I need to finish some more top ten lists. And that blasphemy entry. In fact, I should go do that now in the hopes that my fatigue from barely sleeping all week somehow did not delete my ability to comprehend and write about the Infinite Universe Theory. For best results I should probably wait until next week when I'm rested. It takes quite a bit of brainpower to write those things unfortunately. Actually, the first four or five or whatever it was weren't too bad because they were significantly watered down variations of my opinions. The first three in particular. They're not very good arguments for atheism, it's just some stuff that I rushed on the page in desperation for site content. Speaking of site content, I've been trying to think of some good ideas for QuiEt cetera. I have no problem with the way it is, but if we get to the 10th entry and there's still no other links besides the Et cetera network connections, it may look a little bland.

I hate the clocks in this room. There's one on the computer and one on the wall across from me. The two of them are six minutes apart and six minutes is a lot when trying to write an entry. Every second counts to get maximum efficiency out of my typing ability. Maybe I'll write another one out by hand in ExOp today. Or maybe I could do some real work. Actually, I'm not sure what I would do. I have this illusion that I'm behind in all my classes, but again, I should look at my schedule once more and realize that I have no work really. The things I absolutely have to finish are my Religion 15 self-directed course (blah!) and I will get around to writing a resumé for C.A.L.M. Oh yes, and in T/A they're making everyone do a frickin' portfolio! And it's mandatory! I can't graduate unless I fill out this booklet that asks me what my talents are and what is my dream job and all my dreams for the future. Dream this, dream that. It's a waste of time and I really hate doing things like that. "Please select five of your talents from above and write about how they will be useful to you to help fulfill your dreams." Fuck you, I don't have dreams! I don't care about dreams! And I have to do this queer portfolio in order to graduate!? I can't graduate until I tell this cute xerox what I want to be when I grow up!? It's so juvenile. THAT is where this illusion of a lot of work comes from, I think. That stupid portfolio. I don't know what to write in the "what are your ambitions" section! You people have provided me with pages and pages of blank lines for me to fill up with my "ambitions" when all it takes is one sentence. "I would like to be a novelist." But nooooooo, you insist on making us elaborate! "I would like to be a novelist because it's what I always dreamed and all my dreams are about books and books and typewriters and people who love me and I've always wanted to win the nobel prize for writing a book plus I think it would extra super-duper neato if I had a gold star on my book or maybe one of those mondo titles like '#1 New York Times Bestseller' and I just love writing so much that I want to do it forever and ever and ever and ever until the end of time because that's my dream and my dreams can always come true because if you believe in yourself anything can happen and I will become a writer because it's fun and cool and way cool and--"

*gunshot*

On the same page in the newspaper that I saw this debauchery of mankind, there was a picture of a new vehicle they've got out called the Mini, or something, and it's based off a British racing car from the sixties. Something like that, anyway. It brought to my attention that automobiles--

!!

I have just experienced the most interesting evening/morning. Right now it is 2:08 a.m. and I am starting Entry #64 without any concern for the time. I am by no means tired and even if I was I wouldn't be able to sleep. What made today so interesting was one simple thing, and one complicated thing. The first, consisting of approximately four significant words, interrupted me in the middle of Entry #63 and required my attention elsewhere. The second, consisting of approximately two thousand significant words, has thrown me even further into this confused state of awe and contemplation. Although I'm typing away in a plainly English vernacular, this is easily the quietest entry I've ever written. All I can think to put is *silence* but that has very limited descriptive power. Even then, sometimes silence says more than words ever could; even if it is often misinterpreted. This should be the ultimate QuiEt cetera entry if only I hadn't already surrendured the name to someone else. It's quite amazing actually how these two things have transpired. One extreme to another in a matter of hours and I haven't moved from this chair. Literacy alone can be the sole cause of some of the most interesting fluctuations in emotion anyone could ever take part in. Heh...I'm writing these at the rate of about one sentence every five minutes it seems. Please try to imagine the content of this entry read aloud in a dull tone of voice with as little passion as possible. That's exactly how it's being written. Any sign of enthusiasm would certainly put a detrimental dent into my current state of mind. I'm glad there's nothing too distracting on the internet that doesn't have to be actively searched for. Any radical change to the whole ambience of this room right now is just unthinkable. I'd best not put on music. Not even slide this rolling chair the slightest bit. I fear it would ruin everything. But what's there to ruin? This is not absolute bliss. This is distorted melancholy and jaded amazement. Dare I switch paragraphs? No, better not. I feel very fragile but will not change my imood since change is outside the range of feasible actions at the moment. Even so, the current mood selected still applies, moreso than I am currently acknowledging. This is such a soft entry. My fingers just sit on top of the keys making this faint clicking sound everytime I add a letter. Right now, at this moment, I am the exact antipode of an angry person. I'm quite peaceful, probably because I'm thinking slowly. There is quite an abundance of thoughts, they're just going by at a slightly languid rate. I will probably be up for hours yet, even though the clock reads close to 3. So much re-organization and defragmentation of my thoughts to get around to tonight. Might as well start now. Adieu.

