…reality.
What is MySpace doing for us? What is MySpace doing to us? Is its purpose being served, or is it tapping into society’s sins and exploiting them unintentionally?
From the blog of The David Xperience. Written by a guy named Dave.
Thoroughly haunting. Entirely plausible. And I hope that the rest of us are more intelligent to realize that MySpace is just another way to waste time — it is not our reality, it is not the world we were meant to live in.
One of my first ever memories comes from being a little baby and my mom dancing with/carrying me through the house while our radio played. Her favorite song to dance with me? Even the Nights Are Better by Air Supply. I must have been 1 or 2 years old then. At least 2 decades ago.
It’s one of my favorite and most played songs on my iPod now.
Yay!
I was featured on WordPress.com’s Growing Blogs of the Day! For November 20, 2006!
Okay, I’m #80. But still. I’m still on the list!
I registered. I added a listing.
My mom just asked me out of the blue (we were watching Matilda earlier today) how did I get the idea to dial Santa Claus when I was about 2-3 yrs old. It was one of those get to talk to Santa and his elves (kind of like one of those Miss Cleo numbers). I also dialed up a lot of tarot card readings. Apparently I had racked up a $5000 bill one month.
I never knew a monetary amount till now.
Of not updating sooner.
To be honest, I have about seven entries on deck. Not quite completed or even barely started. I am a bad bad blogger.
-2 hrs later-
See, this is just what I said. This is what I get for looking at my on-deck entries … not at home. Did you know that a majority of bloggers update during the work day? It’s my lunchbreak, it’s okay. It really is. It’s about 115p right now. I usually take lunch around 130p. That’s still fine, right?
-30 min later-
Seriously? (Said in a very Grey’s Anatomy-esque tone) Seriously. The speed at which I type, you’d think I could bang out a short and sweet — and RELEVANT entry. Nope, of course not. Not even during my lunch break. Or the sad excuse for a lunch break I am currently experiencing.
-1.5 hrs later-
I should just quit while I’m ahead, shouldn’t I? Or is it quit while I’m behind, with no hope of ever being ahead again?
Perhaps the title is misleading. Certain memories are meant to be forgotten. Particular parts of certain memories are meant to be forgotten. Specific sections are meant to be told and retold, and have lessons learned from them.
Most memories, we have for some reason or another. Being unforgettable. Inspires a certain emotion, a gut feeling. A knee jerk reaction…
I digress.
It’s impossible to tell.
Sneezes, hiccups, burps, and joints a-crackin. During work.
We sound like a group of geriatrics, but we’re mostly under the age of 25. What’s up with that?
Sometimes I wonder how huge groups of friends from pre-school still stay friends after all these years. Sometimes I listen to what they talk about, and wonder if snack choices in preschool actually have any influence on the lives of mid-20-somethings. Or if crush options in elementary school really had any effect on their dating lives in junior high school.
Do these people really grow up? Not that I’m knocking strong support groups — but I’ve always been used to one or two friends that manage to grow up in the same way I have — and we don’t really have to resort to old childish memories to keep the friendship going on.
In the words of an acquaintance,
it’s like a chore, hanging out with them.
Friendships are supposed to be fun, and the last thing I want is for it to seem like a chore.
Revelations. Realizations. Epiphanies. That ‘Eureka!’ moment.
And I can’t for the life of me remember what that was. Possibly thinking ‘Eureka! I’m old!’.
so there was this little kid i saw at the gas station last night who asked me ‘did u have halloween when you were growing up?’
Yesterday was Halloween. I don’t know about you, but my memories of Halloween involved OD’ing on large quantities of sugar-loaded candy dressing up as characters one only saw in the Saturday morning cartoons or read about in books (one of my favorite costumes involved me being dressed up as a gypsy fortune teller). And the trick-or-treating late at night, when it was already pitch black outside, running rampant in the streets of my extremely suburban neighborhood among all the other hopped-up-on-large-quantities-of-sugar and costumed kids.
This was in the days of creepy masks (before people switched to makeup due to vision restriction) , sugar/fat filled candy (before this health nut craze), kids could run around late at night — with parental supervision (lots less stuff to be paranoid about)…
What did I see last night? I got home a little after 7p — prime trick-or-treating time, from what I remember. The streets were eerily empty. Kinda like the day before a big test — or some equally important day. Empty like any normal weekday night. Nothing special. You couldn’t really tell it was Halloween, with the exception of the Halloween decorations… and the large quantities of shaving cream piles, shaving cream graffiti, and shaving cream profanity(!?) littering the sides of the street. Peculiar.
