall to paint the skies with such vibrant and lax colors. Just watch. The swirls and purple and pink, meshed gracefully with the purest hues of red and white, form a tapestry draped on the walls of the world. For that moment everything stops. For that moment, the universe is still, and all eyes are upon it. For that moment, everything works. I think that sky is reason enough to love the snow, regardless if school is cancelled. It's reason enough for me to pray that I never become some cynical old frog. And if I should, I openly ask all of you sock me a good one - I'd deserve it.

The Hunt For A Job

Ladies and gentlemen, and for all those just tuning in, we have on our hands the rarest of events. The Slothum Seaniferous, otherwise known as the "Lazy Sean" has ventured out of his typical comfort zone, which usually consists of a triangular pattern through his habitat. This triangle, for the uneducated, consists of the bathroom, located at stage one, the refrigerator system, stage two, and the lusciously stuffed couch, stage three. Such is the regularity and consistency of this pattern that Sean's immediate digression from routine is continuing to make headline news. Renowned for his overly lazy, parasitic ways, Sean has shed the reputation of old and sparked a renaissance, per se, for the others of his genus to experience. However, though several attempts at employment were made (or, at least considered) nothing is, of course, set in the proverbial stone.

As the day progressed, Sean was spotted roaming the grounds outside of his natural area, which we have queued up for you viewers at home, and he was approached by our daring and dashing reporter. Through several minutes of sheer mumbling, this was deciphered: "Job good. Need job." The remainder of the phrasage was garbled, and horribly mangled by the Sean's inability to naturally progress and evolve. It's just this fact that makes this such a vast and immeasurable leap into quite uncharted territory.

Well, that wraps up this segment of The Hunt For A Job, until next time.

Well, well. It's the obvious beginning of a new epoch in human existance. Sean has graced the blog world with his presence. Yes, it's true. The rumors are all true. I have contemplated, many a toilsome night, over the pro's and con's of such a decision. And, as I hope you all have come to witness, nothing less than perfection will be tolerated. Of course, I know the inevitable will occur - I will be brutally forced to deal with the hordes of adoring fans, but hey, it comes with the territory. Alas, we have arrived at goodbye. Dry you eyes, wipe those snot-filled noses, for I shall return, like a noble knight atop his steed, gracing these pages with my infinite wisdom.