The Day I became a Man

They stared at me, waiting for my answer. What could I have said? I never got to order for myself, my parents somehow always knew what I wanted. They were asking way to much me at the time. “I... I... I want… this.” Those were the words that I had told the waitress, as I was pointing at some picture.  She must have been in a rush for I don’t remember her asking my parents to confirm or deny the order I had made. She took my menu and left. I soon felt like a man, I had ordered my own meal. I was a grown up now. I thought I had entered man-hood, and the bright side was I didn’t have to grow facial hair first. I sat there like a man. I crossed my legs when my dad did, drank from my drink when my mom did, and offered witty comments to the conversation. Of course when I did make a comment it was received with puzzled looks, or comments that said “that’s not what we are talking about.” Other than that, everything was great. I was finally an adult. I had waited a whole 5 ½ years for this. I was going to enjoy it. When the lady returned with our food, I was given what I had ordered. I looked at my plate and realized that this didn’t look at all like the picture. I was disappointed. So I took a bite; I was disappointed, again.  This didn’t taste at all like I thought it would. I had ordered a meal, like an adult. I sat still, like an adult. I had commented on the conversation, like a young adult. How could they get my meal wrong? So I, being an adult, said “Mommy, I don’t like it.” “Well why did you order it,” she asked. That caught me off guard; why had I ordered it? I realized the answer, “because it looked pretty.” My mom started to laugh; how could she laugh at me like that, I thought, I am an adult. My dad, without saying anything, handed me his pancake. Like when I was a child, he knew what I wanted. How a Dad could do that was beyond me. I had decided that I would never go to there again. One week later, we went back to Denny’s.

She's a witch! She's a witch! But how do we know she is a witch?

The death toll in the suburbs has increased rapidly over the past few years. The bear attacks in the suburbs have frightened many people, but what if it’s not the bears fault. What if the true blame lies with the idiotic people we call fair citizens? These citizens, who live in these suburbs, have left out garbage every week. They have left last night’s barbecue on the picnic table, being beacons of hope for the poor bears. As the bear’s eat these “throw a ways”, these citizens come and startle the bears; the bears attack in fear, not anger. The citizens blame the Nature lovers in America, or the forest rangers; they do not realize it’s their fault! But do are fair citizens realize anything is their fault? American schools have produced dim-witted who don’t think for themselves. Who blindly listen to, or read, our politicians or popular individuals. Like James Patterson, “but I digress for to speak his name is to summon his awful presence” (Whites Kid’s U’ Know). I understand he is liked by many individuals, but does any author need three whole bookcases at Hastings. Come on, we get it; you like to write, but really, three bookcases? At the least he is not like Stephanie Meyer, who has brought around a craze that needs to die now; for the good of the country, and the good of the world. Now, before you crucify me, I do have a confession to make. I have read all of the twilight series; I have also read a few of the Maximum Ride series. I read these books in moments of weakness, but have since been seen the error of my ways. But our fair suburbians have not. They still read twilight, and are now wearing “team Jacob,” or “go Edward,” shirts that further frighten the poor bears.  So in a sense, twilight is to blame for the bear attacks. This is just another reason this craze needs to be demolished. If twilight has this kind of effect on our suburbians, then the only conclusion we can make about Stephanie Meyer is "She's a Witch!!"

Who Am I?

For me to pick one essay style would seem easy enough. Unfortunately, I myself would have to say that it may be a bit harder, but as I keep filling this blog with straight up nonsense, which roams around the topic of this post like a bee around honey, I find myself revealing the type of essayist I am. Then again, it could all be bull and I’m just trying to fill the void. I may find myself to be a number VII (The Idler Figure). The reason being is that I am a bit of a Loafer, or just someone who likes to talk about whatever comes to his mind. Now that I think about it, maybe I’m a number IX. Who cares if one moment I’m talking about birth control and the next purple elephants? Does it really matter if all I really want to do is make fun of Twilight fans? Wait, so if I want to make fun of people, does that make me a number VI? I can see this is still an utter failure, for I still don’t know who I am. That could be considered a flaw. I’m talking about my flaw, which happens to be me not knowing what kind of essayist I am, so I could be a number III. Number III also is about revealing your extensive knowledge on a particular subject, and I have some extensive knowledge on the coming zombie attack. Alright, this is getting nowhere. So, to anyone reading this, goodnight and long live the Empire!

