Shame

I'm waking up at 4 to watch Dawsons Creek? How did my life turn into this?

        Fourth of July was spectacular, surreal and life affirming. I went to our nations capital in the 80 degree weather with a brisk breeze among ricocheeting reports of tornados. As the rest of the city was ordered to evacuate The Mall I was crutching around the city with my family. We encounter droves of people sitting on top of cars,staking out territory beneath awnings along with the occasional drunk or madmad spouting vomit and nonsense in an equally disgusting volume.

      I watched the fireworks from atop an 11 story tall building. We were invited to this rooftop box social because the lawyers needed an elevator specialist ie my father to ensure their safe descent. We saw a number of other people clambering atop buildings for a better view of the nine o'clock million dollar spectacle. There were the regular amount of idiots getting on rooftops with no guard rails and sitting on the edges of i-beams and gripping flag poles to stop their euphoric stumbling. The display itself was beautiful. It is so very hard to describe explosions but i'll hazard an attempt. One when whoosh and sparkled, another went whizzbang and became a star. Of course the authorized fireworks were not the only ones gracing the skys. From over poorer districts a myraid of firecrackers could be heard. Middle class neighbor hoods had some better fare with spinners and artillery shells. The real show however was over china town I saw explosions of such magnitude and low altitude as to be terrified. The noise was like a bass line to the flashier national display.

      My favorite part of the evening was the evacuation. You see the district of columbia uses the national fireworks display to test their emergency evac plan. All roads leading into the city are turned into exits, I assure you the severity of the plan is neccessary. The streets were acrush with people. All shouting,laugh, screaming and surging like the tide against the hinderance of glass steel and concrete that was our tower. I saw over 20 police escorts for diplomats, dignitaries, drummers and drama queens. The fireworks hadn't stop the intesity of the lower caliber explosions seemed to intensify to fill the gape left by the larger display. Roman candles hit cars and fire crackers sent sporadic clumps of people scattering. It was beautiful, I was afraid for my life. Alas, the adventure ended. We made it home and I went to sleep...Harry Potter in 5 days i just remebered.

For the more morbidly fascinated or medically inclined. Believe it or not this looks a lot better then it has since it was brand new. It worked better a week out of surgery looking like this then it has in 5 years. Only 28 staples this time since i'm not on chemo. They hurt like a bitch coming out because i heal abnormally fast and the skin grows over them before the doctors have waited the "necessary amount of time". so they have to dig in my skin to pry them out. They always offer to let me do it... that is never going to happen. The red dot closest to my hands was where my drainage tube was. It feels like a drain unclogging when they pull it out. The red dot further from my leg is a pressure sore from the casting after the operation. It's basically a bedsore. What happens is the cast puts pressure on my leg in certain spots. This maks the spot unable to recieve blood. After a couple of days with noblood the tissue dies leaving a bunch of dead cells inside my leg. These take a hell of a long time to heal due to the fact that the body has to continually scab the spot over and replace tissue from the bottom up. They cut right along my old scar so unfortunately no fancy new flesh tatoo for jeffrey. Creepy isn't it? ^^; I know i'm like a broken record but this is primarily what this summer consist of for me. Plus I'm not very interesting so I have to supplement my personality with gory physical details.

AS A SIDE NOTE DOES ANYONE HAVE THE ABILITY AND INCLINATION TO TELLME THE AP SUMMER PROJECTS FOR EURO AND PSYCH?????  PLEASE. MAYBE. IF YOU GET THE CHANCE...INFORM ME.

I have to stop getting up so early. I end up just rambling on here.

Omg Jane Eyre you're not the first orphan ever, your expierence is not 500 pages unique.

             My summer is going decently. I haven't done a lot but I enjoy not doing a lot. It's certainly better than doing something boring... I don't like my layout anymore but am too lazy to change it. I've been playing oblivion at my cousins house. That game is aptly named as it will devour the weaker souls of humanity with it's mere aura. The instruction booklet itself is the equivalent of the holy grail to console based rpgers. I admit to losing days to its nurturing embrace. Days where my cousin kept kicking me so i'd leave his house. Other then that i've been watching movies, swimming, going fishing and going on doctor visits for my leg.

             My crippledness is coming along nicely despite my stupidity and at times seemig malice in reguards to the care of my lower left appendage. I was walking a week out of surgery better then I have in 4 years and had no limp. I of course proceeded to go slightly overboard in excitement and played tennis. A word coming from experience, do not play tennis two weeks after major reconstructive surgery. I irritated the place where my bones connect to my ligments. Irritation in this area hurts like having a turkey baster with a boiling hot needle inject battery acid into your bone marrow. So, I'm back on crutches for three weeks. Although i'm already feeling well enought to be stupid enough to walk again. Inn another sour turn, my surgeons lost my old knee. I really wanted to melt down the titanium and sell it alas what are you going to do?