Then I'll go work on that network page again. It's so confusing. Does anybody out there know how to change the color of the links in an HTML table based on the individual row, and/or cell? Right, no response, that's what I thought.

I'm not sure if I've ever posted my patented nose smiley in an entry before, but I might as well since the mood fits. :^) I quite like it in Tahoma font, actually. It's become a very thematic graemlin it seems. Even though I stole it from Robert Brown. Or maybe Robert Brown stole it from Curtis Saxton. I'll have to look into that, but I'm reasonably certain it was Robert Brown's. And here I am rambling about internet emoticons. Geez, it's sparking a lot of conversation these days. I would copy and paste one such exchange but I'm far too peckish for something more interesting. Hm, CD's over, better change that. Blah, speaking of music, I have to make a bunch of mp3's later. Oh well, procrastination rules. That is later, this is now.

As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I've got to go and do something else that isn't productive in any way. Or wait, maybe I should stay and just continue talking. I haven't written an entry properly in awhile now, as if there is a proper way. I just much prefer to write them without an end in mind. No that's not it. I should be able to write most of these without going back and editing anything other than typos (which I made on the word "anything," in this sentence [damn, did it again]). One day I might even consider going through all of this and correcting anything that is spelled wrong. I can't stand spelling errors of my own. I don't mind it when other people spell things wrong with the exception of a few words, but I just can't stand it every time I type "dilemna" and just know that I'm wrong. Have I discussed that before? I don't think so. There isn't as much content in these entries as I once suspected. So I'll talk about it now. You see, somehow I learnt that the word "dilemma" was spelled "dilemna," which it isn't, but I was under the assumption that this, the incorrect spelling, was the correct spelling. And I still think that all the time and I swear it looks right as "dilemna." Seriously, doesn't that double M just piss you off? Well, it pisses me off. Things like that always bother me, though. I believe it's in my Passionate Hatreds field for my profile. Thinking that something incorrect is correct and then coming to the realization that what you have been thinking is correct is actually not. It's terribly depressing.

I think I'm going to make a section for the happenings in the world of employment. There's a lot that I've always wanted to talk about from what happens at my workplace but I just thing it makes this section look a little too much like a journal, or something like that. Now that I'm quitting this job, I can start the section from scratch with a new job. If I get the job, that is. Maybe I will put that up in a second. But first, let's discuss bongos. I downloaded this program that allows you to create percussion beats and I've discovered that it is virtually impossible to create an upbeat song using bongos. Well, you can, but you can't make it sound good. The most upbeat song in existence with bongos is Voodoo by Godsmack, I think. Everything else is generally slow because I think all these musical sharps gather together and decide to write an upbeat song with bongos, and then they do, but when they sit down and try and play it, it's chaos. They start with some elaborate fill-in and then there's supposed to be a guitar chord or something to kick off the song as the actual beat begins, but the drummer stops because the guitar player didn't play his chord because he vomited all over the amplifier after hearing the terrible fast bongo beat. Then the bassist quits because he thinks they have no talent, and the guitar play says "Screw you , bongo drummer-man," because he made him throw up all over a $1500 dollar amplifier. Then the drummer doesn't know what's going on so he gives up the bongos and tries to play professional triangle in an orchestra but becomes a washout and has to live on the street. The lead singer goes off to see if Van Halen is hiring. This is why most bands break up after awhile. Lennon decided to write a song with fast bongo beats and that was the end of the Beatles. Poor guy tried it again in his solo career and someone shot him for it. I imagine Lee Harvey Oswald wasn't a fan of reggae.

