A Bunch of Randomly Random Stuff

Disclaimer: This post is from the archives, and may not represent the current views of the author. It also may not be at all interesting to read. Continue at your own peril!

Restraining yourself from beating up someone or something is very hard. Right now I’d like to beat up Kyle for always scheduling practices with little or no warning – or rather, just calling practices for any time that he wants. It’s very frustrating. I mean, I had planned to get together with Lana and Beth to work on our sonnet for English at 6:00 PM, but now there’s apparently a practice tonight at 8:30 – one that I just found out about today when Bethany brought it up. So basically, I’ll be working on this sonnet for a couple hours and then driving over to the church. I guess it sort of works out since I’m going to the Tozers to work on it, so I can just take my bass along, then give Jordan a ride when it’s time to go, but still, I’d prefer some more advanced notice. But I suppose we need a practice to get ready for Sunday night; this coming Sunday is Pastor Dave’s farewell, although he isn’t really going anywhere. He’s just resigning, but he’s still staying at the church for the time being, anyway.

Anyways, other than that, it was a pretty average day. Steph and Melissa were away at CAASO Track and Field helping out or something, which was kind of annoying since I wanted to talk to them and sort some things out today. I mean, I knew they were going to that thing, but I had forgotten, so then when I remembered, it was slightly frustrating. Oh well. I’m pretty much just going to give up on this whole thing; it was their idea in the first place. Steph’s been pestering me for a while, and then when I finally give her an answer, nothing comes of it anyway. So I figure that if they want me to do something, they had better do it themselves or tell me exactly what they’re friggin’ wanting. And to all of you who don’t know what I’m talking about in this paragraph, that’s alright – let’s just say that they’re females and leave it at that. That simple fact alone should help you realize my frustration with them, no matter what the situation is.

With that said, and my increasing apathy toward the situation, I do want to get this whole thing figured out. They’re confusing me, and the mixed messages of one certain person (hint: it’s not Steph or me) aren’t helping. The fact is that I could really care less; not saying she’s not important or anything, but I like things how they are, and I’d rather keep them that way rather than run the risk of making things worse while in the process of trying to make things better. I mean, that always seems to happen when there are females involved. You just can’t try and guess what they want, or you’ll inevitably get it wrong, because they’ll change their mind on you as soon as you make your decision. So the best thing is to just let them come and tell you what they want – although that doesn’t usually happen. The next best thing is to just sit tight and wait it out until you have enough evidence as to what they want, and then do the exact opposite so that when they change their mind, you’ll suddenly be right. I can’t explain it any clearer than that, because I don’t understand it any better than that.

Anyways, I could go on with this topic of women, but I’ve really quite given up on trying to understand them. The best thing I can do is to just be myself, not try to impress them, and have some friendly fun with them until they figure out what the heck they want. So I’ll just quit talking about this whole stupid thing, because it’s giving me a headache. Speaking of headaches, I have to try and figure out how to best approach my dad to get the new Toyota for tonight, which could possibly be quite difficult depending on what he wants to do tonight. Fortunately, I don’t think he’s doing anything, so I don’t think he’ll have a viable excuse to throw out to me, though I suspect he’ll try and think up a few lame ones anyway. Then it’s off to a hectic night, first dealing with stupid poetry, and then moving right along into playing bass until my fingers get all ripped open. Well, maybe not ripped open, but they’re definitely starting to get as tough as leather now, which is certainly making it hard for me to pick my nose. Wait, did I just say that? I meant that it’s getting hard for me to pick up objects; yes, that’s it. Oh boy. I should just quit while I’m ahead.

2 responses to “A Bunch of Randomly Random Stuff”


Dear Mr. God.

Being Sexist and blaming fustrations on Women, and Blaming Women for all your troubles, and how we are misleading and hard to deal with, is not being a NICE PERSON. Isn’t that what you want to be? a nice church go’er.
I thought so. So stop the nasty women comments.


First off, I’m not sexist. If I were, I wouldn’t be trying to set something up to go out with a girl I like right now. But, I don’t think like women. I’m a guy, and guys think much differently than women. I don’t blame women for all my troubles, but when people think differently, it causes conflict, and that can cause frustration. This isn’t just a problem between guys and girls, but that’s the situation I’m dealing with right now. It’s on my mind, and I write about what’s on my mind.

Girls are misleading, and they are hard to deal with, simply because they’re women. They’re different than me. Girls, of course, don’t think so, because they think the same way as other girls. They obviously understand each other, just like I understand what goes through guys’ minds. It’s called the frustration of trying to do something when you just don’t know how, because the person you’re dealing with has a completely different way of doing something than you do. That’s what I’m writing about. Perhaps I’ve been expanding my blog to include all women, which is probably too much of a generalization, but just be aware that it’s mostly talking about one or two girls in particular.

Thank you for your comment, your criticism of my personal beliefs, and my criticism of my “niceness.” There’s a difference between being nasty and being sarcastic, and I like to dance that fine line quite often. I’m aware that I’m not perfect, and am far from it, and I don’t appreciate people telling me my faults when I’m quite aware of them and also quite aware of the fact that the person telling me is no better than I am. You have your faults, I have mine. An encouraging word is helpful; a bitter comment about someone’s fault is only damaging. I could write books and books on my enormous faults, but at least I’m working on them. Case closed.