Sunday, December 29, 2013

My fish tank!

I got a lovely new fish tank for Christmas. =) 36 gallons of life and love for my aquatic friends. Or captives. Depends on how you look at it.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Water Chemistry

Because science. I was testing all sorts of levels in my small fish tank. Ph, ammonia, nitrites- and a few other things. All the bad stuff? Yeah all of it was really bad. One was so bad it was actually off the color chart of the test. I need a bigger tank to help keep some of this stuff under control, but today I crushed a lot of the harmful water condition sources. Oh well, once I get a job I think I'll devote a paycheck solely to buying a big bad ass tank. And a couple hardy and sacrificial fish to get the nitrogen cycle started right this time. I'm learning. =P on the bright side- my ph is right!

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Death Note

I don't know why, but suddenly I can't stop thinking about the Death Note and Shinigami's. nothing started this man, it's just sudden! But I don't mind. 

I've always loved the rules. There's 66 rules I believe, or at least parts of how to use the Death Note. The first one (this one) and the last are my favorite. The last simply says that any human who has used a Death Note goes to neither heaven nor hell when they die. All humans must die at some point, and those who have used a Death Note will never come back to life. There's so many rules and technicalities, I love it for this concept.

The Shinigami realm is what I'm thinking of. It's almost poetic. They had their own realm, their own world, and they killed everything there with their death notes. Now they're left on a desolate rock doing the same things everyday. Trying to stave off boredom. They have nothing left and nothing to do but gamble. Sure they can write a humans name in their Death Notes for the sport of killing a human, but they take very little joy in that anymore. As gods of death, it's not even a challenge.

Aaaand this thing. Clever.

I think one of the worst first world problems is when you're taking a poop, and you know the water is about to splash back up at you and there's nothing you can do about it. That's up there on the list of first world problems. 

Friday, December 13, 2013

Floating Water Idea

So my mind is caught on this idea now. What if liquids were lighter than gasses? Like I know it's a physical impossibility, but it's an interesting premise. Because all the air would be where the oceans are, and the oceans would float on top. The water would make the air covered earth we live on darker, pitch black in places. However industry would eventually solve that with electricity. Also it would be harder to get water to survive, we would have to drill for trapped water pockets under ground like we now drill for oil. Also what would transportation be like? Cars and such would still exist, but I don't think planes would. I think we would just have elevators up to water level and have subs. In fact, we may have semi bouyant buildings floating above entire metropolises below. And what would space travel be? What would astrology be like? Could we see stars, or would schools of shining fish be equivalent? Imagine seeing a whale float above you in the moonlight. Also, how different would the ocean be without rooted in the ground plants? Would plants be rooted to tall mountains? Or would there be places where the elevation is high enough to where there's no air and it's surrounded by water? Or bottom feeders? What would happen to food that fell deeper into the sea? Would it rest on the waters edge at the bottom, or would it slip through and fall through the air below?

Also, I know we as humans are mostly water. I'm presuming that we land life forms would be heavy enough to not float above the air due to the light water in our body, just because of other things in us. Dunno. It just interests me. 

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Architectural Blender Project

I love the art style in Dishonored. I want to try building some buildings in blender, I think I might start with buildings like in the second picture, more stone in a worn down sort of environment. I might also just do an old sort of apartment building like the last 3 pictures. I'm leaning towards doing that, but with architectural touches from Dishonored. We'll see I guess. This is all presuming I have time and low enough stress levels to effectively deal with anything. =)

Short Story I Wrote

So I've been writing nightly for awhile now. Most of the stories I just end up trashing by the end of the week because I am incredibly unsatisfied, but hey at least its practice. This is a short story that survived the purge this week, I really have no title for it or anything, and it still needs a lot of revision, which I think I will do for this story. Investing a little more in this story couldn't hurt I don't think. Anywho, I'll just put it right up here for you guys to see. If even one of you end up liking this story even a little, then all of my effort was worth it. But if not, well so be it, it was good practice.

