On my mind.

Right now, I'm a little chilly. But I'll manage.

Right now, I have a little cold. But It'll be gone tomorrow.

Right now, I'm tired. But I have a warm bed to sleep in tonight.

Right now, my homework lies blank. But I'll do it eventually.

Right now, I'm a little hungry. But I have food to eat.

Right now, I lie alone in this room. But I have friends I can talk to.

Right now, I wonder what I'll get for Christmas. But I know I'll get something.

Right now, I worry about college. But I got accepted.

Tomorrow, some of these worries will wash away.

In time, all worries will disappear.

-

Right now, he is freezing. It's hard to stay warm with the rags he calls clothes.

Right now, she is ridden with sickness. She can only hope her condition gets better.

Right now, he is exhausted. He wonders where he can lay his frail bones tonight.

Right now, he clutches a ratty, torn book. He dreams he could go to school.

Right now, she is curled in a ball, holding her sides. She hasn't eaten in days.

Right now, he twiddles his dirty thumbs. He wishes someone would reach out to him.

Right now, he wonders what it's like to receive a Christmas present.

Right now, he is unsure what will befall him tomorrow. He wonders if living another day is possible, much less worth it.

Tomorrow, they all might be gone.

In time, more wretched souls will find themselves in the same place.

Whether it's lending a hand, volunteering, giving, feeding, talking, comforting, or even smiling; any act of charity can overcome the worries of today, with the promise of tomorrow.

-Con.

Eminem would be proud.

Props if you understand the title.


Hey. So remember when I said I was converting this into a video blog? Well enough of you told me to keep this blog alive so I will. However, I'll be teaming up with my numbskull friends to make some sketch comedy and other video shtuffy-stuff. Be fearful.


During the short duration of my break, I found the absence of blogging to be frustrating and...boring. Turns out I have a secret love for embarrassing my family via blogging. I also miss all the constructive criticism from anonymous people (wow, that was an awful attempt at sarcasm. Eh, I'm rusty), and the two people in Denmark who read this. Much love. Don't assume I'm getting soft on you guys though; I assure you I'm still a dry, calloused, evil person.

Kiss me.

Well dudes and dudettes, I have to finish cleaning my basement, since somebody figured salsa would look much better caked to the floor, rather than in a bottle. WHY NATHANIEL? WHY? I suppose its ultimately my fault for having a party. I apologize for the abruptness of this post, but I will further re-ignite our love's fire tomorrow.

Today's Random Song Pick: Pinch Me - Bare Naked Ladies.

Heartbreaking News. Not Really.

Today marks the end of my blog. Sort of.

Haha. My giant ego is hoping that thousands of women around the world are now weeping hysterically. Wishful thinking I suppose.

To the three people that actually read my blog, you shant worry. I am officially converting my blog into a vlog (video-log). I have two main reasons for doing this.

1. A lot of people have told me my writing is sub-par. That's actually not a reason; just a chance for me to say: HOP OFF. The reason is that I feel I can better express myself with some sexy face time.

2. I'm a terribly self-absorbed narcissist and love to watch myself.

However, I might keep this blog if enough people want me to, or if you think the vlog idea is stupid.

Question Time #2

Here are some more unanswerable questions:

1. Why can't women give good directions? We live in a technologically advanced age, why can't they simply just give us an address so we can actually use our GPS? Why do girl directions always sound like,  "okay so you know where that red thingy is by the highway? Yeah you're gonna go past that like 5 miles and then you're gonna see a homeless man selling crack. Tip him five dollars and he'll point you towards my house". The best part is, you'll be completely lost later, and you'll call them for help, but when they pick up there is just a chorus of squirrelly laughter because she and her friends were laughing about Taylor Lautner's abs.

Somewhere, a girl is crying.

2. What happened to rock music? Is there no hope? I know our local rock stations kind of stink, but modern rock artists certainly are not helping. C'mon guys. Don't let my favorite genre go to ruins.