Oo wait!! Epiphany!! I've discovered the cause of racism towards blacks!! Upbeat bongo songs in reggae music!! It sounds so bad that people just started to hate the people who wrote the music. Alright, heading into the stairway of pins and needles with this one, so I'm just going to leave now. One last smiley for good luck. :^)

Now then, getting onto other various things that I hate. Watching really fat people eat. It's very disheartening. There's this one fat kid that decided to start munching down on an indecipherable meat product in the middle of last class and he just stands there looking stupid while doing it. It's just ugly. Very very ugly. I hate these fat folk who spend their thinking time lamenting and crying over how ugly they are as though it isn't there fault. "But it's in my family. It's the hormones. I have a poor metabolism." Fuck you! If you don't want to be fat you won't be fat. It's not that difficult. If you hate it so much get off your lazy ass and do something about it! "Oh, I've tried, but my metabolism is just too--" SHUT UP!! Dammit, quit putting the blame on other things! I hate that. I hate when people refuse to blame themselves for anything that has gone wrong.

Alright, just to give myself something to talk about, perhaps I'll throw together a series of unrelated words that I pick up from my surroundings and...um...make up a hypothetical product to put on the market from that list. Or something. Well, we'll see how it goes. Hmm...we've got pink, plants, plasma, cold, braces, cap guns, mail, a 2x4, curly hair and a ski mask. What can we do with a list like that?

Introducing....The 2-in-1 Composite Hair Dye Lawnmower Dental Snowsuit!!! With this product, even you can have pink hair during the summer time while mowing your lawn! Why take the time to mow your lawn and dye your hair when you can do it at the same time? Whoa! Simply cut the included 2x4 to your height and attach it to the base of your Composite Hair Dye Lawnmower Dental Snowsuit. If you're wearing braces, be sure to coat the metallic pieces in plasma beforehand or else the plant food that the machine runs on may get caught in your teeth. Start the lawnmower function of the machine by firing your cap gun into the gas tank. This will cause a sudden explosion of cold, cold snow. You may wish to shield the blast from your face with a ski mask. Start mowing your lawn and the wheels attached to the intricate gear system will spray hot pink hair dye at your face. Fortunately, the 2x4 is blocking your face and hopefully any other part of you that you wish not to get coated in pink hair dye. If the 2x4 is too small, by all means, mail us your complaint and we will replace it with a hair dye resistent snowsuit.

I'm really running out of ideas here...

Hm, that wasn't nearly as exhilarating as I had hoped for. Oh, I remember something I was going to talk about! When did the word "anorexic" become synonymous with "thin?" I missed this transition somewhere but I've noticed that some people point out thin people and comment on how they're anorexic. Anorexia is a stupid stupid disease, not a physical characteristic. And I should think being referred to as anorexic because you're thin is rather insulting. I often wonder if these people who choose to describe others this way are actually trying to compliment them or not. It's terribly confusing when people start mixing up their definitions.

Yet again, I'm out of things to talk about. Maybe I should actually think of things to say before I start writing these entries. No, wait, first I should shut up. I think I've spent more time talking about how I should think of things to say before I start entries than I have writing entries themselves. And now I'm sitting here talking about how I talk about how I should think things up before I start entries. This is not content! I go through the list of entriesand I can think of maybe...five? Maybe six that are any good at all. Yes, shutting up for good on the subject now. If I ever start talking about it again, kick me in the face.

I really want to see a new color. There are probably all kinds of colors that I ihave never seen before considering the plethora of combinations you can make out of red, yellow and blue. But I mean a new primary color. Red, yellow, blue and color x. Something that nobody has ever seen before. Do you think I could comprehend that? Or anyone for that matter? Is it even possible? I wonder if this entire universe is composed of just those three primary colors. That would be rather depressing. In this vast expanse of...absolute crap, you'd think there would be some different colors somewhere. I somehow doubt it though simply because there's no reason for the existence of other primary colors. That's my logic in almost everything I believe and disbelieve actually. At lunch today I was listening in on a conversation about reincarnation. There is way too many people who believe in this hogwash. It's completely irrational. You want to die and come back as a grain of sand? Or a frog? "When I die, I think I'll come back as a Safeway bag!" Some people actually believe this! Explain exactly how a dead human being will somehow come back to life in the form of an apple tree, please. Sure, it's a nice thought, and that's why people believe it. It would be nice if we were reincarnated and were given that sense of immortality, but we're not! I'm sorry, it just doesn't work that way. There's no reason for us to be reincarnated. It doesn't fit the plan, as far as plans go. Nothing about reincarnation fits in with everything that can be proven. Why do you believe this? Why why why? It's just like religion, or rather a subsidiary of religion that deals with the afterlife. Are you so afraid of dying that you will convince yourself that there is life after death? And it's better? That's just as irrational as reincarnation. Just to get a few more licks on this topic while I'm at it, there are also a number of people who somehow think that if we were to be reincarnated, we would remember our past lives. "I want to come back as a guy, just to see what it's like." Assuming you were actually able to compare that life to your own right now, don't you think you would also be able to remember lives past? "Hey, Fred! Remember that time when we were blowfish in the Precambrian Era! Man, that was a blast huh?" So let me get this straight, since you can't remember your incarnate lives of the past, logically, you won't be able to remember who you are today when reincarnated after your death in this life, right? Right. If that's the case, why in the hell would you call it reincarnation at all!? If you can't discern that your reincarnated life as a persian rug comes after your life as a blade of grass and just thirty years before you led a life as a brown chicken, what's the link? If you don't know you are reincarnated, who's to say that you are? Is anyone getting this? Is this semi-erudite paragraph enough to convince you that reincarnation is a stupid thing to believe in? I can never tell if I've made my point clear enough or not. I'll try once more: What is the connection between you and your reincarnated self after you die? No that was bad too! Fuck, I can't write persuasive articles anymore!

