Blookah!

Weekend at Clemson was great.

 Got to see my old college buddies.

Getting there was tough though.

It was me, buddy Garion, and a guy named Chris in Chris’ car.
We were driving and driving and driving towards Spartanburg to pick up my friends’ girlfriend up at Converse College.  Converse was off of exit 21, and our car broke down at exit 22….. damn.  So, instead of being stranded out front of an all-girls college, we had to walk up an exit ramp, with our bags, and camp out in a Waffle House for 3 hours while we waited for my friend Andy to get off of work…. So close to Converse!!!  Me and the guys did have fun making up our own far-fetched predictions at what would happen if we were at Converse instead of that Waffle House, which made the time pass quicker. 
When we finally did get to Clemson, my night was spent casually drinking a few beers while I watched Garion drink his first pay-check by the name of Jack Daniels.

Next night, after laughing at the hung-over Garion, we drove from Clemson back to Spartanburg to go to Ground Zero for the:
HORSE the Band / Between the Buried and Me
concert. 

HORSE = Win.

BTBAM = Also awesome.

Andy and his girlfriend Kim drove me and Garion back to ol’ Hartsville on Sunday.
(Since we didn’t have a ride.  Chris got picked up Sat. morning…..and his car was dead.)

I love you Andy!!!!
And Kim.

The Brave Companions

Below is what we had to do for my English IV Mid-term.

Objective:  Write a short-story using 3 characters from literature discussed in class and insert them into the setting of a popular movie. 

Characters:

• Beowulf   (main character of the epic poem ‘Beowulf’)
• Grendel   (a monster that Beowulf defeats)
• The Monk (one of the pilgrims from Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales”)

Movie:  Lord of the Rings

(I thought my story was pretty entertaining at the least, so here it is.)

