Top Ten Reasons To Love LOLCATS 4'sho ^_^;;

So up till now I did serious stuff but I have to confess my love for lolcats and why you should love them too.

1. They make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. 
2. It is original ... you have to admit.
3. They have their own language (Kitty Pigin).
4. The captions are white ... pretty white.
5. It makes people believe you have too much time on your hands. Because according to their logic what busy person would have time to look up cats.
6. Busy people who are stressed can become de-stressed by lolcats. (it has been clinically proven)

Ok so I can't find another 4 things to say but just look at these pictures.

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Bathroom Introspection

This was an interior monologue I wrote one day during class. I tried to capture my thoughts that happened when going to the bathroom. ^_^

Going to the restroom. Christ I need to go pee bad. I am walking to the restroom. I hope no one is in there because it's awkward when there is. Big girls don't cry dun dun duhhhhh. That song was never really too catchy. In the restroom now. Oh laws of physics someone is at the urinals. I'll use a stall then. Lock the door... it won't lock. UGH WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN TO ME!!!!!!! Shouldn't they have fixed this stall by now? Maybe I should tell a teacher or something. They hold the power at this school ... I think. Well the principal-nator has the supreme power. Okay screw thh lock if someone walks in, I'll just walk out. I'm safe at school... safe. Restrooms still freak me out. Ever since those park sex scandals in the restrooms. Also those Republican dudes sex scandels. Man Lincoln must be turning in his grave when he looks at the Republican party.

Wow there is no toliet paper in the dispenser. What if I had to take a crap ... I'd be screwed. Time to go pee. Unzip the zipper and aim. Oh crap hitting the seat!!!! Adjust. Ok good. I wonder if Jesus peed. Wow think of deities peeing. How weird ... Buddha. Did he pee in a toliet ? India is a cool place. I want to visit the big Buddha statue there before I die and see the Jains. To sweep the floor so you won't step on bugs... those nonviolence practices own Ghandi's. I wonder if Ghandi like peeing sitting up or down. I prefer standing it's faster. Care bears pee rainbows!!!! Well I don't know that for sure but it's possible. Ok done peeing. Zip up zipper and time to wash hands.

Wow the water faucet is stuck .. the water is flowing. Soap up hands and rinse. A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q ... do you have to sing the whole alphabet to really wash your hands. Maybe Trish lied. I wonder it we are going to the hospital. Didn't Joyce say sing "Happy Birthday" twice? Eh scrw this. Dry the hands. Paper towels are so rough. Ah!!! there is a mirror. My hair is curly.. why thought? Maybe it has to do with atom structure. I want to go to Berkeley. Can I get in though? Hmmm What was that songs name? I'm walking up the stairs... oh freak I almost fell. Woah I could have died. What if I did? Who would get my stuff? "Hey Aaron!!!" Oh wow Jenny just said that. Open door to class. I'm walking in.

This is my free write I did for class. We were allowed to write about anything. After watching a movie about drunk driving and teenage suicide on lifetime this came out. I originally wrote this in eighth grade but rewrote it this year to see how different it would come out. I like it even though I am not convinced it is the best I can do.

The chilly wind seemed to blow as if it was trying to play a game with the ancient trees. The massive existences proved nature's dominance over the man made objects that were nestled into the lush green grass. This place almost seemed like it was severed from time and the surrounding world that the trees blocked out. This place would be pleasant even joyful as if you should see children running along the grass laughing without a care in the world. But this place was far from that. It's presence brought respect out in everyone except maybe a few robustious teens. When entering the place you felt a veil of silence being put over you. Words that were spoken were said softly.

I stood in this place on a cold May afternoon. My being seemed out of place after standing there for so long just staring at what was in front of me. The setting sun was the only reminder that time still did exist even in places like these. I've never seen an animal in this place, not even an insect. They knew all to well the power that resides over it. My tears lingered down from my eyes, to the side of my nose, and finally onto my lips where they ended. My tears were the only smell I cared to smell. Warm and moist with a hint of salt. The best therapeutic smell that ever could exist in my opinion.

