Yesterday brought a lot of shock to me all at once. The most inevitably strong example would probably have to be the one saying "Yes, Williamsport really IS an hour and a half away. No, you could not walk there if you had to."
That's tough to live with...but as the Propagandhi lyric goes, Don't try to imagine what's ahead. Let nothing cripple your will. You will cross enormous distance only to arrive with nothing. You will give all you have. If you navigate your way with endurance and success, if you pass the obstacles and still have your life, if you've escaped death, if your guts haven't withered away, if you haven't broken under the strain. That's an excellent song, by the way. So listen to "Cut Into the Earth" if you get the chance. But yeah, as I said last night, "New rule: only you and I can destroy our hopes. Consider everything else an obstacle." Yeah, maybe that song isn't about long distance relationships, but it kind of has a similar message there, maybe. It makes sense to me, so leave me alone.
Another cultural shock was the feeling of being in the middle of an episode of any generic high school town life television show. Carpendale is the closest thing I've come to in walking around a "small town" with lots of houses everywhere. Williamsport has like a Waffle House, a Sheetz, a bunch of stoplights, a cop that lives next door, and you know, the stereotypical features of a small town. I didn't see the old man on the pourch with a gun threatening to kill us if we didn't get off of his lawn, though. That's not a big deal, it was just new to me. Interesting. Glad I don't live in that kind of small town, I guess. At the same time, it'd always be nice to be able to walk to a friend's house. Oh! And the group I was with even was fitting some stereotypes. We were the kids screaming down the streets, fighting in the middle of the road, and ding-dong-ditching. Mature.
If I were any normal person, I'd consider sitting in a bedroom while two girls talked about "girl things" a shock, but I'm used to all of that. All of the names being said meant nothing to me, though. I figure I'll figure out some of the names and associate them with events and faces eventually. Anyway, this brings me to my next subject: "Tay Fin." Or Taylor Finley. Maybe it's Findley. You get the point, though. I'll write on my next post which spelling is correct. Anyway, she wants me to write a blog about her. She'll get the second half of this one (since I have a lot to write about after yesterday).
Umm...Katie (who, if you haven't been reading my blog for a while, is who this whole post so far has been about) had told me that Taylor, her best friend, was umm...easily upset? That's probably not the best way to word it. Let's just say that it's not difficult to offend her by saying one thing in a way that she doesn't understand. I, personally, think that's kind of funny. So meeting her, I wasn't sure what to say when and in response to what. We all walked down to Sheetz (Katie, Taylor, and the 3 or 4 kids Katie was baby-sitting) and Taylor kept staring at me as if I had an unknown wart growing on my face. Maybe that sounds harsh, and I know she's going to be reading this. Anyway, I looked at her and said, "I don't know about you yet...I have to figure you out before I know what I can and can't say around you without pissing you off." She then looked at Katie and said, "Why does he hate me?" See? That's really funny, situationist-style.
Anyway, I think she started catching onto how I'm always an asshole no matter what I say. That being said, she's comfortable enough to sit on a couch next to me and be an asshole back at me. And uhh...she made me wear a scene scarf and the three of us took some bad pictures. So it was somewhat eventful. I'm pretty sure she still thinks I hate her and her reading this isn't going to make her feel any better, I don't think. I think my cat is humping me right now.
I just wrote that last part like 3 hours after writing the first chunk. So my inspiration to write is kind of gone now. Wavelength is gone. I'm back at my dad's, though. That's why I have the cat humping me. Really weird.
I'm thinking about doing some Vlogging one day. You know, it's like this, but I do it in front of a camera. Well, sorta. I guess there's actually a camera right here while I type this, so that's a bad description. Instead of me writing my thoughts, I make a video of them. You probably know that, being of this new generation. My aunt and I talked about blogging and Vlogging and parents starting Facebook accounts to watch their kids and then realizing that they can talk to each other and starting to write in chatspeak. So not only is technology and chatspeak ruining the new generations, but it's ruining the ones before us! Wonderful! So for those of you who write in ideas instead of sentences, I don't like you. Ya fuckin' toolbags! If we don't have school tomorrow, which we may not, this will have been a 6-day weekend.
Oh and so I had to get home before too late last night because of a dentist appointment this morning. So that was kind of shitty, or else I could have stayed longer. Anyway, turns out when we went to Romney this morning and after sitting in the waiting room for 15 minutes, the doctor couldn't come in today to do my fillings. Thanks, assholes, for calling us and letting us know ahead of time. You ruin my life.
I didn't get to read punknews.org yesterday, so I'm gonna go check up on that. And how about the plane crashing and landing in the Hudson? It wasn't the Hudson, was it? I'm probably way off. Oh well. Regardless, the Canadians are sending out terrorist geese to take down US aircrafts. We're all fucked.
P.S. Did I even cover depression? Let's just say I'm a little depressed.