My Amost Epic Fail

As with most people, I am not perfect. I make many mistakes. Some are epic, and then some are not so epic. In my defense, is it not our mistakes that help shape us into the person we are today? I myself have been shaped by the countless mistakes I have committed in my brief past. One such incident that comes to mind is my first infatuation, Tara Basterson. Because I have the power on this blog, I have changed the names of the characters in my story. I met Tara my second day in Kindergarten; then she was absolutely beautiful. I was a decently handsome boy, if I do say so myself. Both of our mothers taught at the same school, so every once in a while we would go outside and play on the playground after school.  I being a boy, and her being a girl, did the natural thing that boys and girls do; we snuck into the woods right beyond the fence. As we headed off, we saw this path through the trees. After a bit of walking, we became convinced that this was the trail of Johnny Appleseed. After all, who else would walk through the woods? We ended up exploring the whole trail, and found the highway. Disappointed we didn’t find the remains of Johnny Appleseed, we headed back to the school playground. Come to find out my mom was outside looking for us. When we reached her she gave us the usual interrogation, “where were you,” “What were two doing,” and “did you take your vitamins?” Her questions were normal, and I answered with the normal answer, “uhhh.” She then saw my new jeans, covered with grass stains. More out of anger for my grass stains then the fact Tara and I ran off together, she started to be me in front of Tara. I, being the natural boy, started crying in front of Tara. She would never again see me in the same way. So my mistakes have shaped me. I will never again believe that Johnny Appleseed was buried in those woods. That was my mistake, obviously. I have sensed learned to wear extra padding before the beating commences.

"You gave me the inch, Im taking the mile"

A million years ago, when humans had bigger brains, there was a social networking site that censored all things bad about Facebook mobile. This social networking site had another name, it was Big Brother. Big Brother stood for all things evil. These things ranged from Twilight, to Martha Stewart. From non-fat milk to healthy cookies, which were considered abominations a million years ago. Despite the horrific attempts of Big Brother to silence the free thinkers of the world, and have the free thinkers conform to the dull mindless clatter of their culture, a group of people said “Nay!”  It was a Resistance that stood in the face of Big Brother, a.k.a Facebook, and said "HA! We will not comply with your wishes and your desire to commit obscene actions to our bodies!" The Resistance stood with boldness, despite the lack of sugar packed cookies. They stood strong, they were legend makers. The legends go on to say that one day the Resistance demolished Big Brother, or so they thought. For today Big Brother is back. He carries not the same name, but his actions are unmistakably that of Big Brother. He wishes for us to comply with his desires, both sexual and not-as-sexual. We, as free thinkers must say “Nay,” or “only for money,” or even “not till its legal!” We must stand firm; we must be the Resistance! Remember, the fox flies at midnight! 

Exploring Uncharted Waters

I personally like trying new things, even though I start off a bit nervous when these new situations start. There is a part of me that doesn't want to have change, and doesn't like "uncharted waters." I try to ignore that part of me, most of the time. Despite my feelings toward the unfamiliar, I  find myself preparing for change. For example, I am almost fully prepared for the zombie apocalypse that will soon strike our world. All I have left to obtain is 20,000 feet of high quality rope, and 10,000 pounds of Twinkies. I personally have never been in a zombie apocalypse, however I do feel that I am prepared for this situation. I am at peace with the dead reanimating, and I can also say that I am looking forward to this predicament. That is mainly because these vampire lovers will finally see they have gotten everything wrong and will meet their just reward for not preparing for the zombie apocalypse. Even though I am prepared for zombies to attack, there are other unfamiliar territories, and unfamiliar people, that I hope I never have contact with. Like Chinese hotel owners, a homeless person who wants to touch my feet, 5th graders, and many more things that simply frighten me. Even so, I realize change happens. As we live, life will put us in unfamiliar places. All I can do is try my best, pray, and hope I have enough money for take out. Everything else usually falls into place.

P.S. If you would like to donate to A.Z.A (Awareness of the Zombie Apocalypse) please call 555-734-7685. We will accept goods, but cash is preferred. Your donations will be used to save human lives. Thank You.