Hopefully I can explain that in words that reincarnation is a stupider belief than mutant space bats from hell. Speaking of mutant bats, have you ever been reading a book where they describe a fictional creature so vaguely that all your imagination has to work with is a color and maybe the presence of wings? So you formulate a mental picture of what this creature looks like in your head and go with that. Then later on in the book, the author describes the creature in further detail, and you realize that the mental image of this creature you've created for yourself is completely wrong? Doesn't that suck? Please, describe these things in detail when they're first introduced. It's confusing. Worse is when there is an illustration of the creature sitting in the middle of the book, and you look at it, and because it doesn't fit your mental image of the creature, you're thinking "what the hell is that thing and why haven't I read about it? I must've skipped a few pages!" Argh²!

Getting onto something a little less sordid, I think it would be really revolting to serve a sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, mustard, ham, cheese, eyebrows and sub sauce. This is one of the word associations that I come up with from time to time. Eyebrows and sandwiches don’t exactly go hand in hand but when you include them in the same sentence (or god forbid, the same hideous meal) everything becomes weird. Just weird. Nothing else. Eyebrows on your sandwich is simply weird. The same applies to things like fly-fishing with your computer’s central processing unit in the middle of the desert. It’s just weird. Then all of a sudden, you’re reminded of lemons. Why is that? Or maybe it’s just me.

I’ve chosen kooky for the first time today on imood. It’s just that picturing that beautiful white dog getting kicked across a gymnasium is too funny for anything but. I also looked at the “imood history” that the site keeps track of. Apparently I usually feel bored but that’s no surprise. Anyway, having looked over that history, I realize that I visit that site too much for my own good. I’ve chosen and re-chosen my imood so many time. Uh oh, I’m running out of time in this class. Better post the entry and get out of here.

1. To inflict severe pain on; torture.
   
2. To inflict great mental distress on.

So I propose that today, everyone who reads this entry must use the word "excruciate" in a sentence today. You now know what it means, so use it. Will you actually do it? Not likely. Nobody will go out of their way to use a word they found on Et cetera in a sentence, especially if the opportunity to use the word never arises. Oh well, I wouldn't want to excruciate my readers like that, anyway.

3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164

Making progree with my good friend pi, there. I should probably get around to making a section on pi. Or pi merchandise, as was suggested long ago. Yeah, maybe later. In the meantime I have to work on more memorization.

3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164
3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164
3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937510582097494459230--Ack!! Why did Satisfaction just get stuck in my head?! Oh god! Noooooooooooo! What a bad bad song! Something like that should not stick in my head...never never never. The drums are ugly, the riff is ugly, the singing is ugly, the singer is ugly, the whole freaking band is ugly.

I'm going to type in numbers for awhile.

20-8-9-19 9-19 18-5-1-12-12-25 8-1-18-4. 9 13-21-19-20 2-5 2-15-18-5-4. 3-18-1-16, 14-15-23 9 23-1-14-20 20-15 13-5-13-15-18-9-26-5 20-8-9-19 4-9-19-7-21-19-20-9-14-7-12-25 19-9-13-16-12-5 6-15-18-13 15-6 3-15-4-9-14-7. *19-9-7-8* 13-15-18-5 21-19-5-12-5-19-19 13-5-13-15-18-9-26-1-20-9-18-14. 6-21-14, 20-8-15-21-7-8.

