Dear friends,

To all of you, old and new, I love you. I've lost one this summer, and I cannot bear the thought of losing another. I said my goodbyes, Kevin, but you are still with me. I missed my opportunity to tell you "I love you," and as the Mayor said, I will not miss that opportunity with the rest of my friends. You have taught me this, along with much, much more.

This summer has reminded me of something I forgot. Amongst my first year of college, and all the awesome new friends I made, I forgot something about my old friends. I forgot how special those relationships are, and, not to belittle those I share with my new friends, how irreplaceable and important they are. I have a bond with these people, and the bond I have with those from high school came at a cost. Multiple tragedies brought us this close, so as much as I value the new friendships I'm forming, I apologize, but I never want to pay that price again.

As I said, I had forgotten. I was so ready to move on to a new chapter and had allowed the past to grow out of focus, but I have been reminded how absolutely essential they all are to my very being. Instead, I move forward with both the old and the new. To Will, Megan, Rachel, Ryan, Adam, (not to forget my friends from church Quintin, Erik, and the rest, and my very best friend for life, Leon), and Kevin as he now truly lives in the presence and glory of God, I love you. To Ken, David, Kris, Josh, Andrea, Mitch, Heidi, Sarah Ann, and all the rest, I love you as well. Onwards.

Hurt

I still hurt. I always will. Kevin was too important for this to completely heal, but my pain is not the greatest hurt. It's my friends'. When I witness their sorrow, their pain, I hurt so much more. I can handle my own pain, but I feel helpless and unable to do anything or provide any comfort for my friends. I never really planned ahead, but they did. Without Kevin, those plans are forever altered or even lost. I have no more tears left, but they're still crying. I am left unable to offer more than a hug or a comforting word, but that is merely a band-aid for the gaping hole in their hearts. I know their pain, I feel it too, but I don't know how to heal it. Kevin is in heaven now, I have peace in that, but my friends still here in this world still know pain and hurt. As long as that is true for them, it is true for me, but when we are reunited with God and Kevin we will know pain and hurt no more. In the mean time, onwards.

Good bye

How do I say good bye? Better yet, how do I say thank you? You were not only a good person, but you were one of the best I've ever known. You were so talented, and you dedicated the use of those talents fully to God. You lead our school with humility, long before anyone would have asked it of you. Without you, our school couldn't even have run. Most importantly, you are my friend. You make me better; you make me want to be the best I can be.

I grieve you're lost potential. After what you accomplished in 18 years, I can only imagine what you could have done in 80. You were the one who would change the world. Instead, you leave it upon us, to use our talents the way you used yours. You impacted so many lives so deeply, myself among them, that maybe more may be accomplished because of the inspiration you are than what you alone may have done.

Yet, I still don't understand. Why are you gone? Why has someone so irreplaceable left us with such gaping holes in our hearts? I want to blame God, question God, because that would be easy, but I can't. I may never understand till you yourself can explain it to me one day.

You left your class and all those in attendance of your graduation with one word. I find more comfort in what you told us than anything else. Life moves along, and if we are to properly honor you, we must do likewise. We cannot dwell upon our loss, but must rejoice in what you left us. You inspire me with this word, and in your memory, I now leave this for all those who read this and future posts. As you say: onwards.

Why me?

Tonight I drove by the sight of my accident. The chunk of the bush I took out is growing back nicely, and apart from the one corner being shorter, there is no sign left of what happened there two years ago. I always think back and ask why me? Not why did it happen to be in the first place, but why did I survive it? It was my fault and my responsibility, yet now I count my accident among my blessings. Why me? I surely don't deserve it. I barely even had to pay the consequences of my actions. A couple hundred dollar ticket is surely a fair price for my life.

I was returning home from hanging out with friends, watching a movie, and talking about life. Ever since middle school, I have been overwhelmingly blessed with friendship. Why me? I have so many friends who I love and trust completely, and have never really lacked this since the start of high school. Considering how hard it is for me with new people, this is truly incredible, especially considering how easily I made great friends in college when I knew absolutely no one. The greatest thing is I know my feelings are reciprocated. Even my newest of friends drove across two states to visit me, and my oldest has brightened when I reaffirmed he is my best friend. They are all incredible people, and I understand not everyone can claim the same about their friends.