3. Who cares about the speed of light, what is the speed of dark? Actually, no just kidding. I hate when people ask that question, thinking they've surely upset the balance of the universe with their witty questioneering. Darkness is the absence of light, in other words: exactly the opposite. So the answer is the same speed as light*.

4. Why can't term papers edit themselves? It's bloody 2010 for poop's sake.

5. Why do people repeat the exact same thing to you right after you say it to them? I can understand general things like, "sup man", but it really bothers me when I spend an entire day thinking of an absolutely ingenious comment to tell somebody. For example, If I say: "Hey bra, what's crackin?", would you say: "Hey bra, what's crackin?" right back? I hope not. If you do, I have been known to foam at the mouth.

*If for some insane reason my theory is wrong, please buy me a boat so I can row out to an island and live there, crying till the end of my days.

-Con 

Your Word Is as Good as Poop.

So remember last week when I said I'd do a thousand things and be a better blogger? Do you remember it happening? Of course not. I'm a dirty liar. Sorry about that. Usually, I'd be able to sleep quite toasty and at an ease of mind knowing that. That is, until someone told me how bad I really am when it comes to lying.

Hmm.

My first reaction was to purposefully take a sip of water only to spit it out violently in exasperated protest (we were having lunch). How could that be bad?, I thought. It's my blog, I DO WHAT I WANT. Who cares if I say something and not do it? Nobody thats who. At this point I was feeling pretty smug about my argument, and my classic look of condescension was surmounting my face:

slightly scruffy, but not out of reason.

Yes. I had brought my petty, lunch-date fool to his knees. I was victorious. Before we went our separate ways, this jester pulled quite the parthian shot as he was climbing into his car. I will never forget what he said:

"Connor, I dare you to try to not lie once tomorrow. You won't be able to do it."

Okay. Challenge accepted. Punk. I love my close friends, and I respect him... but he couldn't stop this, I'm as clean as a whistle.

Oh boy.

My lie-free streak lasted a whopping five minutes into the next morning. My mom had asked me if I did my homework last night. I said yes, knowing in instant that word squeaked out of my pre-pubescent vocal chords, that I had already failed. Of course, I only rationalized that this must be a fluke in the system; I was better than this. With purpose in my footsteps I ran out the door and into my car, seeping with paranoia at the thought of telling another lie. Not a minute later, my phone rang. Somebody was wondering if I had plans for that night. This guy didn't even have a chance: I replied yes and promptly said the "sorry bro maybe next time" line. A second later I hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. I sat there and collected my thoughts. A grandma honked at me. LAY OFF GRAMS. As I sat there with my car idling, and cars whizzing by, it hit me. I am a liar, through and through. Even though I didn't really know that guy who called me very well, I didn't even give him the benefit of the doubt... just a lie. The longer I sat there, the more instances I could recall where I have totally lied to my friends and family, without a conscious or care.

I suddenly felt very sick. The kind of dull pain that rises from your bowels and into your chest, and seems to drag your heart down. I was just fortunate to have people around me that still trust me after all of my lies and omissions. I'm sorry this post just got all heavy on you. But since then, I have tried to quit my addiction to lying, and so far: It's been eye opening. If you get anything out of this post tonight, just know that lying is a poison. It digs into you every-time you coverup and make false excuses. It feeds off you. If you are a liar, then please, let's try to quit the habit together. I wish I was talking about cocaine.. 

Well. Now that you are officially sad/weirded out, watch this Jim Carey video. Its hard not to like this guy: Karate Instructor

Goodnight everyone.

Boo!

What kind of sick person could do this to me? My heart is curled into a pulpy, flopping mess on the floor; my mind minced into brew. I am lost beyond all realms of human emotion, my soul roaming in a wasteland of bitter nothingness. My eyes have become scaled with ignorance, my fingers no longer fear the roar of fire. My tongue can only taste the sorrow of horrible mutilations molded into its once pink splendor. You wonder what kind of person? No, not a person at all.