The Brave Companions

       Despite being in the summer months, it was another unseasonably cold day in the city of Rivendell.  The dawn of a new day in the Elvish capitol was famous; being the subject of both flowery songs to children’s tales, but one would be hard-pressed to find a singer that could make this particular morning any less dark and dreary.
       Not only in Rivendell was the air filled with a chilled evilness.  Every nation within Middle Earth could not dispute sensing something, whether it be death, danger, or fear, in their midst.  The young, naive populous of middle Earth thought of this phenomenon as only a shift in the weather pattern, but the older, seasoned men of the kingdom knew better.  War was coming.
       There hadn’t been a war in Middle Earth in centuries, therefore only a select few could sense its presence.  Luckily, Elrond, the leader of the Elves, was of these few, having served in the previous Great War of Middle Earth when the combined might of the Elves, Dwarves, and of Man drove the evil Grendel and his horde out of the lands of the few and into the dark lands of Mordor.  Elrond was the first to note the similarities between the previous Great War and how middle Earth was right at that moment.
       Elrond, fearful of what power Grendel could muster from behind the Black Mountain in Mordor, decided to hold a war-time council with the leaders of every distinct allied race in Middle Earth: the Elves, the Dwarves, and the race of Man.
       First to arrive was Humbaba, son of Gunthar.  He was a giant of a man, standing over eight feet tall.  The common-fok of the land nicknamed him “The Mountain that Rides” because of the legend that he held a reward for any man that could provide him with a horse large enough for him to ride, although it is said that he paid a man a treasure fit for a king after he presented him with an African rhinoceros.  Humbaba was truly a man of legendary status, known to have slain many terrible beasts and monsters in his time.  Elrond was wise for inviting Humbaba, because any man that often wields the trunks of trees when he breaks the tip of his sword is a top candidate for fighting evil.
       Accompanying Humbaba was a man by the name of The Monk.  A fat and jolly man, The Monk has been a companion of Humbaba since he discovered him fighting in the gladiator pits of The Shire, when Humbaba was given the title of “Humbaba the Hobbit Slayer”.  From that day onward, The Monk has been officially Humbaba’s spiritual guide, although unofficially he was known as Humbaba’s fight promoter, profiting off of every foe Humbaba put to the ground.  The Monk puts his wealth to great use, buying himself the finest silks and expanding his immense girth with fine food and wine.  With a large stomach and a bald head, The Monk almost sticks out of the crowd as much as his counter-part, Humbaba.
       “Are we there yet?  We must be there, right Baba?”
       “Shut your hold, Monk.” said Humbaba, which was his response for the past ten times The Monk had asked.
       When Humbaba finally did arrive in Rivendell, he was met with a thunderous applause.  Flower petals were swirling in the wind, and a brass band was playing his fight-song “Humbaba the Burninator”.  Humbaba, being pleased at such a greeting, thought it best to park his rhino outside of the city walls, so it would not destroy anything like the last time he brought it to a village.
       “Ah! Humbaba! Why, you’re late! I’ve never known you to be tardy!” exclaimed Elrond from the balcony of the City Hall.
       “Well, I wouldn’t have been late if I didn’t have to fight all those armed men on the road.”, explained Humbaba.
       “Armed men? Were they headed in this direction?”
       “Aye they were.  A lot of them.  I had to fight an old wizard, an Elvish archer, and a feisty Dwarven fellow.  You’re welcome for getting rid of the likes of them.”
       A wave of shock went through the crowd gathered there, and was visible on the face of Elrond.
       “Could this man have truly disposed of Gandalf the wizard, Gimili of the Dwarves, and Legolas of the Elves?  But they were going to be his comrades!” thought Elrond to himself.
       “Well, we have a task of you, Humbaba.” said Elrond after taking a few moments to grasp the situation.
       “We need you to destroy the evil Lord Grendel, because I am sure of it that he is going to be on the warpath soon.  It seems that he is amassing an army to find his precious One Ring, and will burn the whole of Middle Earth to find it.”
       A troubled look washed over the face of both Humbaba and The Monk.  After a quick discussion between the two, The Monk stepped forward.
       “Well, what would you say if I told you that we….found this One Ring he is looking for.”
       “What!?  What could you mean? Do you mean to tell me that you actually have the One Ring? But that’s preposterous!  The One Ring has been in Mordor for centuries!  How did you obtain such a thing?”
      ”Well, we hard of the worth of such a ring, so we thought we’d go and git it.” said an embarrassed Monk.
       “You went to Mordor and simply took their most precious artifact?”
       “We didn’t really take it, per se, but rather won it….after killing everyone guarding it.”
       Another wave of chock and awe shot through the crowd and their leader.  Has Humbaba truly already destroyed the evil that he was summoned here to destroy?
       “Well, then you defeated Lord Grendel?” asked Elrond.
       “No.  He wasn’t there when we took it.  Lucky us, eh?”
       “I see, well it seems that we still have a talk of you.  We request of you, The Monk, and of you, Humbaba, to destroy Lord Grendel and spare us from him tyranny forever more.”
       After hearing the assignment, Humbaba and The Monk immediately sped off towards the dark lands of Mordor to face their foe.  After a full day of riding, the Gates of Mordor were before them.
       Brandishing the One Ring to the end of a long rope, Humbaba began to swing the rope in long circles around him to taunt his foe out of hiding.  Grendel, immediately sensing the spiritual pressure radiating from his long lost ring, sprang from his throne to claim what was his.
       Humbaba now got his first glance at the terrible Lord Grendel.  A horrible sight, Grendel was more beast than man.  With scales covering every inch of the creature’s form, large protruding fangs, and an indescribable odor about him, Grendel was a horrifying image.  Grendel was the one true evil of Middle Earth, being the cause of every Great War since the Dawn of Man.  Children were threatened with a visit from Grendel when they didn’t eat their vegetables, and adults were threatened with living with him if they weren’t religiously faithful.  Nothing could be more evil, more sinister, that way Humbaba saw before him.  Nothing could promise a better fight that these two forces of good and evil.
       With a flash of steel, Humbaba was on the attack; his greatsword piercing the thick scales on Grendel’s neck.  But, astonishingly, the savage strike did not harm the creature.
       “Is that all you got, Warrior?” said Grendel in a guttural rasp.
       “Want more, Beast?”
       The right foot of Humbaba suddenly came crashing into the chest of Grendel, thoroughly knocking both the wind and his lunch out of him.  The next thing that came into the blurred vision of Lord Grendel was the point of Humbaba’s sword at his throat, and the distinct trace of bloodlust in the warrior’s eyes.