Cool tears stained my arms as my warm body battled against the silky algidity in front of me. I was surprised by how formidable my composition was. Before coming here I thought I would break down but I held myself together. Even if it was just because of the algidity my body was battling against. I never thought I would be standing in this place. No one ever thinks about standing in this place unless they are a hopeless pessimist. Eventually everyone ends up here to finally rest.

At the beginning of this year I could never have imagined certain events happening but they all did. Each one tearing away the black and white world that I saw. A world caked in innocence. Now I see the world with all it's vivid colors. Their impressive and overwhelming state make this world slightly more scary to live in than before. The colors even have smells. Like the smell of alcohol and the horrid way it stuck onto someone's breathe. Or the ear splitting sound of the color that came from hearing someone's contemplation of suicide.

Everyone eventually sees these colors and lose some if not all of that black and white world. Each person's story is different. Alone any of us could look like the bad guy or the person who caused all the suffering the colored world has to offer. But together you see the full story and how each person slowly led to their our salvation or destruction. For you see in my small understanding that's how life plays out. You can't blame other people for anything. Things happen because they happen. No one can change events and dwelling is just useless. You have to take the steps to eventually accept what happened and use it as strength not as some weight attached to you.

"Ein..." I heard her whisper my name softly and it emerged me from my thoughts for just a second. The algidity was the girl in front of me. Her usually warm body cold. For she stood in front of something that brought her immense pain and sadness. Something that was put there two days ago. She didn't say anything else and we just stood there in the cemetery. Both of us just staring at the grave.

The grave marked the place of a decaying body that lied six feet under. The body was slowly rotting away and it being there almost showed disrespect to the person who once possessed it. I held my friend close to me and heard her sobbing. I could do nothing now. Sometimes when you think of it you never expect people to get into the car after drinking. Or for them to make a mistake. Maybe, just maybe you never thought that you out of all drivers could get into a car accident while the person that was throwing up in the back seat didn't care to attach a seat-belt to the buckle. But it was people like you, that never did think, that killed people like him. Like my friend's brother.

Then people like me are stuck with the emotions that tend to plague our nightmares. Grief, sadness, and a terrible welling that starts in your stomach and seems to soak the rest of your cells. When someone dies they aren't the only one who die. No that would be much to black and white. Instead you see the grief of a mother, the tears of a sister, and then you get the thoughts of a friend. The thoughts that I held so precariously to.

Eulogies and Obituary

Note to teacher: Ask for them because I didn't want to post them up.

Merry Musings

One day while listening to the Japanese band Merry this just popped into my head. Oh and when I talk about church and preacher in here I'm talking about a cult. The boy is in a cult. I repeat cult. So please don't feel angry or offended if your religious.

The lights were dimly lit and the wind blew very gently swaying the shadows they casted ever so gently. He smiled with a gentle air about him as he lit candle after candle. The squeaky old boards that surrounded him seemed to whisper to him to continue. This old attic was alive tonight. Down to the cobwebbed crevices and dusty corners. A single broken window laid to one side of the attic perfectly broken. I say perfectly because it allowed wind to go through in such a way that it gave off a howling like sound.

Now the boy finished lighting the last of the 60 candles and their weak glow made chills go through his arms. He laid in the middle of the attic letting the cold wind rush over him. This was his secret hideout. A place adults could not linger or the fears of modern day city bustle couldn't touch him. Other people were so odd to him. Busy creatures working faster and faster. They always had something to do or somewhere to be. In this modern age they were gifted with technology and countless conveniences but they still couldn't do things fast enough.

He watched as one of the candles was blown out by the wind. He didn't bother to get up and light it. Why fight with nature? The boy had no idea of the storm coming. If he did he probably would have left for the church a while back. A cage or better yet a conformist institution ran by a totalitarian style preachers who seemed to lurk in every rule they imposed. Today he was lucky. While at church there was that brief chance to slip to here. His hiding place that was covered by orderless candles and several boxes of matches.

