I was looking through one of my old journals from June I think it was. About My Little Pony and how it's got this crazy cult following. Well I made a little comment that I should definately go check out one of those conventions that the fans sometimes setup. So I did, I went to, you guessed it, a brony convention.
So yeah Hallmark Channel. Two straight months of Christmas movies, what the hell? I can't watch The Golden Girls because of this, why Hallmark Channel, why? On an unrelated note, my college lacks a GSA. Now it's probably not a big deal seeing as almost any LGBT person by now has some support somewhere.
So I finally decided to check out the LGBT community center that was way across town. No matter what I was going to get there. Well first off, my mother accidentally took my house keys to work with her. I managed to unlock the door anyway, still works too. Then it turns out there were some detours for my bus route because **** me.
I finally got a chance to see it, thanks to Blockbuster having insane price cuts due to their demise. Man, that documentary. The one kid, Alex I think his name was, he reminded me so much of myself at that age because of the things that he went through. Even so, the whole film spoke volumes.
A few days ago I felt lonely. Friends all busy and such, as I should be. Usually that isn't a problem for me, I just occupy myself with any projects or independent research. But that day I just had no idea of what to do, it was pretty horrible. I cried a little too, but a few hours later I felt fine. Perhaps it was too much sugar or something I ate.
The vestige now but once built in a time that was prosperous. We still see many old houses that lay around, the ones unihabited seemingly depressed. Say for example the house that's en route to my college. It sits, boarded up, decrepit and sags on a failing foundation nearly a century old, yet it remains.
A point where I almost saw a blur between friendship and something more.
Ugh, wish I had more time to write. :-\
I had no idea how blind I used to be, not in the sense of sight though. The more I think about it, there's a real issue here (where I live) that no one's talking about, or maybe aren't aware of. Whenever I'm riding the metro to get to my college I see the houses that are passed. Old, worn, decaying, peeling and decrepit, and yet they're occupied.
Dear That Guy,
you're a pretty cool dude in a few ways. Sure you might be a little socially awkward sometimes and you look at me as if I'm judging you for it. I'm not man, I've been there, sometimes we just never had the time for social skills. But you've been improving, I'm glad. Though that's not really what this is about at all.
That one time I met the voice actor for Ed. Absolutely priceless!
Not that I'm braggin', there were plenty of other people who got to meet him too, heh. :-)
There were times when Oasis was my outlet for when I had a bad day, or when I had a really great one. This is still the place I share things that my friends might not understand but people here would. This place is still, now more recently, a creative outlet. There are some great people here, we all have our bad days and good days.
There was a dream I had about one year ago, perhaps more fitting, a nightmare. This horrible conjuring had never occurred since then, one year ago. It was enough to frighten me, but at the same time enough to let me forget it and move on, to move on in my dreams and adventures in slumber. Only to have it occur once more.
Sometimes far ahead I think,
things will slow and my height will shrink,
when thick lenses weigh down on my nose,
and I'll look at old photos of people in a state of repose.
It doesn't seem like there's a day that goes by and I think about little things. A walk to the bus stop itself seems like more of a tradition now, more than a chore. Two years. Two years of coming and going from that general area. Walking to I think of what I'll experience, walking back I had no idea I'd experience what I did.
I was browsing about at a thrift a few days ago, a few days after the last journal I wrote. I found this nice antique styled Singer sewing machine that was dated about 1951. It was styled after the older ones from the late 19th century to the early 20th. It's little table it was built into had about four little drawers.