Leave a comment so i know you're alive.

The scent of grass is the smell of it's blood or cytoplasm. Makes summer days a bit less romantic, d

      So, I won 2500 dollars from a scholarship. That was neat and unexpected. It's always nice to win stuff however, I swear, I have the most diametrically opposed luck of any living individual as later that same day I was struck with the intestinal ejections of a bird. Reports from outsde witnesses claim this bird to have been "big and predatory looking".

    I got my Easter gift today. It was ordered online about 2 months ago because amazon dot com hates me and apparently the symbolic avatar of springtime. It's pretty good, one of the runaways comics. I like them but they do leave a little to be desired in the action department. I miss the comical days when good guys and bad guys didn't both have to be people and could just punch and laugh at one another with real emotions, conversly I hateed those shallow comics of yore as well. What can I say somtimes i'm difficult to please. On a further note werewuff cowboys and logical religious paradoxi are awesome.

     I'll probably start posting more again but no promises are currently being made. Even if they were mademy promises are unreliable and come with a very poor warranty.

      I've been thinking lately, due primarily o my transmigratory state as an adolescent, about what separates an adult from a child. I immediately dismissed the crude theory about actual biological age and further threw out the garbage about responsibility. Those are parent answers and subject to their personal bias so of course adulthood would be cast in a favorable light. I believe in our unique position that we, people in our final formative years, can answer this question. So, I came up with a theory. A mildly supported theory. It's really more like a hypothesis but I think it holds promise. I believe the elemental difference between [children] and [adults] is that children let things go and adults hold onto things. For instance children let go of dreams, misconceptions, ignorance, intelligence, chances, silence and memories. Ask a person what they dreamed of being as a child and at our age they still might just barely remeber. Adults, conversly,  hold on to things. They dredge up memories and keep them like secrets. The obtain knowledge and guard it with jealous. They hold onto the pain of their entire lives like it's a promise or a reciept that if it were lost would lose all redeemability. Now the prime example of this horrific transformation are the children of abuse and tragedy. The individuals that are romantically called old souls, the ones who have something they can't let go. These children have stepped over an invisble boundary define by the means with which one defines the self. Children are shifty and mutable like loose sand, in this way they remain children. However, adults are like sand that has been pressured into stone that is immutable. This hardening results when people define themselves by the events that occured to them and not by what they ARE. They let the events shape them and then admire the form because if the ruling class is immutable then our set ways must be something to be admired, right? So, Ithink i'm going to destroy the already shape of self that i'm building. Or maybe not maybe it is better to be set and to be full of remeberance. Still I miss the time when I lokked at th world and saw less then a sicteenth of the evil whereas now I see an ever increasing amount. Maybe childhood is denial but I wonder if it isn't preferable to ...this.

I love being melodramatic as always my spelling sucks.

Computer Back

That last post was so stupid in my defense if I don't release the puss-like residue of reading too much fantasy I'd go insane. The book that provoked it was good, it was called "the book of lost things" or something like that.  It had horribly gruesome things in it. I really like horrific descriptions it's so easy to transmit the emotion of disgust. So, apparently it's bad to think you're better then everone at an essential level, according to the people in my math class. It may also be blasphemous according to one girl. I personally think it's a good idea as long as the person isn't a jerk about it. I really detest/want to burn this new keyboard. My bad typing could be blamed on the fact that Preston is learning lacross by beating my hands and shins with what equates to religious zeal. He's getting more and more activity oriented. I apparently must suffer through his many endeavors. Being dragged out of my room to film an ollie and then putting it on youtube where it has already recieve 1000 views. I really am getting too old for this. I have recently come to the conclusion that ever family has a Meg (reference to family guy). I have no train of thought right now, I have a fragmentation grenade of meaningless words instead. I hope we don't go into recession until I graduate college. In the tv formating of harold and kumar they replace fuck with fun, i'm not sure but that may be the best edit ever. I sat in ranch dressing at lunch, it was a negative experience overall. My laptop broke so all my fringe web comics are lost to the endless void of information that is the internet. The band No More Kings is decent if only because the chorus to one of their songs is a roup of zombies moaning. The overall theme of the song was why zombies never have shoes. My first explaination was that you aren't buried in shoes nor do many people have the back of their suit or entire pants while resting in the grave. An accurate zombie attack would contain gratuitous backside nudity. I want to be buried in pajamas. It would be ironic because I hate to sleep in pajamas but given time i'm sure I could grow accustom or in this case deccay accustom. I'm starting to get stress related migraines again like when I was extremely young. I'm so bored between the torrents of work. I replayed golden sun and won in 16 hours and I have become ridiculusly adept at wii sports.