He picked this house because it was abandoned. Unlike other abandoned houses this one kept a sense of decency. It withstood the natural decay of time and stood proud, owner-less but proud. Rain started gently pattering onto the roof and the boy looked up. He didn't have much time left in this sanctuary. He quickly went to every candle and blew their little flame out as gently as he lit them. No need for him to be rough when they fought so hard to stay lit. As he reached the last candle he blew it out with regret. Regret for having to leave this place. Regret for being born into a society such as this one.

The boy climbed through the window and felt the light drizzle of rain hit him. Its cold wetness went through his shirt. The shingles on the roof that he was standing on were slippery and he edged his way slowly to where vines safely laid for him to climb down. Once he was down he started to equip himself with his church persona. He ran towards the church once his feet decided to move. Each step bringing him closer to the world he tried to ignore. Another 6 days and a half in this world until he could return to the sweet confines of his solitude. That abandoned house on the corner of Mulberry Street.

insert text here

A piece of Simon.

This is actually a piece of a project I am doing for my English class. In it we had to write a character journal about someone from Lord of the Flies. I choose the character Simon since it seemed like he mystified me the most. After writing the journal I realized I am a lot like him. To this day he remains my favorite character in literature.

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After I saw the faux beast that stood up with his parachute on the mountainside, I realized what the real beast was talking about. My throat lusted for drips of water and my body was trying to fall into the black abyss of sleep to regain energy, which it had been stripped of during the last couple of hours. But I couldn't listen to my body. I had to get down the mountain. I had to save the rest of the boys. Save them from themselves.

I made my way down the mountainside and felt my senses flash on and off. My body wasn't telling me to go but something else was. Something much deeper that seemed to lead my limp body towards the direction I needed to go. Each step I took my senses continued to flash on and off. I was living in an alternative world when they were off. A world that allowed me to see things in people that otherwise would not be seen. Not their faces or their bodies but things that made them tick. What made Piggy, Ralph, Jack, and even me go and continue to survive. This view of the world flickered on and off trading with the world that my senses gave me.

In the alternative world I felt the boys all together. I shuffled through some bushes and made my way to where they were. They were overrun by rampant fear and it reached down into all of them slowly chocking the ethics and reason out of their soul. What they feared was me, the bearer of what really was happening. The most afraid was the snake, Jack. I felt them surrounded me and my senses flopped back into working. Their chanting was rhythmically loud and along with the heat of their bodies it caved me into their inner workings. Workings of savagery, would cause them to harm me. My body felt beats and stabs from blunt spears. Skin tore and I tried to speak, tried to warn them. But my voice was lost within their ritualistic rendezvous with fear. They kept on repeating, "Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood! Do him in!"

While my body was being twisted with pain my senses switched off and I was there during the first day of the island. Standing in the middle I had Jack to my right and Ralph to my left. All the boys stood behind Ralph and the conch. Jack's face was twisted and blood was on his hands. Red blood, that glimmered in the sunlight. Its metallic smell and taste seemed to reach my mouth and nose. I knew it reached the others boy’s mouth's and nose's too. Drawing them ever so slowly the blood made boys switch sides. Each boy that left Ralph to join Jack made the blood spread a little on Jack's arms. It turned the skin that it covered with its sticky texture to scales.

Jack became something else with the blood covering him. He was a red snake with green eyes and a flickering tongue that tasted what made the boys fear. Slithering and hissing, he made his way around Ralph, coaxing more and more boys. Promising them, luring them, blinding them. Ralph blew the conch and the boys on Jack's side looked at him. They listened for a while leaving Jack powerless. For the boys he manipulated gave him power. He stood fixed on Ralph, the snake charmer and waited.

