L
et's recap what's happened to me in the past week:
1. The renovation efforts on my room has been completed. This is a yay! Now my living space is two-and-a-half times bigger than it previously was. In order to make this newly completed room seem less empty - and to reduce the annoying echoes - my sister's stuff from her room has been moved into mine as well. And that still leaves a whole lot of nothing. Let's see: two beds, three computers, two reading tables, a closet, a mirror/closet hybrid, longish-bigish table. I haven't gotten around to lugging my bookshelves from the outside in. Pfft, that's probably why I feel like there's something missing everytime I wake up at night, mindlessly - and in a doze - wandering around my room, searching for some good reading material.
2. Most of my friends already know I'm going to Tasmania, and it has sparked quite a lot of controversy. Everything from swearing undying hate to Australian-themed nicknames. It's okay though, I know they all love me and are just poking fun - or mock disdain - at it because they're going to miss me to bits when I'm gone. Yeah, I know. Who am I kidding, eh?
3. Total lack of interest - "don't give a shit" - in whatever's happening at school which concerns me.
Picking fights with school authorities. [x]
Disregardment of class schedule. [x]
Apathetic towards initial and/or continued warnings/scoldings/advices/whining. [x]
Raping 90% of total female student population. [ ]
Making a mockery of student body and class organization, in general. [x]
If I was a true 'bad boy', I'd probably have done more and worse things. Too bad I'm a good guy at heart, so this is my pathetic attempt at some sort of rebellion against the corrupted and malign forces driving the educational institution every dimwitted moron with half-an-ass for brains calls a school: Riam Road Secondary School.
Fight the powah! Bitch.
Now that that's over, we can get onto some real blogging, a.k.a. ranting! Before we begin, I'd like to direct a minute of my dear readers' attention to our - physical, mental and spiritual, never financial - sponsor. Also my obssession, my lover, and my lawfully wedded partner 'till death do us part.
Amen.
Was there a point to all this? Other than highlighting in crystal-clear clarity my unhealthy fascination in Melbourne Shuffling? Naw, none at all.
I think I must be losing my creative flair - and I hear those of you who scoff and jeer at me with a "what creative flair did you ever have, you egotistical elitist ass-wipe!" - and so am desperately trying to reclaim it by systematically putting down everything which bears a slight resemblance to coherent English sentences in typing as they come to my mind. As I think of it, there must be a big butt-plug-like thing clogging up the tract where all my creative juices used to flow out from. Using that image in mind, if I increase the flow from the source of all my Creativity and then multiply that heightened productivity again - squared to the power of a trillion googolplex - eventually, the butt-plug of writer's-block-doom will be applied with so much pressure that it explodes from the channel with a death-awakening boom and shower of splintered butt-plugs and liquid Creation.
God, I love me.
