Song of the moment: "Hypnotize" by Notorious B.I.G.
I am feeling: Thuggish


Yo yo yo. I am da AzN ThUg part of MiL LiEk WhuT yO!

*dies*

ANYWHO. Yeah, I'm working on a super duper mother freaking cool ass cutesey site. The only thing I really need now is space and a new domain!!! GAAHHH. I need to ask Bernie to hook it up, yo. ^.^ Other than that, I had sooo much free time during English, because everyone was reviewing other people's essays and stuff. Since I didn't even do my rough draft, I got to sit there and look like a dumb ass the entire period. How fun. -_-

Yeah, here's what I wrote about that stupid class and our stupid teacher:


Title: The imbecility of my English teacher [in which leads to... my English class.]

The dullness of my English class makes me want to jump out of my seat and SCREAM from all of this fashionably boring madness. Heh. "Boring" madness? I never knew there was such a thing. I also never knew I would ever come to hate the subject of English, also. All my life, in every single dreadful school year, I would always look forward on what my English class would have to offer. "What interesting book shall we read this year?" or "What will I learn, what will I do and how much more will I improve my writing? This is going to be so much fun, I can't wait".

Sadly, I get the most ludricrisly boring teacher in the world, Mr. Captain Dullhead Shoemaker Jr. I literally want to stick a rocket up his ass just so I could liven up his lifelessness appeal. He talks like the most stereotypical old-geezer science professor, yet seems to lack their intellect and progressively growing old-geezer ear hair.

My teacher is exceptionally young, I don't know how, or why he is so boring. He talks as lively as an old man from a nursery home that is about to eat carrots and peas for dinner or something. Although, he writes so elegeantly feminine, in which really makes me question wether or not he is a "Mrs. Shoemaker" underneath instead of the latter. o_O;

He talks for hours and yet, in his long lectures, I and the other students manage to learn so very little, if not anything at all. After his hellishly boring talk and explanation, he assigns the class to do something and magically dissapears through the mystifying door to the outside world. We always wonder about where he goes, for he's always out and about in long periods of time. Maybe he leaves to jack off somewhere in the teacher's lounge, or something. Heh. I guess that's where he spends all his energy at, instead of teaching "dumb" highschool students.

Although when he doesn't leave, he's always at his desk, reading the morning paper. I have no idea what interest the paper has to him, but obviously it holds greater importance than enlightening young minds, such as mine, that are so damn eager to learn new ways of writing. Oh, how we all crave to learn! [pun intended].

My jar of taciturnity with all of his lameness and dull way of teaching is almost to it's highest peak. How I wish to own a Concept V model with a 45AP caliber and shoot him up-side on his ignorant head in more times than a couple of MILLION. Then, I would kick his lifelessly dead head until it detaches from his body and shoot it through our school's basketball net.

T_T;



After I wrote this down on paper, I felt a little better. Gahh! He is so lame! _-_-;. But yeah, when I got done writing this, I busted out my "layout ideas" notebook and started planning for my new site. Drawing out layouts is soooo fun, but the coding part can be a real bitch. x_X; Oh well. But yeah, after I basically finished planning my whoe site, I brought out my English journal again and started writing whatever that was in my head. It made sense when I was writing it, because I just jotted down every single thought that was going on my head at the time, but reading back is a little confusing. @_@;;


Title: The most real and random thoughts of Mil

We are born... we yearn to learn, 'adviced' and urged to learn, are forced to learn. Throughout our lives, we work, search, love and lust--yet it all leads to one concluding end. That of which is most likely in a casket sorrounded in confinement by dirt. From richness, sickness and in health, to just plain dirt. Covered with fancy suits and beautiful dresses, we will sleep in eternity amongst the nothingness of death. No more worries, happiness, family or love--just death.

Why do we work so much for death? Why do we ignorantly carry on and work so hard throughout our lifetime for everything that we have and cherish, when it all leads to one, final thing? We act as if we will live forever, live life to its fullest, but for what? Memories? There are no memories after death.We would be lucky to be one in a million and be remembered for what we were and what we did.

Is that what we're really working for? To be remembered? To be just another page in the tradjic history of our Earth? The cycle continues on and on, the same as always. The only thing different about each turn of the wheel of life are the individuals. No, not even that. Do you think that you're the only one to live the life of.... you? Is that possible, from the masses of people born each day over the past thousands and millions of years? The lives of everyone are just recycled and repeated over and over, with little technical changes.

Personalities, ignorance and mistakes. They're all just similiar repeats. Why were we created? Is it to satisfy the crave of entertainment of the nothing? Perhaps human beings think too much. Should we just live our lives and do things with asking so much complex questions? Will that keep our sanity, or just keep us ignorant?

.....

I feel so alone. Friends, acquaintances and strangers sorroung me, yet I am so alone.

And I like it.

The feeling of being alone--detached from those occupying this bulk of rock we call Earth is so soothing. I love it. Away from judgement, idiocy and even love. It all gets old. I just want to be alone... to myself... to privacy.

Maybe that is what we are working for, really. The confinement of the walls of dirt.




Yeah.