I know.
I am wrong.
I am sorry.

So I'm here at the UVU's critically acclaimed math lab, and I have run up against a problem that I cannot get right. So, in this instance, I will call upon the aid of a math tutor; who, with skills that astound and amaze, will point out my glaring error. To call upon one of these intrepid souls, i will signal them with a banner, a standard, a flag of sorts. Then, with speed and agility far surpassing others of their chosen profession, they will walk, across the floor even, to my aid.
Its all very reminiscent of how things happen at work.

The chandelier spread broken angular light across the brick wall intermittently covered with stucco, creating a rich tapestry of light and texture, which appealed to the in crowd that frequented the “live music gallery”. She sat with her back against the wall, looking down at the floor in a disapproving sort of way. Ignoring warbling acoustic guitar player number four, I made my way across the room weaving in and out of people dressed as though attending a costume party with a 70s theme.
“Hey.” I said, giving her my hand.
“Hi.” She said, taking it.
We walked through the crowd, light and shadow playing across her face, until we hit the street, washing everything out in pale amber. We walked down the street, the over familiar music fading away, until it was gone completely.

Its not even that I don't get the concepts.
I understand them just fine. Its the myriad of bullshit that I have to wade through to finish one assignment. Its starting on a fifteen problem assignment, and then an hour later still plugging away, (literally, because I have to plug all sorts of things in to finish one problem) swimming in a veritable ocean of numbers, signs, variables and the occasional scribble. I simply cannot comprehend how other students, with full class loads, are able to do all of this bullshit. Perhaps they do it whilst they do other things, such as eat, drive, or even as they sleep. But alas, I am not capable of completing those tasks at the same time. Humbly born, I am capable of only executing one task at a time. Two, if the tasks in question were of basic nature, involving few of the comprehensive skills. But this does not seem to be so for the general populous, offering no complaints of time constraints.
And so I forge onward in my arduous journey, my pen traveling across page after page, filling; nay, consuming them. My use of the resource alone wreaking havoc upon the rain forest, evicting animals form their homes, and sparking Eco-friendly campaigns world wide.

cristofe Langley Shoryu
seriously?

Secret Bread.
Its secret see, so its cool.

1. Throw 150 Million dollar party for me.
2. Make people say "Comrade president", instead of Mister.
3. Throw another party. (Bigger?)

Just because you take some shitty picture with an expensive camera and then you change it to black and white with a button does not make you a good photographer. It makes you a pretentious asshole.
Man, I hate people. I just hate them so much. You take some class in high school and all of a sudden you're some fucking genius?
Seriously?
High School.
Jesus fucking christ.

The Dead Like Me movie is set for release febuary 17th.
Anybody else anticipating this event?

The problem I'm having is that I don't see words, I see actions. I could write a screenplay much better than this. I can describe how things should look, how a shot should be set up, but I can't just sit down and write it. It kind of makes me mad.

The snow blanketed field glowed, reflecting the light of the full moon. I stood across the fence from her, its railings capped with snow.
She outstreched her hand, kept warm by a knit purple glove. She dropped something bright into my outstreched palm. She turned and walked along the fence, and over a hill.
I looked at the thing she had given me.
It was a large sterling silver locket.

It was empty.

The bright orange sun glinted off of the cars passing beneath the highway overpass. I shielded my eyes, trying to hear what she was saying over the noise of the highway.
She was plain. Not unattractive, just plain. She had shockingly blond hair that clashed with her green eyes. I wondered if it was fake.
"Throw these!" She said, pointing at a pair of shiny blue galoshes on the dingy sidewalk.
"What?"
She picked up the boots and thrust them at me.
"Throw my boots!"
"Why?"
"Just do it!" She said. "That way." She pointed out over the brightly flashing highway.
"No!"
"Come on! She yelled, forcing them into my hands. "Just do it!"
I looked at the shoes. They shone. I looked back at her. She smiled. I looked at the highway. It flashed.
The galoshes flashed as they arced out over the highway, slowly falling somewhere in between shining cars.

I've been having wierd dreams.
Seriously, wierdest dreams I've ever had.
Not lke the things are really wierd, they're just wierd. I remeber all of them when I wake up. They're so vivid.
Its wierd.

agro agro agro tank, agro.
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
people who play wow are weird people.

Everybody plays wow.

*audible exhalation of breath*

my little brother got a wii for Christmas. it came with wii sports, because that is the sort of thing that wiis do. but he says that making and playing sports games with miis is stupid. now, I think that the miis are probably the funniest thing about the wii. so he spent all day playing on his old systems and I made all the cool miis. A whole lot of communists including Obama, and the beatles. man, I'm a genius.

Man you guys, this is a delicious sandwich.

why the fuck do I pay taxes. why don't the people that get snowplows pay taxes, and I'll just clear my entire street by hand.