.

       Humbaba and The Monk returned to Rivendell to see an even greater welcoming party then before, including jesters, snake-charmers, gypsies selling jewelry, and at the center, a grand banquet with Elrond seated at the head of the table. 
       “Splendid!  Our brave companions have returned! Come and sit! You must be weary from your journey.”
       “Yeah, that sounds great and all, but what about our reward?” said The Monk, with his most devilish smile.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

So, like it?
I don’t know….I had fun with it.
It was only supposed to be between 2 and 3 pages, but how the hell can you introduce characters, the setting, and have any sort of plot in only 2-3 double-spaced pages!?!

And before any crazy LoTR fans bash in my door, calm down guys.
This story is only very loosely based on the Lord of The Rings universe.
“How the fuck did he get a rhino from Africa!?!  That place didn’t even exist!!!”
Exactly.

Procrastinitis.

pro·crast·in·i·tis
   -noun
1) A mental disease. Symptoms include tardiness, lack of enthusiasm, and an overwhelming sense of laziness.

If only such a thing could be real.
Then I could just get a perscription for it, and BAM! Problem fixed.
Because getting pissed at sick people is alot harder than getting pissed at lazy people.

 This is my theory of how I have been infected with procrastinitis.

It all is based on how the average American person spends his or her life:

1.  Learn to talk, walk, eat, ect. (Possibly attend Kindergarten somewhere in here.)
   (6 years.)
2. When you’re of age, attend Elementary School to get you ready for Middle School.
   (6 years.)
3. Attend Middle School to get you ready for High School.
   (2 years.)
4. Attend High School to get you ready for College.
   (4 years.)
5. Attend College to train you for the career path of your choice.
   (4 years (for most common form of college graduation.))
6. Begin working in society.
   Slowly progress in your line of work, hopefully making a higher net profit after each year.
   Perhaps start your own family.
   While working, put money aside for retirement.
   (Continue working while anxiously awaiting retirement.)
   (40 years.)
7. Finally retire from the working world while living off your saved money.
   (Using the average age for retirement: 62 years old.)
   Then, while financially comfortable, do what you always wanted to do. 
   (Travel is a common choice.)

 So, with that way of life, you officially start doing what you always wanted to do
when you are 62 years old. 

Does this honestly make sense to anyone?
To be educated and worked for the majority of your life, then to die when it gets good.

To be honest, the way I see my life planning out is much different.

1.  Learn to talk, walk, eat, ect. (Possibly attend Kindergarten somewhere in here.)
   (6 years.)
2. When you’re of age, attend Elementary School to get you ready for Middle School.
   (6 years.)
3. Attend Middle School to get you ready for High School.
   (2 years.)
4. Attend High School to get you ready for College.
   (4 years.)
5. Finally retire from the working world while living off your saved money.
   (Until I die?)

 Passports cost around $90.
One-way ticket to Ireland. approx $300      
(Why Ireland? Just did a random internet-booking flight-search.

So, in my case, I can “retire” after getting about $400.
That seems alot better than spending the vast majority of my life.

The reason I’m so damn lazy (most notably concerning school) is that I have a severe lack of enthusiasm for what I’m doing.
I want to travel the world and really live, and I can do that without the cookie-cutter lifestyle that is expected of me.

cry of life.

It’s weird how something as simple as a fire can change everything.

This might be a guy thing, or possibly a pyro thing, but whilst burning the halfdead branches and leaves from my yard, I change.  I changed.
If there was something wrong, like there was, looking at the smoke and feeling the heat tends to just….

School, work, people. 

They just melt away, leaving you with your yard, your body, and your fire.

