Category: Actual Writing?

Hey There, 10,000.

Sometime last night I postlessly and guiltily snuck past 10,000 views, whoa. I realize that in the grand scheme of the internet that’s not such an amazing accomplishment, seeing as how about half are probably from me logging in on a different computer and sketchy, East Asian financial advice scam blogs, but I am eternally grateful to those of you humans out there who’ve stopped by over the last 8ish months (especially those of you who threw me a few pity refreshes while you were here).

Nobody likes reading sentimental nonsense so I’ll stop now, but it’s been fun, and there’s more content on the way.  Here’s looking at you, 20,000.

Thanks, Internet.


P.S. Sorry there was no prize for being the 10,000th viewer, whoever you were.


Two weeks left of summer.

Normally I would say that summer has gone by so fast it’s just been a blur, various trips and parties to pass the time. but this summer has been more of a blank space than a blur. Equally fast, if not more so, but filled with nothing.  I’m not even sure how it happened, I have accomplished and done so astoundingly little.  It’s not the satisfying kind of “little” either.  Sometimes doing nothing can be relaxing, but mine is the stressful kind of “little.”  Stressing about doing nothing whilst trying and failing to come up with something to do.  All I’ve done is work.  I feel like I should go buy some Pokemon cards or build a tree house or something to compensate in my last two weeks.

Last summer I was happy, but scared shitless at the impending school year and the consequent ending of my childhood.  Last school year came and went, the cliff I seemed to be careening towards turned out to be more of a time warp, and there I was again, gas pedal stuck to the floor on my summer, eyes glued to the rearview mirror.  As time goes on, the image in that mirror fades, and finally, now that summer is almost gone, I am able to look ahead. What used to seem like a cliff at the end of my summer however, that terrifying feeling of unknown, has been replaced with a looming brick wall.  I know what to expect now, I just hope I can find a door before I dash myself against the side of that big brick building called potential.  If I can find that door, break through that barrier, then has the potential to be a damn good year.

Well huh, that wasn’t exactly the blog post I intended, I uh, apologize for that.

I guess that’s all I have for today, so now for some unsolicited opinion, in the form of some charts and graphs.


Read these graphs, or never talk to me ever.

How did this get in here?

Another one? My bad.

I heart charts. But seriously, this one makes me sick.

“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God”

-Matthew 19:24

I just quoted the Bible,


I had endeavored to post more than once a week this summer, but the utter lack of activity in my life has made that incredibly difficult.  There’s not much to write about a weekend filled with boredom, self-pity, and copious amounts of aimless internet browsing, which has been every weekend of the summer so far.

But, do not despair my intrepid reader, for this summer is to the movie of my life not the depression montage, that already happened, but instead the determination montage, where I work out in dimly lit rooms and leave myself inspirational notes on the mirror.  In this montage I lean dramatically over the sink, splash water on my face, and stare steely-eyed and determined at my unshaven reflection, followed by an unknown, but undoubtedly epic number of incredibly sweaty situps.  We’ll just edit out the hours and hours spent in dark rooms staring at TV and computer screens, a lifeless pallor about my person, and just the barest hint of sentience in the vacant expression worn constantly upon my face.  Oh yeah, after a determination montage like this I am going to kick some ass when school starts next month.


I know making fun of old ladies makes me a terrible person, but when they have sideburns and a moustache, it’s incredibly hard not to chuckle in mild fascination.  Though, I have to

admire them for not giving a flip about the way they look.

Do you ever sit there and debate how much punctuation you should put at the end of a sentence?!?

Nobody likes being super busy at work, but it’s almost better than the endless minesweeper and rubber band-ballery of a slow day.

And now for some unsolicited philosophical advice:

Don’t ever get so caught up in where you’re going that you forget where you’re from, because for better or for worse, it will always be a part of you.  No matter how much you want to get away from it, as soon as you forget where you’re from, you become just another face in the crowd, somewhere in the middle of a story with no beginning.  I’m not saying your past should define you, but a glance in the rearview mirror every once in a while is a good way to avoid an accident.  Besides, if you don’t remember where you started, how can you know how far you’ve come?

Our goals in life are mostly the same,  it’s our beginnings that make us unique.