Whoa whoa whoa, hey. Guys I'm not emo. I'm only speaking of course, of candy.
Heh.
Your first thought when beginning to read that was probably, "I hate Connor, I hope all of these unfortunate fates really befell him!"
As you continued to peruse my anecdote, your thoughts probably went a little like, "Man, I will feel really bad if I look in the newspaper tomorrow and Connor's corpse is pictured strewn across the highway".
Finally, when you realized that I was actually talking about candy...well honestly you probably left your desk, grabbed ye' olde shotgun, and are now en-route to come murder me personally. In that case my time is limited. Let me explain why I get so emotional about candy.

As a child, Halloween was undoubtably tied with Christmas for my favorite holiday. I didn't enjoy it for the costumes, parties, or scary flicks on AMC; I was in it for the candy. YES. My tubby little legs would prance about the neighborhood, cutting through yards and across the sidewalk to collect as many tasty treats as possible (I didn't jump fences though. No way. I scraped my leg once). As I approached each door, panting from child obesity, my chunky little fingers would play that doorbell like Liberace.

He's a piano player, obviously.

Now I was (and still am) a fine connoisseur of candy. It was only the best of the best for me. One could usually find a line of rejected candies following me home as I tossed them onto the street. In all my years of looting sugary pleasures, not ONCE have I devoured a candy unsatisfactory to my taste-buds. NOT ONCE. Come this Halloween, and I nearly found myself on the brink of death. Death by candy. Now, one could reason my candy discernment skill had become rusty as of recent, and I am to blame. NO. WRONG. People these days disguise the most vile abominations of candy by wrapping them similarly to the sweets we've come to treasure. How dare they. I feel betrayed, candy companies. Why would you ever make banana flavored lemon heads? THEY'RE BOTH YELLOW.

I'm sorry. I almost lost myself there. My only hope, is that you didn't experience the same travesty as I.

-Con

Apology.

Wow. I'm noticing a lot of my recent posts begin with an apology for not posting for several days. That concludes that I am just the worst blogger in history. But you're reading this right now, which means you are the worst blog reader in history. <3 much love.

OKAY. I vaguely remember promising that thursdays would be Tip of The Hat/ Bite of The Thumb Thursdays. I haven't been doing that. This Thursday will fulfill your longing for thumb bites. I promise.

Only Canadians.

Well, even though I feel really guilty for not blogging in a while, I have a goliath of homework waiting in my room. I have a frivolous batch of ideas frothing about in my brain, just waiting for fruition, but sadly I am time-disabled. You can all blame Calculus. Curses.

Sorry ya'll. Tomorrow I will blow your pants off with more alliterations. Stay chill.

Glenwood Cheering Stimulus Plan.

HEY. I haven't posted in 3 days. I apologize for the laziness. Please still accept me and invite me to social events. PLEASE. I'm a little jittery right now, and no, it's not because of drugs; I'm just itching to tell you something. This post is perhaps the most important post I will ever write. ever. AND it strictly pertains to Glenwood High School.

We all know our student section is mediocre. Scratch that. It's loathsome. A local newspaper recently cited several excellent student sections, not including Glenwood. Now, I know we are not raiders fans:

You are never too old to embarrass your wife.

but we are quickly being pinned as the weakest cheering section in the CS8 (with a capable football team). SO, in order for us to not leave a lingering legacy of a loathsome, lazy, and lamenting student section; we must strive for volume, vulgarity, and increase the viscosity of the valor in our veins! A few patriots have come up with some revolutionary ideas for us to pry open a can of whoop-ass.

You can't censor nature.

Here are some of the ideas myself, StuCo, and others have devised:


1. Have a flag bearer, for football, waving a majestic flag with the GT logo embossed upon every time we score. This could also work for basketball.


2. Move the student section for basketball back to the other side of the gym, except this time put us behind our own team. This way we can keep Rourke happy and be in the better side of the gym.


3. Have shirts for different types of nights. Black shirts for "lights out" and white shirts for "white out". These would have the Glenwood fight song on the back, SINCE NOBODY KNOWS IT. To my shame I also do not know it, BUT this would make it hella-easy.