Anyways, here's the rather under edited story. A few highlighted bits I really think need work, but aside from  that... yeah just whatever, here it is. =)

He could see his breath as he ran in the crisp winter night. Under the moonlight, it seemed to swirl like a small blizzard in the cold world he was too familiar with. It swirled until it to froze, then faded into the invisible nothing of the frosty air. The young teenager ran through the forest on this chilling night as if wolves were chasing him, but there were none to be found. He had been darting through this frosty jungle at full speed for nearly an hour now, and his lungs were burning from the frost. His face was red, but it wasn’t apparent under the makeup of the snow clinging to his face. There were marks on his face from where tears had frozen their way down his cheeks, like some sort of tribal make up. His knees and arms were torn open in the way that only rough asphalts claws can tear, and either the beginnings of scabs were forming over his wounds, or his blood was freezing to his skin. Did it matter which? He hadn’t prepared for this excursion, in fact he was wearing nothing more than newly torn jeans and a thin ACDC t-shirt that clung tightly to his cold body as if it were looking for warmth. His body was freezing away, however he didn’t notice. He just kept running.
His limbs were going numb. His lungs screamed. He heart was begging for relief. But he wasn’t listening to his body, he was too absorbed by his thoughts. His mind was racing faster than his collapsing body as he ran through the nightmare that became his life.
Tonight he left the house just as it was starting to get dark. As he was getting ready, he could hear his parents arguing in their room. Both his mother and father were screaming at the top of their lungs, often at the same time, until his mothers shouts turned to tears. Then the house was silent, aside from the hum of the heaters and the rhythmic beat of his mothers sobs that recently became the anthem to this teenagers life. He slipped his shoes on, then slipped out of the house without a soul knowing. He shut the door to his home, if it can truly be deemed as such, and turned to face the winter. He admired the layer of ice that covered the world. The trees were coated with a glassy coat of ice, and the ground covered in an ice layer that preserved the crystals of snow beneath. He needed relief. He needed a break from the chaotic hell of his home.
Earlier in the week, the school was abuzz about a party that was being thrown on the weekend. It was one of those big parties the popular kids throw when their parents are away on some trip. You know, the unsupervised “invitation only” kind of get drunk parties. The teenager was most certainly not invited. He was a nobody, however his girlfriend wasn’t. Amelia. The A in Amelia stood for A+. She was the popular girl, the head cheerleader, the athlete, the GPA Nazi, the honors student, and the best that the school had to offer. Why she doted on her little nobody of a boyfriend was always a mystery, to both him and to the school. But faithfully since freshmen year, she loved on him and spoiled him. Maybe she just felt bad for him and his abundance of inadequacy. Maybe she felt better about herself by being so close to him. Regardless, Amelia was invited to the party, and her nobody was not.
Now he trudged over the ice to that party. Anything was better than his home, even a sea of people who had never heard his name. It was only a few blocks away, and worst case it wasn’t a long walk home. He arrived with frozen cheeks and a runny nose.
The walk was longer than he had expected, and his bare arms were pink from the short walk. The house was the kind sizable enough that it needed a big metal gate to surround it. A small mansion made of solid white stone, with a frozen fountain in the front yard. A snow laden drive way wrapped around the glimmering fountain, and there were cars parked in every conceivable angle in it. Pillars carved over countless hours held up the stone porches surrounding the mansion. Large windows outnumbered the walls, emulating a warm glow of the party within. The base could be felt outside as he walked towards the front door. Surprisingly, the large wooden front door was open, and he walked right in. The air was filled with a sweet smoke, and the hands of all the teenagers were filled with red solo cups containing a number of sweet intoxication's. He weaved his way through the crowd of teenagers looking for Amelia, the only person that may pay any attention to him at all in this place. The only shining light in his world right now. The rooms were all decorated lavishly in the house, but were polluted with a cast of delinquents. In one room, some jocks laughing on the ground, drenched in beer. Another, a player with too few hands and too many ladies. Just next to a stair case, a girl with nothing more than short skirt and fragments of a top passed out on a white leather couch.
He couldn’t find Amelia anywhere. Maybe she didn’t show up. He went upstairs, and was met with a long hallway lined with doors and few people. Upstairs was sparsely populated, and compared to downstairs it made teenagers look endangered. He began walking the halls in search of Amelia, but didn’t find her. He stood in a corner for a few moments, and decided to look in the rooms that lined the hallway. He opened the nearest door quietly, but only found a bathroom. The next door concealed a bedroom filled with bongs and teenagers. The next had a pool table surrounded by big football players, cussing like sailors during surgery. He was considering giving up the hunt, but he decided to check a few more doors. Nothing. No one. Faceless people. Finally, he only had one door left to open. He considered not even opening it. what was the point he thought. He cranked the door handle and the door swung open.


