Merry Halloween

It's dangerous to do this.

I'm tired, and I'm writing. That combination has never been a good one.
It's always resulted in blogs that are craving pity and bottomless support about how "you'll always be there for me and what not."

Don't get me wrong, I love hearing support from friends. Sometimes you just need to hear it. But it happens most often when I'm tired, putting off homework, and it's late/semi-late. I usually read it the next day and hate myself for writing it. I'm typically a little embarrassed, but I never delete it. I think I just don't give a damn when I'm tired, so I just let it all flow out. So it's probably a good thing in the end.

I haven't really "talked" in a long time. I feel like a lot has happened within me, and I really haven't acknowledged it, analyzed it. So while I should have been writing my research paper, I was browsing through my old xanga I haven't used in a year -and my old myspace comments.

There are two really bad habit I've had for the longest time. One is the fact that I can't get motivated about anything school related. I can't think of the last time I actually put my full effort into school work. I bet I would if my grades ever slipped, but I'm fine with A's and few B's. Besides some projects in Creative Writing, I feel like I've just been really lazy about everything. Ok, so I guess you would consider this Senioritis, but I've had the same habit for all of high school. Being obsessed with movies has really put a lot of stress on this habit. I'd much rather watch The Man Who Wasn't There than start on this stupid paper. Of course, I would. I feel like my motivation in life is narrowed down into a few things, film being one of them.

OK glad to get that out of the way. Next...the biggie


Much to your demise (I know), this is not about The Notorious B.I.G.

This is more self-loathing. Hey, I warned you...


Although I've only mentioned it to a few people in passing, you all know it. I'm socially inept, at times. It's strange really, unless I reallly know you, it takes a lot for me to say "hey" to you in the hallway or strike up a conversation when we're awkwardly sitting there alone. It's a pathetic habit, but it's really taken a toll on me.
For instance, I'll use an actual example of why this problem bothers me so much. When I first met Tory, I thought she was pretty cool, we became "myspace friends" and talked it up via commenting. But then once school started back up from the winter break, I would see her in the hallways and avoid her. We slowly had a falling out of "myspace friends" to "oh, he/she is on my friend list". Sorry to use the horrible cliche myspace reference. This same type of behavior happened a lot during the play production too. All of these people I knew, but didn't exactly know, I avoided without even saying hey (unless they said it first).
But the point of all of this is that I'm pretty sure I come off as a complete prick to these people. I mean I completely avoid them and knowing me, it's probably pretty obvious too. I don't dislike any of these people, I guess I'm just extremely self-conscious around new people. Once I'm comfortable around you, I'm myself.

Now that's the end of that.

Okay, well at the end of the night, I have no new additions to my research paper, a new blog, and lots of leftover candy (no one showed up this year!). I'd call that a good night.

Until next time,
Austin

"Hold the Cream" by Austin Dressman

The prompt was to create a character based off a few items. A Kiplinger's Magazine, The Nation Magazine, a Santa figurine, and a few other things I can't remember. John Miles is the character I made up with these items...


John Miles, slicked back his thick brown hair as he sat waiting for class to begin. He was paging through a recent “Kiplingers” magazine hastily until his attention was suddenly diverted to the entrance of the classroom. In walked the tall slender Jack Corey with his posse of friends, all yapping wildly about the new internship Jack had been accepted into at the prestigious Bard Brokerage, the most successful brokerage firm in the city. Getting an internship there guaranteed him a job in as a high ranking broker after school. John scowled as Jack took his seat near the front of the room. Jack’s scent of success reached John’s nostrils...Old Spice Body Spray. He was the envy of all the Business students. He was always winning all of the awards and scholarships. And now he had added one more to the list.
John scribbled something onto a piece of paper and shoved it into his pocket. He continued to stare two rows down at the back of Jack’s brunette head. John positioned himself in the way Jack was sitting, hands folded on his desk with his leg resting on his knee. He fiddled with his hair until it slightly resembled Jack’s. As Jack pulled out his notebook and blue pen, John had already had his out on his desk. He congratulated himself on his small victory over Jack.
As class began, the professor began dictating notes to the class. As John wrote, his glance was still fixated on Jack. He hurriedly wrote the notes, always trying to stay a few words ahead of Jack. Then the lecture began and Jack pulled out a magazine. John squinted to make sure he had the same “Kiplingers” Jack did. But to his horror realized Jack was reading “The Nation”, a change from the magazine he routinely read during lectures. John gasped and sank into his seat: defeat overwhelming him.
Class soon ended and Jack left the classroom with his troop. John followed behind them as they made their way down the halls, still jabbering about the internship. John had already perfected Jack’s walk, practicing as he followed Jack around in the past weeks. Jack said his goodbye’s to all his friends, just as he always had before stepping outside. John proceeded to follow Jack outside and on to the normal route Jack had always taken.
John had also bought all of the items he had seen Jack with. He bought the exact checkered cool pack Jack used to ice his knees after his morning run, the breath mints Jack always consumed as he stepped out his apartment building, his favorite Santa Claus ornament his mother gave him three Christmas’ ago, among many other things. It was just another day for John, following Jack from place to place. Next Jack would stop by his regular coffee shop. There he would order a coffee of the day, a little sugar, hold the cream. Then he go on to his next destination, his girlfrien...
Just then, a horn blared and John heard a loud thump. This was followed by a woman screaming and the screech of tires coming to a stop. The man next to John swore and pulled out his cell phone, quickly punching in a number. John slowly turned his head toward the commotion on the street. A man lay dead in front of a Mercedes. Though a crowd surrounded the body, John could see the brown hair and the latest issue of “The Nation” laying next to the body. John turned around, in shock at what had just happened, and retraced his steps into the coffee shop. Coffee of the day, a little sugar, hold the cream. He slowly took a window seat and stared blankly into space as an ambulance raced past the window. After a while, he took out his “Kiplingers” and began to flip through its pages.