4. PARTY BUS. This is my favorite idea. Remember when we used to have a fan bus when our teams went to state? This is the cooler version. When we go to away games, a bus full of raucous students would show up, blasting 80's dance music, and sirens blazing. So, instead of our fans showing up one by one, the away gym would instantly be filled with a bunch of rowdy Glenwood students. Don't think we're not rowdy. WE IGNITE FLAMETHROWERS IN THE BATHROOM DOG. Real talk.


5. Have better cheers. Pretty simple really. A few people in the front of the cheering section will yell out what they want to do, and all the rest of us will have to do is follow suit. 


People of Glenwood, we can do this. All we really need to do is step out of that comfort zone, and say a cheer for once. We only go through the high school experience once, so why not try and make it worth remembering?


Shout out to Mark Riseman. A good looking guy.


-Connor.

Sound.

I am totally convinced that mankind would crumble apart without music. We cannot fathom how many functions music serves to keep our world intact. Music surmounts all barriers; whether they be racial, mental, or situational. It can match any emotion or event with its immense variety and depth of every feeling. It has certainly been there for me, always revealing itself in times of need, and I know its been there for you too.

Here is a list of a few songs (not in any sort of order) that have helped me keep my sanity:

1. Dig by Incubus

    This song has a really good message, thats applicable to almost everybody.

2. Soundtrack 2 My Life by Kid Cudi

    This guy has so much thought worked into his songs. Its almost like the modern version of blues.

3. Jumper by Third Eye Blind

    I wonder how many friendships this song has saved. Very inspiring.

4. I Miss You by Incubus

    I know I already have an Incubus song, but if you've ever lost somebody - you will appreciate this one.

5. Gravity by John Mayer

    He's really overplayed sometimes, but he's still good. Really like the mood of this song.

6. Breathing by Yellowcard

    A little whiny, but really like the mix of instrumentals this band offers.

7. Panic Prone by Chevelle

    One of my all time favorite songs, by my favorite band.

8. Clocks by Coldplay

    That one movie with Paul Rudd almost ruined this one for me, but it's super chill.

9. Hole In The Earth by Deftones

    This song is actually pretty heavy, but I like the ambient vocals. 

10. Under The Bridge by The Red Hot Chili Peppers

    Yet another of my all time favorite songs, by my second favorite band.

I kinda realized this list mostly consists of slower, melancholy songs, so don't think this is all I listen to. But someone asked me what song I think describes me the closest a few days ago. Although some points are off, and its true message hard to detect, All Hail The Heartbreaker by The Spill Canvas is the closest match.

I PROMISE no more whiny boo boo stuff tomorrow. Night.

One Of Those Days.

I've had one of those days, where no amount of yelling, pondering, crying, laughing, or furiously typing can shake the feeling of plain melancholy. So here is this long sigh:

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Goodnight.

I Must Be Crazy.

QUESTION TIME.

1. Why is it, that every time I wake up in the morning, my exact motions play out like this: open eyes, lift neck, bang head on useless metal decoration, curse the world, miss the alarm button several times and knock change off dresser, swing legs off of bed, hit left knee on dresser, yell some colorful street language, stand up, clutch hurting back, put change back on dresser, walk towards door, and hit right knee on doorframe. WITHOUT fail, this always happens. Am I really that dry and predictable? Or am I some kind of humanoid robot, that is utterly irresistible to the female gender?

2. How come schools don't provide nap time anymore? Now, before you scoff and say, "That Connor sho' is a triflin' fool", consider this: out of all age groups, teenagers need the most sleep. Think about having a special study hall right after lunch where they provide cots and gingerly play John Mayer in the background. Not only would that be clutch, it would be uber chill.

3. Why do men have nipples? Just kidding. Men have nipples because they look dynamite, bro.

OB- Original Bro.