His mouth hung open. His heart stopped. The only shining light in his world was extinguished. There in the gorgeously decorated bedroom was his girlfriend, being fucked by the star quarterback on the football team. She was facing the door when it swung open, and began to scream. In that moment, he couldn’t tell if he had made her scream, or if the quarterback did, but he was paralyzed by it. Her and the quarterback quickly collected themselves and retreated under the mess of sheets.
The quarterback began typical masculine posturing as he hid beneath his blanket, “The fuck do you think you-“ but was cut off by Amelia.
“Oh my God, what the hell are you doing here?” Shrieked Amelia, still catching her breath.
“I… I just…” he muttered as he looked down at the floor, holding himself up with the door frame.
The quarterback started, “Dude, what the fuck are you doing here? We were kind of-“
“Why! Why the fuck are you doing this to me Amelia!” he cried. Tears were streaming down his face now, his voice was filled with sadness and rage.
“Look, I just-“ started Amelia.
“No, give me a God damn strait answer. What the fuck is this? Huh? What the fuck are you doing? Do you even know? What you’ve done here and what you’ve done to me? Huh?” he cried out.
Amelia coldy and calmly said “Look, you want a straight answer, so be it! You’re dying. You’re dying quickly, and you know it. The doctor said you had what, two weeks, three tops? I loved the time we spent together, I really did, but its over. You’re dying, and without you there is no us, it’s coming to an end and you cant deny that. So what the fuck am I doing here? I’m finding someone who will be there when you’re gone.” Both her and the jock began putting their clothes on under the sheets as she continued talking, “And you know what? I’ve never been happier,” She picked up a joint off of the bedside table and began smoking it as she pulled up her pants, “I have never been this happy! I feel amazing, I feel things Ive never felt with you. So you know what? Maybe it’s a good thing you'll be gone soon. Maybe its what I needed. Maybe your death is just what I needed.” She took a long draw from her joint before she buttoned up her shirt. she said “Now get the fuck out of here you nobody.” As she exhaled the sweet venom of her joint from her lungs”
“No, no no, you cant be- I wont! No we will fix this, we will just… We can-“ he said before he was cut off by the quarterback grabbing his shirt.
“I’ll escort him out.”
Before he knew it the front door was closing behind him. He stood there, looking at the frozen fountain with teary eyes and an otherwise blank expression. How? Why? What happened? She was all I had, she was the last thing going right for me, she was the light in this sea of darkness… and now, now what do I have? Thoughts such as these were blaring like a siren in the sinking ship of his head. Intensely loud thoughts sounding off in his mind, followed by a silence that made him think he lost the capacity to think. He stood on the porch of the small mansion, utterly destroyed for what seemed to be eons. He swayed as each thought frantically pounded away at his psyche. Did she ever truly love me? How long has this been going on? Do I want to know? Does it matter? Am I so low that it really doesn’t matter? Am I better off dead like she said? I must be. What says otherwise?
Suddenly his legs started moving as fast as his frantic mind. He began running, to where was unknown even to him. Down the icy steps, through the frozen drive, and out the metallic gates. He ran down the middle of the slush filled road, picking up speed with every thought that was born into his nightmarish mind. Past houses, past suburbs, until the blurred sight of houses on the edge of his vision became rare, and he was running down a dark back road somewhere. No streetlights to be found. The moon was his only guide. His head was spinning, but his legs pushed on regardless. Snow was pelting his bare arms and face as he sprinted down the road towards the edge of his small town. He noticed he was surrounded by a frozen evergreen forest that engulfed the road, and he gravitated towards it for some reason. Maybe he knew he’d be alone there. Just before reaching the edge of the road and moving into the forest, his feet slipped on some ice imbedded on the cold road, sending him sprawling down face first onto the hard road. He skidded across the ground for a couple feet, and tore his shirt and pants to ribbons. He lay there on the side of the road, face pressed into the frosty slush. He lay there crying, wondering how far from home he was. Wondering if anyone cared or if his parents even knew he was gone yet.
A short while later, a yellowish light began piercing his clasped shut eyelids. The rumbling of a diesel engine. Squealing of old brakes. The metallic slam of a door. Fast paced squishing of boots in the slush filled road. Suddenly a gruff voice spoke, “Hey, kid,” someone knelt beside him and shook him “Kid! My names Vick, Vick Jackson, can you hear me? I’m here to help you.” He didn’didn't move or make a sound, he just lay there in the cold snow. “Aw shit… You’re breathing, there's at least that… Hang on a minute.” The man, apparently named Vick, got up and plotted quickly back to his truck. It was then that the teen pulled himself up and stumbled off into the nearby woods. His arms and chest were torn just like his clothes, but he didn’t feel the wounds. “Hey! Hey, where are you going?” yelled Vick. That was a good question. Where was he going?