Soon Ralph's breath ran out and the conch’s trumpet sound ended. Ralph's charm ended on Jack. Jack's boys looked back lustfully at him; the boy, no the snake, who would bring them meat. The boy covered in the pigs and soon my own. The boys on Ralph's side continued to fall to Jack until the only one was left on Ralph's side. It was Piggy. The conch was cracking and Ralph could not charm Jack again. Jack towered above them all. Jack, now covered fully in blood, started to do just the opposite. He enticed the snake charmer. Now Ralph and Piggy went to stand behind Jack and I felt the snake's eyes look at me.

My senses flashed on again and I felt pain. I saw all the boys, even Ralph, my hero in the circle around me. I stumbled through their circle and made my way towards the edge of a cliff. They followed and all jumped on me. I felt them bite, scratch, stab, and worst of all the rhythmic pound of fists that matched their chanting. Through each pound of a fist or savage tear at my skin I heard the laughing of the beast. "I told you, you were going to have fun." He said it mockingly. "These boys think you're batty. Too bad you are or maybe they would have listened to you." His laugh pierced into me trying to break apart who I was. My heart was wrapped in the laugh and I felt tears come to my eyes.

"Break down little Simon. Why don't you fight back little Simon?" I didn't want to listen to his words. I wanted to say something to him but this time my tongue wasn't the only thing that swelled. My body swelled from the beatings and I couldn't move it. Once my body had enough of the beating the pain went to my soul. The beast's laughs turned more sinister and then they ended. The boys scattered as rain started to fall. I knew I was dead on the sand. I’m now in a place out of the beast’s grasp. Elevated above it all I watched my body leak blood as the sand around it hungrily slurped it up. I had won against the beast. It may have destroyed my body but my soul did not break. My soul withstood the beast’s hate, anger, savagery, and even that mocking laugh. That mocking laugh, the only thing I think I truly ever despised.

Midnight Monsters

For this story we had to write a childhood narrative.

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The clock struck nine P.M. and I felt a wave of excitement run through me. Tonight would be the first night I slept by myself in my own room. I could tell tonight was going to be a brave new journey into the previously unexplored life of sleeping alone. Before my sister and I had our beds in the same room, which forced us to put up with each other.

I practically jumped for joy for her annoying tendencies in the morning would finally cease to annoy me. For some reason even to that day I still was annoyed by her waking me up playing with her Barbies. Especially when she tried to pretend one was a boy since she had no boy Barbies. Plus on those mornings when I refused to get up I wouldn’t feel her strong brute punch in the stomach as an alarm clock.

I perked up my head when I heard the familiar call from my parent’s room telling us to go to bed. I ran to my room not even waiting for the second more threatening call. Each step allowed thoughts of freedom to be unburied from the recess of my subconscious and those thoughts rang through my mind. How grow up I was finally being able to sleep by myself.

“Sparky, Scooby, Fest, Pug, and Steve.” I said addressing my stuffed animals as if I was a military commander. “Tonight we are on our own.” I lined them up on my headboard and looked all around my new room. It looked like my sister’s room. Plain white walls and a single old bed with a creaky mattress that had several springs that stood higher than the others which really hurt your back if you slept the wrong way. The glorious difference in this room was my sister wasn’t in it.

The first several minutes of me trying to sleep were peaceful bliss until I noticed how the darkness around me could be concealing monsters or some other kind of horrible beast. My mind ran rampant with those thoughts. It spun sounds of their shallow breathing and wove images of them by my bed. Even the dark seemed to take life of its own accord for it become suffocating.

Fear gripped me in the usual tight dictated way. I started to take slower breaths and I wish I had super strength like superman or one of those power ranger morph coins that turned them into their powerful alter ego. Heck I would even settle for batman’s utility belt. I would do anything to ease the cursed fear that paralyzed my body.