Even now, as I sit in my room, I ask why me? I barely have to look around to see a computer, a bed, a TV, an Xbox, shelves of books, and countless reminders of a happy childhood. I was born in America to hard working and loving parents. They've always provided for me, and I've never truly known want or hunger. What have I done to deserve this? I was born into such opportunity.

I reflect further on my parents and then on my family, and again I ask, why me? I love my parents, and they love me. I could not ask for a more perfect pair. Sure we have fought, but all those times pale in comparison to everything else. They raised me as best they could, and should have no regrets. I know too many people, good people and great friends, who cannot share this joy. My sister and brother, although as imperfect as I am, are also true blessings in my life. They love me, even if they (by which I mean my brother in particular) don't necessarily say it, they show it in ways only a sibling can. Even at my age, I still have plenty to learn from my brother, yet he displays patience and kindness in teaching me. My sister, though separated from me by years, still makes the effort to connect with me, and bond. Again, this is no result of anything I have done, simply the chance of birth.

Again, why me? Why has God blessed me so? Why not any one of those in Haiti, or those suffering at the hands of Joseph Kony and the LRA? It is unfair; I recognize this. I suppose if it was fair, and I did deserve this, it wouldn't be grace. As Relient K says, "the beauty of grace is it makes life not fair;" however, I am not content with this. This unfairness does not sit well with me. Perhaps this is why God has blessed me; this is the answer to "why me?" God has extended me this grace, so I may extend it to others. I simply pray God also blesses me with the strength to do all I can do. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night, folks.

4 8 15 16 23 42

I would be remiss if I said nothing about LOST. I watched this show from the very beginning, all the way through last night's finale. Wow, simply wow. It was breathtaking, the greatest epic I have ever seen. From the opening to the close, it never wavered from the standard of excellence it set in the pilot episode. I'm glad I could be a part of this spectacular work of art produced in our times, this cultural phenomenon that was worth all of its hype.

I understand not all are happy with the finale. It wasn't what they expected, what they wanted, it betrayed them, it didn't answer their questions. To them I say, how could you watch this show for six years, and expect anything of it, other than it to defy your expectations? This show would be utterly disappointing if all of a sudden, it did anything else than what it always has, shock its audience and challenge us all to think about what we just saw. It was LOST, true to its very character. It didn't spoon-feed us anything. It never has, and if it started now, I would have been severely disappointed.

If you, however, are one of the people who disagree and expected it answer your questions, expected it to go as plan, expected it to be as you expected, then I'm sorry, and it may be harsh, but you are not a true lostie. LOST trademark was defying expectations. It made no promises but to wow you, and perhaps leave you wondering. It held up its promise, and did not deny its fans their love of speculating and theorizing. True LOST fans, true losties, can fill in the blanks themselves, and know just how fantastic that is. Until next time, stay lost my friends, and good night.

Seriously?

I found out recently that one of my former friends openly admits he hates me. This shouldn't bother me since I long ago wrote him off as a friend, yet it does. When I cut him out, I simply stopped hanging out with him, or including him when I did things, but I didn't do anything to intentionally piss him off. I suppose there was something over Christmas. He normally had a few friends over New Years Eve, myself included most years, but of course I didn't want to go this year. With this completely out of my mind, I organized a get together with my friends the only day I could, New Years Eve (I organized this before he invited me to his annual New Years Eve thing). I even told one of our mutual friends who had been invited to both to go to the other shindig. Next thing I know, this former friend wants to egg my house that night, and now hates me enough to tell people about it. Like I said, I dropped his friendship a long time ago after beginning to realize he wasn't a very good person or friend, and I simply didn't like him anymore. Still, it really bugs me that he hates me. Sure I don't like him, but I wouldn't say I hate him, not even close. This shouldn't bug me, yet it does. I just don't know. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

What have I learned?

