There is Only Cereal in My Cereal Box

I have failed so many times. Even when I try I still fail. I am not been able to succeed, never winning the grand prize, and always missing the toy at the bottom of the cereal box. In my depression of being a loser, I will seek the advice of a peer and what I hear is “If at first you don’t succeed try, try again.” So I try again, expecting a different outcome.  I will soon fail, but then I try again, expecting a different result than the previous. This process will continue till I finally win, till I finally become the Man. I fear my sanity is at stake, but is it not worth it? My sanity for the grand prize, how can I say no? However, if my mind has not vanished in my quest to be a winner, then it will surely be lost somewhere else.

Its So Shiny

It would be easier for me to fight an army of Yeti in an epic battle to determine the fate of world, then to force my writing process. It is something that flows from the mind, and if that river named creativity is not flowing then I must admit defeat for its stubbornness could rival a mule named Ted. Speaking of the name Ted, would that even make a good mule name? Maybe it’s a great goldfish name. Speaking of fish, sushi sounds quite appetizing, but so does McDonald’s breakfast burritos. I better go with McDonald’s, for if I get fat I can sue. I must focus; I’m here to talk about my writing process thingy-bobber. Wow, have you ever noticed that Wrigley’s has changed their gum wrappers. Sorry, I must focus. Why does everything have to be a distraction?

Tick Tock

What is it about time that makes people crazy? People will think the world is about to end when they turn 30, and they are knocking on death’s door when they turn 40. At 50 they are having tea and biscuits with the grim reaper every other day and by 60 people are sleeping every night in their newly bought coffin. Yes, that’s how we act toward our age, but when a foundation turns 100 years old we rejoice, as if no one has ever done that before. We seem to forget that time, at least time as we perceive it, has been around since the beginning of forever, and will be forever. Time will always tick by, even if there is no clock to keep track of that infinite thing. It is so vast, and so infinite, that to even try understanding the life span of Time may push a few of us to the brink of our sanity. Yet, even a little bit of Time is valuable. The measly few years we will spend in life are more precious then a world of gold. But at times, Time is worthless.  In large portions, like years, it is valuable. It is something to envy when others have more of it. But in smaller portions, like minutes or days, it is so insignificant and thrown away like an old newspaper that is only used to let a dog potty train on.

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My First Restraining Order

I still remember those words, those words that humiliated me.  It was not what she said, but her logic behind it. I must have been extremely sheltered, for her logic simply astounded me. It was my 9^th grade year, and there she was, Brittney Schmults, the girl who was more beautiful than the other girl I had a crush on. That day she wore a shirt, for if she didn’t I’m sure my adolescent mind would have been blown, and some sweat pants that had the word “All-Star.” If I remember right, it was a gift for being on the softball team. The rumor was she was horrible at it, but at least she looked great. Anyways, I looked, and not realizing I was talking out loud, said those words, “All-Star.” Now if life was like the movies, she would have taken that as a compliment and she would say thank you and soon we would have gone to the spring dance. But alas, it was not meant to be, for she turned around and slapped me while calling me a “nasty pervert”. In all seriousness, I replied “I thought you wanted me to look, you’re the one walking around with words on your butt.” “You’re not supposed to look,” she exclaimed as she stormed off to the next class, leaving me behind in the spot light of embarrassment. How was I supposed to know? I thought she was silently saying to all the people of the world, “Please, look at my butt.” Let me say, as a guy I will look at almost any woman’s rear, or her cleavage, but it’s a guy thing, that’s what we do. The problem is, apparently, I can get in trouble for doing that. If a girl thinks I’m threatening her safety, whether I am or not, she is encouraged to report me to the authorities. So, out of fear to be called a stalker, I take out-of-the-way routes to class, I end up trying not to follow anyone, and I do my very best not to stare. When it does happen there is a voice in me that says “soon your face will appear on the sex offenders list, and your life will be ruined because she was paranoid”. I feel it is dangerous to be a guy.

“Ahhh You Taste Exquisite”

If he could have said anything it would have been “ahhh you taste exquisite,” or maybe he would have said, “This is delicious.” However, these words were not the ones he chose. “Brraaaiinnss,” left his throat like a sparrow joyfully singing the song of spring; He was truly happy in that moment after his first bite into that brain. Yes, he was a zombie. He never cared that the brain could have belonged to anybody; white, black, Asian, Ethiopian, American, Muslim, Buddhist, Christian, fat, skinny, straight, gay, man, women, old, or young, It didn’t matter. He had his brain, he didn’t want the world. He was content with that brain. But he was not always this way. Before his rebirth, he was a greedy business man who would rob his own mother for an extra dollar. He, at the time, was like many other sad, dying humans. A human could be handed the world, every insignificant wish granted, and would never be satisfied. A person could be a god, and it would only please them for while, soon leaving to find that next best thing. Yes, a zombie may eat someone’s brain, but humanity can be true monsters, always hungry and never satisfied.