My mind ran to my emergency plan for monsters due to the realization that super powers or any useful coins or belts wouldn’t find their way to me at that moment in time. “Ok run to mom and dad while they eat my sister.” I whispered. Then it came to me like a ball hitting you on the head. There is no sister snoring in this room for them to attack first. I was vulnerable and could imagine the monsters looking at my pale skin and seeing it as a glow in the dark snack a mist the darkness.

I heard a movement from my doorway and begged my body to move. It listened and I quickly grabbed one of my stuffed animals and held it close to me. I looked down at it and realized it was my neon orange dog Sparky. In my own mind he could shock anyone and it made him the perfect choice to clutch to. My mind filled with fear and thoughts which all contained the phrase I am too young to die in it. I decided that Sparky’s ability to shock would also make him not only an ideal protector but an ideal weapon as well. So I launched Sparky at the intruder by the doorway. “Sorry good old friend,” I said already feeling guilty for betraying a close ally and loved one.

I heard Sparky’s body hit something and froze again. “Ouch! What are you doing you dummy?” I rejoiced for it was my sister’s bossy voice. I also gulped knowing I would probably regret throwing Sparky at her. Still the monsters from my imagination faded like a nightmare’s hold on you, with her presence in the room. That alone made any future regret I would feel from her future punch bearable.

I felt tears flood my eyes filled with relief and joy that tonight for the time being I would be safe. My eyes shut quickly as the light from the lamp my sisters turned on flooded my eyes. I squinted them and noticed she was crying too. I wonder why my brave older sister would be crying. It couldn’t be because she had monster troubles too.

“They can’t do this to us,” she said in between sobs. I agreed despite the fact that an hour ago I hated sharing a room with my sister. She turned off the lamp and laid down next to me. Together we fell asleep.

To this day I still don’t know why my sister was crying since my move back into her room the next day seemed to annoy her more than anything. I choose to not ask her and let that one question from my childhood still plague my thoughts every now and then. Some nights as I lay in my bed at night I chuckle at my past self. I admire his imagination that became reality and the relief that his dictator of a sister brought him.

Just another firework going off.

For this story we had to write a childhood memory of a serial killer. I tried to go for a less sensational story as instructed. It was done in the time period of around 15 to 30 minutes. My killer was the Son of Sam.

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It was The Fourth of July and I was not in a very good mood due to the humidity and hot sun. The day had not gone well especially since I got in trouble several times by my mother. Each time because I couldn’t keep still and watch TV like a good boy. For my punishment I received a swift smack from a broom or any other object that was near to my mom and didn’t have sharp edges. It was seven and the sun was barley starting to go down leaving all the other neighborhood kids waiting anxiously so we could start the fireworks.

I was different than all of them because I could wait patiently for things like that, things that excited me. Like a tiger waiting till its prey moved just into the right place. I could wait forever till the excitement started. The couch I was laying on had a spring sticking out and it was really uncomfortable. My mother entered the room and I quickly straightened up to a sitting position. “Hurry up and come outside,” She said with a ruff voice due to her obsessive chain smoking.

I followed her outside as we watched my older brother light fireworks (most of which were illegal) and our fellow neighborhood kids follow after them. I was at once transfigured into my place by the beauty of the light show and the elegant ear splitting whistle they gave off. My eyes didn’t move as my brother lit another one. I was enthralled when it started sending out more colors and lights. Even the whistle of this one was louder.

The urge to run forward and touch it was immense but I was scared of how my mother would react. Especially if the task it ended with her hitting me again. While I was mulling over that thought a beautiful girl with blonde hair was trying to light a firework. I watched, as it didn’t work. With a loud bang it exploded leaving her face charred from one of the upcoming flames as she screamed. My eyes opened wide and for some reason I couldn’t break my eyes off as everyone ran off to help her. Something about that fixated itself in my soul. A weird metallic taste erupted into my mouth due to the image. I decided I liked that taste. I stood there and watched while people fussed not moving and thankful no one got in my view. How brilliant the image.

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This wasn't my best story ... just so you know.