One year of college down, let's see what I have learned this past year (in no particular order).
1) How to function on minimal sleep
2) How to function on no sleep
3) How to use chopsticks
4) How to enjoy drinking coffee
5) Do not expect Tom to fulfill his promises when Team USA beats Team Canada
6) Do not ask Tom to recite Bible verses
7) How to mix concrete
8) How to build a wall
9) How to speak French, sorta… Okay, I think I can say hello.
10) Kris makes awesome food (dinner and dessert)
11) How to do bass on hard for Rock Band
12) Do not challenge the Halo god, he will pwn you like a noob and destroy your childhood
13) Where the turtle pond is
14) On that note, how to get Heidi really mad at you (also, Bejeweled)
15) How to not get girls really mad at you in general (it’s a work in progress)
16) Tattoos on the inside of your arm really hurt
17) They can be really worth it
18) How to swing dance
19) How to flip people/swing stunts
20) How not to flip Joshua
21) How to keep a blog
22) How to procrastinate like a pro
23) How to get to the roof of the student union
24) Urban Spelunking/trespassing or breaking certain broadly interpreted anti-terrorism laws
25) How to adjust for ‘Ryan Time’ (add 15 minutes)
26) Jane Austin is better with zombies
27) Wizarding Independence Day is May 2. Prepare for it next year and celebrate it properly
28) Apparently, Zordon is a racist
29) You cannot appease the Tetris gods
30) I love Hulu
31) The best way to play the floor is lava
32) That people can be like pies, with a third, deeper layer that’s exactly like the first
33) His fists aren’t the hammer… well, you know
34) [removed due to, well, it’s from SIGPoBarB]
35) [removed due to, well, it’s from SIGPoBarB]
36) [removed due to, well, it’s from SIGPoBarB]
37) [removed due to, well, it’s from SIGPoBarB]
38) [removed due to, well, it’s from SIGPoBarB]
39) [removed due to, well, it’s from SIGPoBarB]
40) [removed due to, well, it’s from SIGPoBarB]
41) [removed due to, well, it’s from SIGPoBarB]
42) [removed due to, well, it’s from SIGPoBarB]
43) You can learn more from your peers sometimes than from your professors
44) Great friends are forever and irreplaceable, but new ones can always be made
45) There are churches that are simply buildings where you gather, and there are churches that are the community of people that make them up.
46) If I manage to only do one thing God has told me to do, it is going to be to love.
47) God wanted me in Arizona. It’s all part of a larger plan he has for me that I can see playing out in my life.
Also, something about equations, particles, forces, and integrals. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

Interviews

I met Prophete in Haiti. Once he found out my camera could take video, he wanted to interview him. I let him in exchange for him letting me interview him.

Prophete's interview of me


My interview of Prophete

Seeing God through Shattered Glass

I sat there, stuck between the white truck in front of me and the white car behind me the first morning in May. I waited in my own green Mazda as the cop walked from his unmarked cruiser to mine. We exchanged the traditional civilities, “License and registration,” “Here you are, officer,” “Do you know you were going eighteen over the speed limit?” “Yes sir”: the normal exchange. He proceeded to the truck which he, impressively, had pulled over along side of me.

As he dealt with the other driver, I called my mom. Better to let her know now than later I thought. Unsurprisingly, she was not happy, and unfortunately, half of my classmates passed me as I sat there. I would have to deal with their grief all day before returning home to deal with my mom’s. I knew I would not be speeding for at least the next several days, if I was even driving.

Eventually he was finished with each of us and returned to me with my ticket. I politely told the officer, “Thank you,” and drove off. Only two days later those words would be much more than a simple gratuity.
____________________________________________________________

It had been a long week of track and then drama practice until ten, and homework until twelve or even one in the morning. Add to that my speeding ticket on Thursday and Saturday came at a great relief. The night before was the first performance of Bye, Bye, Birdie, our school musical, and after this night it would all be over, finally.

I returned to school for the last night of our spring drama. I had only a small role in the musical, and eventually, it was all over. Afterwards, the entire cast went out to eat to cap off the production. We ate and hung out, and shortly after eleven, I was in my own car, on my way home.

I drove north from the restaurant and eventually was on Buckley Road, which takes me straight home. The late nights and stress of the week were catching up with me as I drove, but I was sure I could make it home safely. Within five minutes of my house, I found out just how wrong I was.

I fell asleep only to be woken up by the median divider my car had driven onto. I had only a second to recognize the bush in front of me and process, “Oh, crap,” before I flipped my car, rose into the air, and landed with a bang back on the road and on the driver’s side of the car, before coming back down, right side up.

The world stopped, time froze around me. I looked around my car. The smell of gunpowder filled the air and a tingle of numbness rested on my lips. Both airbags hung limp after having exploded outward to protect me and a passenger who did not exist. The face of the radio was detached and missing. One side view mirror remained, tethered only by some wires, but its brother was missing entirely. The windshield had fractured, its cracks rippling out from the corner like a stone in a broken pond. My mind proceeded to myself, but I felt no pain. I put my hands to my face and only than did I feel the cold blood running down from the top of my head.