4. Why do seniors have to actually give an effort senior year? Why can't we frolic around in letterman jackets, whilst shoving dweebs into lockers like you see in the movies? Why am I not friends with Bartlbey Gaines from Accepted?

I realize that none of these are legitimate questions. But do you realize that I'm writing this post with my shirt off? Of course not. That would be silly, unless of course you had X-Ray vision, but that is also silly. I'm just a silly guy.


And a shout out goes to Trey Anderson, who is probably the bro-est bro to ever live. He carries a competition weight frisbee (180g).

Is it just me...

Today I realized that I had not sat down intentionally and watched T.V. for a few weeks. I KNOW RIGHT? My pants were beginning to ride dangerously close to my belly button and I was quoting the Sound of Music. But seriously, I was feeling absurdly lame, and I reasoned that some rebellious television programming would give me some needed culture. I had never felt so disappointed.

The next hour was...emotionless. Literally every channel, program and show did not extract any emotions or interest me in the slightest. "I'm an emotional guy", I thought. Why wasn't it stimulating? I used to be such an avid T.V. watcher. My addiction was comparable to Jim Carrey in Cable Guy.

This movie was fantastic. I recommend it!

Then I realized movies like Cable Guy, or shows for that matter, just don't come around as often. It seems as if all I ever knew as a child is slowly leaving me, making way for utterly crappy replacements. Like what happened to Spongebob? After season 4, it was nautical nausea (hardcore fan joke). I miss when Mel Gibson was still cool and kept his physical abuse to a minimum. I AM UPSET, but I guess I shouldn't be too harsh. Let's be truthful fellow 90's kids, our childhood T.V. shows grab today's programs by the love handles, and eat them for dinner. Old MTV would pop pills Kurt Cobain style and pulverize new MTV's Bieber Fever. Hey Arnold would lessen more racial tension than Everybody Hates Chris. The Amanda Show would curb stomp Hannah Montana until Miley Cyrus also forgot her real identity. Actually that sounds kind of hot, but I digress.

Alas, my anger is ill-founded. I don't even watch T.V. that much anyway, although it would be nice to see some quality entertainment every once in a while. All this nostalgia talk is making me feel old and feeble. Especially since I just ate some shrimp AND REALIZED I WAS ALLERGIC. That was the real killer. 

Shout out to Nicole Pappas, my lawfully wedded girlfriend. I heart inside jokes.

Friends and Charles Barkley.

I'm feeling frisky right now. Oh yes. It's the time of night where my homework still lies uncompleted, but my sloth mentality has worn off. Whatever follows next is a result of pure spontaneity and lust for acceptance by my peers. 


Ah. Friends. Take a moment to think of every friend you've ever had; since your first to your current set. How many have changed? Stayed with you this entire time? I can't even begin to fathom how my friends have influenced me, and I'm proud to say its ultimately been for the better. I'm not proud of the sad truth, however, that I have burned many bridges, and left some relationships wounded and unresolved. Part of this is mostly a direct consequence of pursuing friendships that are vain and ill-purposed; just for my greed of wanting lots of friends. There I said it. I am addicted to having a surplus of friends. It's a problem that has had many complicated repercussions for me, especially when it comes to choosing whom to hangout with. The choice always comes down to, more often than not, picking one group over another. You can probably imagine all sorts of douchy excuses I have used. The worst consequence is, by far, is spacing yourself from friends that actually mean something to you. Ugh. In the immortal words of Charles Barkely "That's Turrible".


LUCKILY I have an awesome set of close friends (you know who you are), that keep me honest and my jerk status to a minimum. Thank you guys (and gals). I guess these incessant ramblings of mine are my way of saying, talk to those friends you've grown apart from. Say hi to people that have moved away from you. I don't think you'll regret it.


WHOA. I'm sorry I just dumped a fecal-rhino-loads-worth of emotions on you. Tomorrow's will be full of sunshine and UNICORNS.

Ahem.

