there’s a whole world out there.

I’ve been counting down the days. 72 days until graduation. 42 days until the IB examinations hit. It comes as something of a shock to think that I’ll be graduating from high school in less than two and a half months, but I’m confident that I’m prepared for whatever it is that the world can throw at me outside the confines of my high school life.

And it’s a little sad knowing that I’m 18 and very much stuck in first gear. I thought that life as a (legal) adult would be filled with raunchy adventures from the first moment. Wild sexual encounters with strangers, late nights consuming life-threatening volumes of alcohol, and days spent cleaning up from the night before. Maybe that will come with college life. All in all it’s too early to take stabs at the future.

In order to add some flavor to my life outside of high school I’m planning a trip with some friends that will take place immediately pending graduation. The idea is simple – find a warm, sunny place with beautiful beaches and cheap booze. Get tanned, get wasted, and get back home. Sadly there are far more problems in the implementation of this than I would like; getting people to come to a consensus on a location, on the means of transport, and on accommodations is a dreary mess. This is my first undertaking and I hope to make it a success.

But there’s so much out there, waiting. Everything up to now has been so constrained, so planned and cold. Already I can see chance and opportunity, new cities and new people. Come quick now.

Listening to:  Taking Back Sunday – You Know How I Do

you’re not black.

Yes, your skin is remotely dark. The clothing you wear is baggy, the shoes at home on the concrete walkways of the world. Your hat is tipped backwards at an absurd angle, the sweatshirt is loose enough. You talk black, you dress black, but give the fuck up. It’s 33°C outside and you’re wearing sweatpants and a fucking hoodie, “hangin’ wit’ yo homies” and talking shit through your worthless mouth.

Grow up, tool.

i’ve no clue why the caged bird sings.

These people I see around me are simpletons. They laugh over little nothing, their smiles come easy and last for too long. Mud is all they are – they strive for nothing, their aspirations mean nothing. They shrug off their very existence and all that has been bestowed upon them as if it were all created with a careless gesture.

Mud is static. Perhaps these people are lesser than mud, some cast-away remnant of the primordial soup from which we all hail. They have sprung from the mud and to the mud they will return as they age and their features melt away and all that they have worked without pain to acquire leaves them.

And then we’ll see who has the last laugh.