Nothing more, nothing less.
Perfect.

A Tale of Two Cities: Summer Reading Project.

Some of you guys might like this.

For my 11th grade year, I was to annotate 3 books to be counted as the first grade of the year for my English IV Honors class. This was what I turned in to my teacher for my final book’s annotation.:

A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens

       If my annotations have been read in the order that I have written them, you have probably noticed the the rather unimpressive job I have done annotating the last two selections.  The reason for this is because I find annotating literature astronomically tedious, while pulling the reader away from the intended style, theme, and literary merit that the aurthor has so diligently strived to create for you, the reader, to enjoy.

       Thus, in accordance to my views on mandatory literary annotation, I will not be providend annotations for A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens.  Having never read it before, I plan on giving my full attention, devoid of this pencil and pad of paper, to what many consider one of the greatest pieces of literature ever written.

       I give my deepest apologies if I have come across as being rebelious or if you think that I will be a problem in the classroom. And I also do not expect anything but a failing grade for this, having accepted the fact that you are to grade what we give you, and what I have given you is not satisfactory.

Can’t wait till school starts,
Dylan

 

Hopeless Romanticism wrapped in seaweed.

 Taylor, what we could have been..

I wish,
just for once,
that I could have the courage to say what I should have said at the start.

 

Like a cherry on top of my “Nice guys finish last” post, it seems the girl I’ve had a major thing for is now dating her old boyfriend.

yippee.

It’s good though, I suppose.

He’s a good guy.

They’ll be happy. (This time around, perhaps.)

On a different note: me and my little sister went out this afternoon for sushi. 

Spicy Tuna Roll. Dee-lish.

Although I prefer my rice and fish without a metaphorical bucket of remorse, temporary depression, and thoughts of what could have been, I am glad I was there.

Edit: And I snagged a cheap digital camera today, so when I get back from the concert I’m going to on Sunday, I’ll post some of the pictures.

A Wilhelm Scream
Only Crime
The Swellers
New Brookland Tavern
6pm Doors
$8 Advance / $10 Day Of Show
All Ages
Punk / Hardcore / Rock

Do nice guys ALWAYS finish last?

If you’re asking me, yes they do.

I’ve been a ‘nice guy’ my whole life, and I finish last.

I hear girls go on and on about how,”I wish I could just find that sweet, sensitive guy that’ll care about me and my feelings.”.

 Bull. Shit.

Know WHY that’s bullshit?  Because “sweet, sensitive guys” are overlooked.

Every-time.

Face it. Arrogant morons are usually funnier, often times more attractive (which leads to a certain cockyness), and more approachable then regular “nice guys”.

Big douchebags seem to have some sort of gravitational pull for perfectly nice girls to get sucked into. And when nice girls are in with the douchebag, that particular girl is busy dealing with that guy, or hating all guys in general once they break up for at least 2-3 weeks.

During that time, nice guys like me are probably sitting in the corner of a coffee shop, alone, without a douchebag-cell in their body.

Maybe think about that the next time you see a quiet guy at a bar, bookstore, or coffee shop.  There’s a chance he’s not a douchebag.

You know what? Fuck you, Dane Cook.

Dane Cook = mediocre.

 ”But Dylan! Don’t you think his jokes are funny?”

Sure.
The FIRST TIME I HEAR THEM.

“What about this Dane Cook joke? <insert lame-ass joke> ”

And he better thank his lucky fuckin’ stars that Jessica Alba is in his next movie,
that’s all I’m saying.

Now, granted, when I saw his Comedy Central special for the FIRST time, I thought it was entertaining.
But, then again, people getting paper cuts and when people suffer from headaches also go in the category of “What Dylan finds passingly entertaining”.

After seeing the special, I thought,”Hehe, well that was funny.” then proceeded to flip to the History channel to watch a show on nuclear submarines.

Did I go out and tell all my friends over and over again how much I liked it, then decide it was necessary to refresh the general public’s memory of my tv-watching evening by force-feeding his tired jokes into their brain?

Nope.