Reflectively yours,


For those of you who don’t live in Oklahoma, last night we had a bout of several rather large tornadoes, which made for an exciting evening.  A strange thing about us Okies is that a lot of us actually relish the bad weather, it’s exciting, a change of pace.  Living in the heart of tornado alley, tornadoes are sort of a statewide hobby, and we know how to handle them.

Much to my mom’s dismay, when the sky in the southwest turns a dark blue green, it sounds like a freight train is bearing down on me, and it’s like the clouds are throwing a lightning rave, I get an adrenaline rush like no other.

Anyways, a tornado knocked out the power to my house all night last night, which forced me to do a lot of thinking in the dark in lieu of my usual, electric-powered, activities.

Nature is the most awesome thing to behold, and it’s nights like yesterday that remind us that we aren’t masters of earth.  No matter the grandeur of the structures we build, Nature can wipe them out in a second, forcing us to behave like the squishy little animals we are, hiding in our holes underground.

Earth doesn’t care about your architecture and your technology, it hurtles through the void of space, spinning, storming, and leaving us desperately clinging to its surface, trying not to be flung out into space.

It’s funny that it takes a tornado to make me really think though.  I’m not going to be an old person and say that technology is making us dumber, but then again it sort of is..

I mean, if you have a smart phone and cell service, you know everything.  Any question you could possibly ask about the known world is just a web search away from being answered.  If we know everything, why learn anything?

I’m not anti–technology, far from it in fact, but it’s something worth thinking about next time you pick up your phone.

Then again, nature can always trump even our knowledge of everything.  Your cell phone can call anyone on the planet, it can answer any question you could have, it can be used to check your e-mail, your Facebook, it can pinpoint your location anywhere on the globe and tell you how to get home, but when the power goes out and you lose service it’s reduced to its most basic and arguably most important function: flashlight.

Well, I’m almost done philosophizing I promise, this all just makes me realize how fragile humans and our society really are.  That same river that gives us food and transportation then floods and destroys all that it gave us, leaving us wondering why it gave to us in the first place.

Human nature often echoes it’s larger counterpart, Mother Nature in this way; sometimes we build you up just because we like to watch you fall.



P.S. Here’s a video of a couple of the tornadoes last night

Did I Just Meditate?

I figure since the world is ending in a few hours I ought to make my last blog post a somewhat helpful one, so I’ll be remembered by the atheists as a smart person.

When was the last time you just existed?  

As humans we constantly feel the need to be doing something.  If we’re just sitting there we feel unproductive, and like we’re wasting time.  When a dog just sits there nobody criticizes it for being lazy and wasting it’s time, it’s just being, it’s not doing.  

That’s the difference between between humans and animals, animals exist and humans do. 

I think that we as a species should try to just exist more.  Last night was a beautiful night, 70 degrees and windless.  After I got off work, I went outside and sat in a chair.  I just existed after my long day of doing, and it felt horrible.

At first.

I felt this itch, like I needed to go do something.  I had to check Facebook, watch TV, or even (God forbid) read.  I sat through it though, and eventually I got into this extremely relaxing mental state of being.  Afterwards I felta little melancholy, as thinking too much is prone to do to a person, but very relaxed and calm, peaceful.

Insert racial stereotype here.

I suppose that’s what meditation is, but when I think of meditation I think of some bald-headed, Gandhi-looking guru in colorful robes sitting cross-legged and “ahhhmmmmmmmm”-ing with his hands outstretched to his sides.

I was just sitting in a lawn chair, reeking of Asian food, thinking, and enjoying the weather.

Worth a try,


I actually wrote this yesterday, but a post on two consecutive days is unheard of for me.

So I’ve noticed over the last couple of years  that some people find me attractive.  Obviously, as evidenced by the numerous pictures of myself on my blog, I share that sentiment in the most narcissistic way possible.  However, I’ve noticed that the other people who find me attractive are not the young, pretty girls my age that I want to attract, instead it’s mostly gay guys and middle aged women.  Explain that to me, what about my appearance is attractive to the gay guy and middle-aged women demographic and not the datable young women demographic??  Are they just more desperate, thus lowering their standards? I have nothing wrong with gays and older women, but seeing as how I’m straight and 19, they aren’t datable.  If someone could explain this weird phenomenon to me, I would very much appreciate it.

I had my first Vegemite sandwich today.  Contrary to what I’ve heard, I actually really enjoyed it, or as they would say in Australia, I actually really enjoyed it.

Time for some life advice, young readers.