This entry has been brought to you by a series of short paragraphs.

And another thing: you know when you give yourself a really good stretch and just lean all the way back in your chair with a satisfying yawn? But then, all of a sudden, some strange noise comes out of your mouth? Like you just ran over a frog with a tricycle? What is that??

And have you ever been on the bus and quietly minding your own business when you notice that someone else sitting across from you is doing something that you're sure only you can identify with? For example, let's say your favourite band is...Thrush Hermit, an Eastern Canadian group that nobody's heard of. And let's say that your favourite Thrush Hermit song is "You Got An Answer," which also just happens to be a song that you're sure nobody has ever heard of. But you're here sitting on the bus and the stranger sitting across from you starts humming "You Got An Answer"!! And you're thinking to yourself, "Hey, that guy's humming my song! How does he know that song exists?" And you keep on thinking that maybe you should say something. Maybe you should mention, "Hey, that's Thrush Hermit isn't it?" But in the end you don't say anything and get off the bus feeling really dissatisfied and go home to read your copy of your favourite book Rhapsody of the Chicken Wing, which I'm sure the guy on the bus had sitting in his flourescent orange backpack. Damn that's hard on the eyes, ain't it? Too bad you painted all the walls in your bedroom the exact same shade.

"What do you mean I'm the only one who loves flourescent orange this much!? You shoulda seen the guy on the bus!"

1. A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.

I think "affection" is a good word to use when attempting to define love in words. However, the rest of this definition is just another example of how people take things too seriously. Things like "deep and tender" is just gawdy language. Some people freak out over this word and it drives me bananas. "Ohmygodhetoldmehelovesme!!! WhatamIgoingtodo?!?!!" Take a sedative, miss, it's not that big of a deal. Perhaps he meant defintion number 2:

2. A feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person with whom one is disposed to make a pair; the emotion of sex and romance.

Even just the last half of that is sufficient in defining love as best as it can be defined in words. The emotion of sex and romance, sure, that makes sense to me. I'm tired of this word anyway. There's a song I just heard not two seconds ago that says love is an old-fashioned word. And the song is twenty years old! Use it for what it means please. No more of this "true love" crap, either. It's meaningless. All love is true love, otherwise it wouldn't be called love. Well, it might be called "fake love" but I can't imagine why you'd bother with a useless expression like that.

You see, I think the music has enacted massive overkill on love. At least half of the songs ever written have something to do with love and it doesn't mean anything in music anymore. Country music is extremely bad for this. Let's see, I own a few country CDs. I'll do a quick count.

Okay, so 54 out of the 75 country songs I own are love songs in one way or another. That's a lot of frickin' songs. And I'll bet over 90% of the ones that hit the radio are love songs. It's overkill. Love songs don't mean anything anymore. Good ones are very rare. Now I'm not saying that love is meaningless at all. Sure, it means something, but not to the extreme that some people think. Like I said, people freak out about it as if their family was slaughtered or something. I say that you can love whatever the hell you want. Some people talk about it like love is involuntary. Which it isn't. "Oh believe you me, you'll know when you're in love." What do you mean "you'll know"? That's a bunch of crap I think. Love is not involuntary. If you say to someone "I love you," then you're telling the truth. Unless you are lying and actually know that you are lying. Unless you are purposely going out of your way to deceive this person, that's about as true as love can get. Now then, getting to my actual point, which will doubtlessly be shorter than the introduction.

There is a certain fire about young love that a person will never ever experience again. At least that's what I think. It saddens me that this fire I imagine even exists, simply because I know that it has been wasted so many times. Most young people will never experience it and I somehow expect that I will be one of them. I'm very good at wasting potentially perfect experiences like that. This fire that I'm talking about is probably due to the fact that everything related to love is so new and fresh when you're young. And I think it's an absolute tragedy that this gets wasted time and time again because everyone's so afraid of it. It's all very sad.

This is terrible. I honestly can't think of anything to write about. This is the least appealing entry ever. It's nothing but crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap ...several times over.

I typed every single one of those, you know. Believe me, I did. Every last one. And I can type "crap" pretty damn fast too. The trick is to put your left index finger on the C, middle finger on the R and pinky on the A. Then your right hand ring finger is on the P and your right hand thumb works the spacebar. Try it. It's mondo.

What a crappy entry.