I am a man with too much time on his hands. With that time I daydream. The mind races and thinks the same way a child speaks after a sugar fueled Christmas binge. Their little bodies downing sugar like a downtrodden Tony Montana downs daddy sugar. Sometimes thoughts shoot into a person’s brain and they seem utterly insignificant until the obvious question comes along, if it’s insignificant why is it on one’s mind? My two and five year old cousins, two ferocious rolling balls of destructive cuteness, think everything is amazing. Everything is amazing and should feel amazing to them because it’s brand new. They have yet to grow as cynical as their twenty-two year old cousin who cries every time he watches Forrest Gump. Little Forrest Gump Jr. tugs on my heart strings like they were made of Greek ethos and he is yo-yo ma. The point is I hate most everything, its how I enjoy life. I’m happiest when I’m miserable, I find the misery in everything. It’s a gift seeing the glass full of stuff I’m going to drink even though I was told not too. Everything is amazing and I say that thinking of an old videogame called Primal Rage. I didn’t know the name of it other than that “videogame where the apes and dinosaurs fought like Mortal Kombat during the early 90’s fight game craze”. After scouring the internet like a person with the world at his fingertips should, I found it.
The coolest thing I could ever see as a kid was a toy from a show I watched or a video game I played. I’m sure I gained some amount of charisma from attempting to charm my parents into buying whatever flavor of the minute toy I was into during my early walking years. Walking by Primal Rage toys came to my mind and it occurred to me how easy it is to market to children. That’s my realization for the day. One of those light bulb moments from a cartoon that takes a long time to light up, like understanding what a cliché means but not really understanding it because you have no life experience in that matter yet. Then one day something happens along those lines and you let out a big, “ooooooooooooh, I get it now, time on his hands! Clocks tell time and they have hands! ” while sipping an iced Frappuccino from Mcdonalds because we’re not going to Starbucks this week hombre.
If that analogy doesn’t cut it for you, its like me pronouncing potpourri with the T until I was thirteen. I also pronounced Yosemite like vegemite until I was around eight. Took me a while. I won the school spelling bee in sixth grade on the word “missile toe”.
Also For the rest of this year I will be accepting and also handing out weekly challenges for myself from others. Triple dog dare me to do stuff and I’ll most likely do it.
For example, one of these weeks I will be living in my car off of an allotted amount of canned goods and bottled water. I will only be allowed to access Academic buildings and Carver. Swimming do-gooder and alumni Justin Reppy wanted me to do it last year for charity. I don’t know how that was going to work out but I’m still game. We spit in our hands and shook on it so I have to do it.
Party on Augie.