           People always tell you that working in the food service business is the worst and to be avoided at all costs right?  Suck it up and get a job in the food service anyway you pansy.  Why? Because after washing dishes, clearing tables, taking out the trash, and coming home every night exhausted and smelling like Asian food, you will appreciate much more the jobs you hold later in life.

I know that I’m not exactly a seasoned veteran of the working world, but at the ripe old age of 19, I’ve worked at a Japanese restaurant for almost 3 years, and I’ve already felt the positive effects.  At work the other day at my new office job I was briefed on the horrors of “trash duty,” which is a biweekly chore that consists of emptying all the smaller trash bags in the office into one larger bag, and then taking that larger bag just outside the office.  Compared to the seafood-filled, soy sauce-soaked, generally gross trash from a restaurant, office trash was nothing.  Seriously, office trash isn’t even trash compared to restaurant trash.  It doesn’t even have to be trash related, but if you start at the bottom even the most minuscule step up is an improvement, and it will make working a lot more pleasant.

Just some friendly, unsolicited life advice from your friendly neighborhood bloggerman.

Did I really just call myself bloggerman? Gross.

R.I.P. Quiznos Honey Bacon Club, you will always be remembered as the best sandwich known to man.

I think I’ve come to the conclusion that the majority of my views are pity refreshes and seedy East Asian financial advice scams, so… Thanks for stopping by, actual humans out there.

Sorry for the Saturdowner,


So today I guiltily snuck past 4,000 views.. I say guiltily because since 3,000 views I’ve only posted like 4 times.  I’m working on fixing that, but I’ve been busy moving and moping and other important stuff like that.

Speaking of which, I’ll never set foot in Parker 428 again.   What a tremendously strange feeling that is.  Despite the fact that it was a black hole of despair, I killed a lot of Nazi Zombies and wrote a lot of blog posts in there. Actually now that I think about it, this is the first blog post written in the post-Parker Era, I have no idea what I’m going to write about now.  Those obscenity-yelling, door-slamming, un-potty trained morons of the 4th floor were so often my inspiration…

It really is a weird feeling though, because that dorm room eventually became my reality, while my parents house was like a time machine, exactly how it was when I was in high school.  Going to school in the town I grew up in makes reality hard to place.  The setting is only vaguely familiar, disconnected from the town I grew up in, but people from my pre-college life frequently make appearances.  I see people I know from the past here and there, but they’re out of the context in which I remember them, like when you encounter familiar faces in a dream.  Dreams aren’t populated with strangers, what makes a dream a dream is familiar faces in places they don’t belong.  When I used to leave home every Sunday night to drive back to the dorms it was like I was leaving my past and entering my strange reality someplace in between past and future. Now that reality is in boxed up in the past, and I’m left wondering if it all really was just a dream.


Being the socially awkward person that I am, dressing rooms terrify me.  For one they’re always in the women’s section, so to find them you have to look like a freak, creeping around in the women’s underwear section.  When you actually find the dressing rooms in between the bloomers and the Justin Beiber-crotched teen panties, you have to figure out which dressing rooms ones are the women’s and which one’s are the men’s, lest you barge in on women in states of undress or unflattering jeans.  Figuring this out usually involves asking the snarky teenage girl who works there.  I say snarky because they always treat you in this condescending manner, like you’re going to make the clothes dirty by touching them, and it’s a long trip back to the incinerator after you’ve soiled them.  That being said, some of that snark is well placed, because another scary thing about the dressing room is the complete trust you place in the hands of the person who tried the clothes on before you.  I just have to hope that their particular species of lice isn’t too aggressive, or that they at least applied deodorant to their sweaty balls before they tried it on. Adding to the stress of the whole thing is the knowledge that if you forgo the dressing room and just buy it and it looks like crap on you or is the wrong size, you’re stuck with it forever, because returns are twice as scary.

Yesterday I just sat around at home and watched kung fu and boxing movies.  Never a good idea to startle me after a day like that, because I was hardcore in the mood to punch something and get punched just to feel alive.

Just f.y.i. I’ve never been punched before, I bet it would hurt a lot worse than it looks in the movies.

I start working in the President (of OSU)’s office tomorrow morning, hopefully I don’t screw up, and hopefully he doesn’t read my blog.

In memoriam Parker 428,


P.S. I’ve got a couple more blog posts in the works, so hopefully I’ll start posting with regularity again! No promises though, because blogging is hard.