I need to chill out. Like, every time I'm in hulk-smash mode, somebody tells me they want to kill me. Seriously, without fail, "I want to f***ing kill you bro" always follows my shenanigans. Warnings? No. Promises? Yep.

I hope I was kidding just then. Anyway, a couple of people have asked me whose blog this is every time I post. Well, hi my name is Connor, and the blog I post- is my blog. Wouldn't be odd if I just posted someone else's blog as soon as they wrote something, everyday? I don't blame you though, sometimes I feel like real-world-Connor is much more obnoxious than plain ol' blog-Connor. Much like my alternate persona "Chet" is favored over my actual personality. That's sad. I guess I'll try to work on that.

I am all over the place tonight. I just watched Jackass 3D, so my brains a little fried. 3D movies make me jittery, and more passionate than usual for pelvic thrusting. But don't worry, I'm not going to review Jackass right now or anything. Movies of that nature cannot be rationalized. If you are worrying: chillax and listen to some John Mayer.

I can't move my fingers very well so I might just stop typing right in the middl.......

OMG. Big news.

Ha ha this post is actually not going to be as exciting as the title leads you to think. Sorry. However, I am officially making thursdays: "Hat Tippin' and Thumb Bitin' Thursdays". Which roughly means I'm going to bore you with what I have found interesting in the past week, and what I have absolutely loathed. This should give you helpless plebeians some much needed structure.

TIP OF THE HAT goes to the youtube sensation Keyboard Cat. I was having an I-want-to-strangle-old-people day, and I stumbled upon this video. Soon enough I was grinning like Gary Busey.

Plastic Surgery Nightmare

To be honest the video is extremely cheesy and caters towards middle-aged women...but that furry bastard was tearing the keyboard up. Excuse my language. Expect better hat tips in the future.

BITE OF THE THUMB goes to Facebook groups involving the word "real". As in: A real boyfriend doesnt lie, hurt, cheat or hit their girlfriend. First of all, if the boyfriend is not real, does that mean he's imaginary? Or irrational (math jokes)? I think they meant "ideal". BUT GUESS WHAT LADIES, we guys will never be a prince charming, take you away on a carpet like Aladdin, or sprout rainbows from our butt cheeks. Don't get me wrong, I'm not endorsing beating or cheating on your girlfriend. But we are human, and we will lie. Of course, we can certainly strive to be better at the sensitive things, but you need to lower your expectations of our mating skills. We don't all know a kindly old friar that gives us relationship advice and illegal drugs (Romeo and Juliet). So enjoy our cheesy jokes and awkward conversations at parties, okay ladies?

I have this odd feeling that more and more people hate me everyday, just because of this blog. Like, a cult of you meet in a dark warehouse downtown and plot my murder. I would be cool with that. Peace.

Dissecting Our Addiction: Facebook

We all know, AS A FACT, that I'm usually an overall a decent person. Except when it comes to FACEBOOK. Then I'm a filthy, rotten skank; and so are you.


You know it's true. This is evidenced by the thousands of groups created on Facebook that are along the lines of "Facebook ruins my grades" or "I'd cut my fingers off before letting go of Facebook". We all know we devote a liberally sized portion of our lives to Facebook, but know one really knows why. Why are we up at 1:30 looking at the pictures from the weekend? Why do we burn so much brainpower in order to formulate a witty, and touching status? 


Well, Lets strip this whole Facebook thing down. Facebook was designed to: help you connect and share with the people in your life. That makes sense, all we're doing is interacting with other people, right? Well, not in a way humans normally do. Think about it. In face to face conversation you can't share pictures, tell 1,000 some friends your feelings, or browse someone's musical interests. Facebook dives deep into your life, leaving no feeling, interest, or accomplishment unturned. When people are exposed to this massive scale of emotion, they become addicted to it: the stories, the sorrow, the laughs, the amazing, and the absurd.Ideologically, facebook users have access to a deep and diverse system that, on a small scale, makes them...omnipotent. In other words, we are addicted to playing god. A creepy, computer savvy god.