He was terribly afraid. Vick would take him home, or to a hospital, or somewhere where people would ask him questions about what happened tonight. He couldn’t even tell what happened himself. All he knew is he had no hope, no love, nowhere to be and nowhere to go. So he ran, he ran like a slave escaping some unjust capture. He ran through the dead undergrowth and came crashing through frozen branches. He heard shouts off behind him still, calling out to him, trying to take him away from the icy night. He ran full sprint, bounding over piles of snow, flying through frozen brambles and skeletons of bushes. Blood was pouring out of his wounds with every heartbeat, but he didn’t even notice. The shouts behind him died out, perhaps from the deafening thoughts in his head. “I’m going to die,” He thought. “I’m going to die, and she’s happy about it. How did it come to this… ” He cried burning tears, and sprinted on ahead.
About two weeks ago, he had a dramatic set of seizures in the middle of gym class. He was rushed to the hospital, and shortly after flown to intensive care in a more equipped hospital.
He came to a few days later, seemingly unharmed. He was all alone in a windowless hospital room, hooked up by tubes and wires to machines that’s functions were a mystery to him.
“It’s a severe malignant brain tumor,” The doctor told him later that day, “however this is unlike any one we have seen before. Rather than being in a somewhat centralized area, this one splintered out. The cancer has a spider web like effect to it, spreading out across most of your brain. I'm actually surprised you made it this far without complications.”
“I… I don’t know what to say doctor… Is there anything that can be done? Like can this be cured in any way?” he said
“Well… in normal cases of cancer there are treatment options, but this case is a little… different. The tumor has weaved its way into most of the hemispheres your brain, and surgery isn’t an option… And if I'm being honest, it’s a little late to try… Well, look, maybe we should wait for your parents to get here and then we can talk more. Until then, rest up. You’re going to be fine, you should be able to live out the rest of your life without many more complications.”
An hour later, the doctor spoke with his parents out in the hallway. They came and told him that things didn’t look good for his life. The doctors said that he had only two weeks or so to live, but he could be taken home that very day. They seemed overly attached for the next few days, then incredibly distant after that.
They kept him in the dark about his cancer. When he asked about treatment or things he could do, they wouldn’t tell him a thing, and were furious when he brought it up. They never spoke about his cancer in front of him, however late at night he could hear his parents talking about it in their bedroom. They often debated the expenses of chemotherapy, and if it was worth keeping him alive a few more weeks at most. A few more weeks where he would suffer. His mother cried a lot at night, but would never show any signs of weakness or sadness around him. Everyone in his family acted as if nothing was wrong. They were in a constant state of denial.
Amelia was devastated. She wouldn’t let him out of her sight for days, and for a week showed more love and affection than ever before. After that first week, she became incredibly distant. She began avoiding him in the halls and skipping classes they had together. She ignored texts and phone calls, and her parents said she wasn’t home when he came asking for her. Amelia just dropped out of his life completely. Until he looked for her at the party that is.
His wounds had frozen over. Ice was caked onto his skin like a mask. His hair looked like jagged rocks on some icy shoreline. Still, he sprinted through the frozen jungle. Running from his past. Running from his future. But to where?
His body couldn’t take the strain anymore. It finally gave way to the unrelenting force of the world around him. He was miles from home when he slammed face first into the iced over snow in the middle of the woods. He laid face down, wheezing for air in a panicked fashion. He rolled onto his back, his body trying to gulp in air, but not getting near enough. His mind consisted of fragments and pieces of a person he once was. Memories that meant nothing now. His family lived in the past, and pretended nothing had happened when he was diagnosed with cancer. Amelia lived in the future, knowing his death was inevitable and finding comfort in someone she found more stable. And him? He didn’t live in the past or future. In fact, he didn’t even live in the present much longer either. His mind was gone, devoid of any thoughts aside from survival. He wasn’t thinking of what’s to come, or what had been. He was truly thinking in the moment, gasping for air as he died slowly in the cold.
His entire body was senseless from the cold. His breath was as icy cold as the blanket of snow around him. His heartbeat slowed, his thoughts ceased, and his lungs stopped their screaming for air and settled in for this winter’s eternal hibernation.