I have a theory.  Well, it’s less of a theory and more of a different way of looking at life.  It’s not necessarily a helpful one, or one that will change the way you live, but I find it incredibly interesting to think about.

You are not the same person you were yesterday.

Every moment you’re alive you change slightly, you learn something, you grow taller, you grow older, you think about something new. When you add all those moments up, you end up changing significantly.  You’re still technically the same biological person as you were last night, last week, or last year, but you’re a new version of you.  Since you can’t time travel (if you can, what the hell are you doing reading this instead of riding a triceratops??), the older versions of you exist only in the past, separate and unchanging.  When you look at a picture of yourself, you’re not seeing yourself, you’re seeing your past self.

Should we just live to benefit our present selves, because we’ll never truly be able to experience what the future holds? Or should we sacrifice our present self’s happiness to supplement the happiness of our future selves?

For example: when you study for that Chemistry test today, you’re not studying to benefit yourself, you’re studying to benefit your future self.  The same is true for the reverse.  When you play Pokemon all day instead of writing that paper, you act to benefit your present self, and you screw over your future self.  The next time your teacher asks you why you didn’t do your homework, or your boss asks you why you didn’t do what he needed you to do, just blame it on your past self, you can’t control that, what do they think you are, a time traveler??

As I eat this pile of M&M’s directly off my desk, I greatly increase my happiness, but Mr. Diabetes waits around the corner to kick my future self in the nuts and steal his wallet.  It’s okay, I hear Future Andrew is a jerk anyway.

You can easily communicate with your future self by writing a letter or taking a picture. If only you could communicate with  your past self…

Can you say time loop?

Paradoxically yours,

-Past Andrew

P.S. I’m pretty sure that means I just time traveled.

So here’s where I’m at right now.

I am a Psychology Major with a Minor in Marketing.  In the practical world of things that’s the best career choice I can think of that fits my personality and strengths.  But I’ve never had an epiphany, or had any inkling of an idea what I wanted to do. Until the other day (I think).

I want to make movies.

The thought that keeps occurring to me as I help out with the production of this movie (see Monday’s post) is, “People get PAID to do this??”  Every aspect of it is so much fun, from writing the screenplay, to making an abandoned building into a police station, to coaxing what you want out of the actors, to thinking through the continuity of the storyline and adjusting the time on the clock in the scene to match it, down to the way you to shoot the scenes themselves.  It’s like doing a giant jigsaw puzzle to get all the scenes to fit together and make a convincing movie.  You have to shoot them at different locations on different days at different times and make it look like a cohesive whole.  I love it. That coinciding with the Academy Awards was like the perfect storm for an epiphany.  My dream is to be a writer/director.

I think I’ve known it all along.  Not good.

I hate epiphanies.   That parental sigh-inducing realization that my dream doesn’t fit with what my life preceding has built me up to be.  Why did it have to come now of all times, as I tread a path towards practicality and expectation.  When you’re a kid, everyone tells you to go for your dream, and that if you work at it hard enough it’ll work out no matter what.  But at some point you have to be be realistic, and ask yourself if you really think you can make it as an astronaut or a lion tamer.  Because of this recent development, I have to choose between a life of relative safety and profitable regret, or a risky life of uncertainty, passion, and likely starvation.

I want both.

But no one has ever achieved excellence by merely sticking their foot in the door, one must thrust himself through the doorway, and pray that he likes what he finds on the other side.

And so I stand undecided.




It’s also turning out to be one of those weeks where everyone seems to need something from me at once, and I’m struggling to keep all the plates spinning.  Bleh. I should stop blogging now, shiz to take care of.  More cheerful posts to come I promise. (If I don’t explode in the meantime.)



P.S. On the plus side I had a ridiculously good hair day today. That’s always a good thing.

Weather this nice turns me into a sap.

Today was unquestionably one of the most beautiful days I have ever experienced. A bag of skittles in each pocket and my favorite music in my ears, I didn’t walk to class, I meandered.   Past and future surrendered to the moment, and nothing seemed to matter except the sun, the breeze, and the ground beneath my feet.  Days like today make me wish I could stop the clock, put in my headphones, don my sunglasses, start walking, and never stop.

Warm and fuzzily yours,


P.S. This is the soundtrack to my aimless wandering today. 

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