I guess the real question is: is this bad for us? Depending on the circumstances, I would say yes for many reasons, most of them pertaining to me. Facebook can be a fun, and relaxing way to interact with other people, but when overdosed on, can make you into a emotion-sucking creeper (like me).


But then again I'm ridiculed for being absolutely psycho by my peers, so who knows? Message me on Facebook (hypocrisy) if you have other theories...or if you want my number so we can go on a hot date. Whatevs. Peace. 

Neglect and Kid Cudi

OMG. I last posted on the 5th. Woops. To be honest I'VE BEEN SWARMED BY A TYPHOON OF MENTAL AND PHYSICAL RAPE. Okay I had to get that out. I promise to blog diligently blah blah blah you get the point.

Since my last few posts have been all whiny boo boo hoo boo stuff, I figure I'll channel all my hatred against  humankind (not you of course) towards something fluffy and boring. Just kidding.
I LOVE KID CUDI.
I'm not the type of guy that usually listens to hip-hop and rap, and most of my friends would describe me as a greasy, trashy, rock fan. BUT, Scott Mescudi has given me reason to let my ears fancy that "hip" music all the kids are listening to. Unlike other rap artists, Cudi has really tapped into his soul and has used it as his musical thesis. You don't hear him hollering about hoes and gunning people down for money (Lil' Wayne cough cough), but rather he sings about what bothers and stirs his mind. Even though some of his songs are a little melancholy, its refreshing to hear music felt from deep down, not just shallow, sold out lyrics about purple drank. Another important feature Kid Cudi offers is his creative, and original beats. Not only does he include instrumentals from other, new-fangled artists (MGMT, Ratatat); his rhythms match the tone of his songs perfectly. This just adds to the overall submersed feeling you get from his music, and makes him a truly stand-out artist.

I would suggest his most popular songs as a starting point: Pursuit of Happiness and Soundtrack to my Life. If you were wondering about what music I listen to normally, I'd have to point you toward the band Chevelle and Breaking Benjamin. HOWEVER, I am certainly not limiting myself to those bands, or genre for that matter.

Well, bye.

SHORT POST MADNESS TUESDAY.

I keep promising people that I'll blog everyday and keep the topics interesting. Interestingly enough, I also tell people I'm going to stop over-using parenthesis and that rainbows are going to sprout from my anus. Too bad only one of those criteria can be met tonight.

I HAVE SO MUCH HOMEWORK. It's not even senioritis, I just have seven dwarf's worth of work tonight (they were always doing something, watch that movie again). By writing this, I'm wasting sweet, sweet time. BUT, honestly I utilize my time as well as Rosie O'Donnel utilized the Richard Simmon's fitness fananza in the ninities. Figure that one out. Alas, I must end this blog prematurely (and I'm not saying anything clever to end this post so stop reading already).

Riding Solo

They say 2% of high school relationships last till marriage. But at the same time, 86% of students are involved in a relationship at some point during their high school career. What gives?


This conflict of interests, can be catastrophic for couples (just watch the movie Swimfan. That'll keep you up at night boys). Most argue that dating is a way to round yourself by learning from your experiences and the people you interact with. I'm cool with that, but sadly I'm a dry, crabby futurist; why date in high school if it will only bring tears on graduation day? People hate that about me. Perhaps that little futurist monster within me was spawned as a result of so many bad relationships (much like how Golem was created from lust for the One Ring. Great movies. Stellar quality). Sometimes I love that monster: he keeps me TGF (trashy girl free), and protects me from crazy chicks (seriously don't watch Swimfan, it will mess with you). Recently, I've began to hate the drawbacks of the imagined imps that haunt my mind. For one, I'm pretty lonely sometimes; girlfriends are (hopefully) always wanting to talk to you. More important to me though, is the fact that I'm loosing friends faster than a gambler with holes in his pockets (now re-read that in a twangy, hick accent). When the girl hates you, her friends hate you. Especially if you're shady on the ending details. So what is the best option?Truth is, I am only an asian guy lying prone on his bed trying to combat the world's problems via keyboard (not to be confused with a hippy), and I can't give you a "solve-all" answer. Except, that we are all different and must solve these problems in equally different ways. That sounded cheesy and idealized, but our differences and little defining characteristics (like how my left eye is extremely squinty when I smile) are really what makes it difficult to instigate a relationship, but naturally, are also what binds us together. And no, I am not a hippy.