Monday, December 9, 2013

Snow day after snow day. I've been wrapped in the nice warm blanket of self esteem and assurance the last few days. Boy has it been nice. But tomorrow, tomorrow I go back to the dismal failure of life. Back to feelings of inferiority. To wanting to cry on stage because your throat is bleeding, but you're still somehow too quiet. To wanting to bury myself in ice to be as cold as the world. To the lies. To the fantasy hopes of good grades. To the dreams of hearing a good job and knowing it's not a joke. To the cold drives. To wanting to cut open my sternum with a rusty cleaver. To the illusive memories of being good at something. Back to wanting to hang onto a lead weight and jump into the deep abyss of the ocean. Back to wanting to shove splintered wood deep into people's throats. Back to life. I wish life wasnt so fucking dark.

I have her though. She's the hope I need. She's the reason I don't do all of the above. I won't always wear a big smile, but because of her I overcome these terrible feelings.

Friday, December 6, 2013

Snow day!

No school!

Cucumber Story

I just peed on a cucumber.

Fewf, I really needed to get that out. That's for being there for me guys.

(It was a half eaten slice from my fish that I took out of their tank and was going to flush to get rid of)

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Ack. What the heck. My muscles are all tense. It feels like all my muscles are tightening up and pulling in opposite directions, like they're trying to pull my bones apart. It's like a tense feeling but more. Weird. Hopefully it doesn't kill me before the weekend. I want to sleep in at least once this week.

Comforting Myself With A Rant

Well, barring road clogging snow from the heavens or a school shooting, I'll have an AP English test tomorrow. I'm dreading it. It's another chance to show that I haven't improved, that my teacher still doesn't like my writing. Today I had math, and while more confidence boosting than usual, it still didn't bring a sense of self worth. It's never been my strong suit, but at least I'm holding steady in there. English on the other hand has been my strong suit until now. All my life teachers have gawked over my writing and speeches. Until now. It's as if I was nearing the end of a marathon, and someone suddenly pulled up a steel bar across the road that dropped me on my back. Now I'm being trampled and crushed, and success has become impossible. What once was will never be.

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Words I'm Writing To Relieve Myself

This year man. Everyone wants me to shut up it seems, my ideas appear useless in every single subject I have. The only time I can't shut up is when I need to fail a paper or test, in which case I need to put some words or numbers on paper silently.

I think I have come up with the universal motto for all high schools. High schoolers everywhere should live by this, it should be put on banners and hung in gyms all over the world, it should be tattooed into teachers foreheads and burned into the wrists of students everywhere. "Shut your mouth or put a gun in it."

Now the latter option isn't an option for me because I've made promises to stick around for a few people, but otherwise this is the perfect saying for high school. Says everything that needs to be said in a quick concise way. Takes the human aspect out of it, kills the emotional side... Everything you need to grow up.

On the side collum of my Spanish warm ups, I always write whatever interesting truth I've discovered that day. Between the social world that's been designed for us, to the miricle that all the train wrecks that are our lives somehow create a functional society. Marginally functional. Today's was something like "what happens when the one thing you think you're good at, the one talent that makes you feel successful, is torn apart? When it's proven a useless skill or inadequate? You grow up."

Two people have faith in me getting my all of my failing grades fixed. My mother, and my girlfriend. Really that's it. If there's anyone else honest out there, they haven't spoken up. I have two people left who believe in me, one of which I'm related to by blood. If I knew any better I'd say that wasnt a good thing.

But whatever, man is the only being driven by faith, faith in himself. Unfortunately I don't have much of that left these days, but I'm sure it'll recover. While it does recover, I'll make my usual rounds and talk to all my teachers to see how I can change for them, and improve for them. Maybe it'll work this time. Maybe they'll tell me off.

I took a nap today after school, mostly out of conflicting emotions and twisted thoughts. It was easier to just shut down than deal with it. Anyways, I had one of those dream things during the nap. Rare for me really. In it, I was in Spanish. In real life Spanish class, there's a kid who's an amped up football player who likes to bully kids in his sophomore class. Earlier in the year I didn't stand for it and turned him in to the principal. Best thing I've done all year. He's less aggressive to his other classmates but he's turned his rage on me- (call me Jesus) but here's the catch, he only acts up when there's a sub. He knows he won't get away with anything when our normal teacher is there, but with a sub he has a chance.

So, in my dream today, there was a sub in Spanish and this bully was trying to start a fight with me, so I grabbed a pair of those old solid metal scissors off a nearby desk and broke the middle joint, so the two handles were separate and both had blades. They were schoolhouse shanks. I dropped one, and handed him one, and kept forcing it on him and saying "take it. Go ahead, stab me. You want to get rid of me? Huh, do you asshole? Want me gone forever? Stab me, right here in the neck. Do it you pussy. Come on fucker, do it." I kept giving him the blade, and he kept backing up, bumping desks and accidentally moving them. I kept forcing it into his hands, and kept daring him to do it. I exposed my neck, I wrapped his hands around the makeshift shank, I got on my knees, and he still wouldn't do it. Eventually he was backed into a corner and I was kneeling and had the shank in his hand pressed up against my skin, pushing on my neck with the tip. He began crying, weaping and shuddering. He dropped the blade, and fell to his knees weaping. I got up from my knees and just looked at him crying. Then I left him, and with a perfectly blank face walked back through the sea of misplaced desks, found mine, and sat in it as if nothing had happened. The class was horrified. I slowly came back to consciousness after that, I woke up that is. It's interesting what my mind jumps to, because this roided up asshole hasn't been causing too many issues in the last few days. So why this dream now? What's the deal brain?

Yesterday I found out that a 4.0 student I know used to cut. The scars are all the way up to her elbow, with maybe a half an inch between each of them. I acted like it was no big deal as a sort of comfort, and these days it really isn't. It seems like every week or so I find out someone I know cuts. I never ever talk about it, and I'll never expose their names to anyone, but it's interesting how it befalls so many different people. Failing kids who bleed on the floor till they nearly faint in a locked pitch black bathroom because they're not happy with a boyfriend, a 4.0 student who cuts open her wrists and bleeds because she doesn't think she's good enough. Because she "went through a bad time." Their excuses are very few for their taboo. Their parents don't even know usually. I can name 6 kids who's parents don't even see the deep scars on their own children's wrists, or deeper scars behind their eyes. I know there's a lot more that are rumored too. Faint whispers and teary apologies to lovers in the halls. Oregon is a pretty cold place for most of the year, but I promise you that has nothing to do with the fact that most of the kids at school wear sweatshirts year round. An education that should last, scars that will.

I've recently found an unusual adoration with my two fish. I have a typical goldfish and an albino bristlenose pleco- a small cute suckerfish. My new favorite thing to do is to watch my pleco eat cucumber. It sounds weird, but the little bastard really does it. He cleans the soft insides out and leaves the tough skin behind. It's quite a sight really. It's got me thinking about things that would never have met without people. Like if people weren't around, would a fish ever see a chicken? Would a crab ever taste a chicken as bait as they do in some crab traps? Would a pleco ever know what cucumbers or sweet peas taste like? Would a dog know bacon? Would it know a shag rug? Would deer know what tomato leaves taste like? Without us, many more common experiences wouldn't have ever existed.

Well if nothing else, typing has calmed my mind a bit. =)