I realize that this post was still pretty serious, and you are probably squirming from the awkwardness. Good. I love awkwardness. BUT, expect lighter, wittier, and sexier posts in the future. 
-Con

Well. Here we are.

It's senior year. What happened?


I could've sworn just yesterday I was riding my big wheeler down my driveway in order to fend off dragons (I was too unathletic to want to play something cool like basketball). Even though that one awkward relative that I don't quite recognize pinches my cheeks and tells me how much I've grown, I still feel as if I haven't changed dramatically over the years. Don't get me wrong, I'm certainly wiser (and much more appealing to the ladies), but I've always kept a constant set of traits that have been very defining. Like, my tendency to trip over my words when I'm excited, or bang the same spot on my right knee on anything that is even remotely in the way. They say the older you get, the more refined your identity becomes; but as my senior year rolls around, I feel myself looking on hopefully to "College Connor", while still being tugged on by childhood nostalgia. I swore to myself that I wouldn't be looking back when it was time to leave this town, but I see now why so many before me have had trouble saying goodbye. The only thing I can honestly say with confidence, is that I need to cherish all the memories and friends I've made over the last decade, and take nothing for granted.


SORRY if this post was drastically dryer than its counterparts, but I felt it had to come out sooner or later. -Con

Procrastination

You know, as this whole blog thing plays itself out, I realize my mind has much more to offer while I should be doing other, more important things; such as writing a paper for a class that will honestly help me about three times my entire life. Most sentient beings (I don't classify some humans I know as sentient. You know who you are. Which is ironic because that would mean they're sentient. Mind boggling stuff really. Stop reading this side note.) would agree that procrastination is the bane of our existence; a leech on precious time. I think we all take our old pal procrastination a bit too harshly. I believe it was the band Chicago that said:


"Does anybody really know what time it is
Does anybody really care
If so I can't imagine why
We've all got time enough to cry"

(I copy-pasted). That song was a smash hit, you know. To me, procrastination is a time of reflection and really an accurate look into our true feelings...

Actually everything I just said was complete bull. I am procrastinating like it's my job and I'm using this blog as my scapegoat. I hate writing papers that I am in no way shape or form interested in writing. CON OUT.

Ugh

FIRST THINGS FIRST. The name of this blog belongs to my basement (clever), mainly because it has been the site of so many memorable moments. And plus "The Basement" has a manly flair to it, kind of like Bruce Willis's persona in Pulp Fiction. Well... Bruce Willis in general.

Well, it's late and I feel like ripping my eyes out and drenching them in an 80cent slushy from Sonic. Scratch that last idea. It would be more efficient for me to put my body on a rotisserie (I used spell check) and simply dip myself in a large vat of flavored ice product. As you mostly likely have inferred, I am highly delusional from lack of sleep and nourishment. I'm going to stop writing now. I'm hearing/seeing things. Good day.

Hey! Hi! Yes. Hello. Hi.

Hey there. This is my first blog ever so don't judge me. Asian people get antsy about profiling. Anyway, I'm devoting this wonderful waste of the internet to show you all the cool things that frolic around in my mind all day. I'll warn you, my writing skill equates to that of a cheese sandwich, and my vocabulary is usually inappropriately utilized. BUT, I'm weird, and I think we all can benefit from that. As in, you can all strive to do the exact opposite of what I do.

That concludes my first blog, because, well... This feels like a first date and I don't know what to say. (Ha ha except thats never happened since the mere sight of my biceps makes girls melt.) So really, It's more like  a first date with a man. But not a bro, because that's VASTLY different. Ahem.