I knew I needed to call for help. Only briefly did I consider calling my parents, but I could not bare the thought of telling my parents, my mom especially, that I had not kept their son safe. Instead, I pulled my phone from my pocket, and although it had been whining for hours to be charged, made the 911 call.

“Hello, 911. What is your emergency,” a woman with a calm voice asked me.

“Hello,” I told the operator, “I was just in a car accident. I fell asleep and rolled my car. I’m north on Buckley, just south of Buckley and Quincy. I’m in a green Mazda 626, license plate 316-GDM. I have blood running down my forehead.” The rush of information was as much for my benefit as for hers. I had to prove to myself that I was okay. I had not forgotten anything or hurt my head in my crash and was relieved to find out that much was true.

Before the call had even ended, the first police officer had arrived and within the next thirty seconds, so had an ambulance, a fire truck, and several more cop cars. After insuring that I was okay and receiving my information, they let me get out of the car. Miraculously, I was able to do so under my own power. My legs had not been injured, and I could open the door without any sort of jam or struggle. I sat myself on the stretcher and the EMTs strapped me in. One of the officers, having just heard my name, asked, “Stibrich? Is your mom JoAnn Stibrich and does she work at Mt. Olive?”

“Yes,” I answered him, but I failed to grasp the strangeness of the question.
Another officer offered to call my parents, and I immediately accepted, knowing that I could not do it myself. “But please,” I appealed, “make sure you tell them first that I am okay,” anything to calm their fear.

I was loaded into the ambulance and taken to the hospital. The ride was oddly pleasant. It was nice to be away from the car, now smashed and tattered, and inside something sheltered. The EMT riding along in the back was young, but very nice. He helped me to relax and calm down as I had been shaking since I stepped out of my car. Soon enough, I was being unloaded from the ambulance and wheeled into the emergency room. Before he left me in the hands of an ER doctor and nurses, the EMT turned to me and told me, “You are the luckiest guy I’ve seen all day,” and he was right. I had just gone through a violent crash and came out of it with only scratch on my head.

A nurse came and attended to me. Soon afterwards the sound of wailing entered the room, and about a minute later, my mom followed her own cries in with my dad close behind. The next few moments were a fury of tears and hugs as my parents were relieved to hold me in their arms and know that I was okay.

Soon after the reunion calmed down, the same officer who asked about my mom entered the room. He wanted to check up on me, and on my mom. As it turned out, his son attended my mom’s preschool. He recognized my name at the crash scene and was immediately concerned. In the days that followed, he offered some additional support and provided us with information about the accident we otherwise would not have known. He left shortly after stepping into the room.

My parents and I spent several hours in the emergency room. A doctor came and examined my head which a nurse had cleaned and determined I would not need stitches. A CT-scan showed I did not have a concussion either. The time we had in that room allowed my mom and me to reflect on my accident and my relative lack of injuries. We realized just how blessed I had been, just how much God had protected me. The front and back of my car had been destroyed, but the body had held intact, protecting me. I hit no other cars, putting no one else at risk and saving me from the lifelong guilt of harming and endangering someone else. Most important was two days earlier I was pulled over for speeding and received a ticket. That ticket slowed me down. That ticket saved my life.

We realized the EMT was wrong. I was not the luckiest guy as he had said; rather, I was the most blessed.

5308

So today is an oddly reflective day. Two years ago today is the day now tattooed on my arm. It's interesting to have my physical mark coincide with the day it is commemorating. May 3rd, 2008 was such an important day. I remember it all so well, from many details of the morning track meet, to my mid-afternoon activities with friends which were supposed to be a simple drive back. I put on a play a few hours later, nearly got in a fight back stage. My coach was disrespected. Don't disrespect my coach. Well, that's not all the story behind the near fight. I went out to dinner with friends, celebrating the successful run of the play. I left for home. The day was almost over, and certainly entertaining enough by this point. The week had left me sleep deprived and stressed. Trying to deal with track, drama, homework, and my first speeding ticket had worn on me. I fell asleep while driving. I'll finish the story in another post with the narrative I wrote last year about the event.

For now, I reflect. That was the day I realized God had a plan for me. I cannot look back at that day without seeing His protecting hand. The speeding ticket from two days before may have saved my life. I see God in that. The EMT, and one of the cops were shocked I was so seemingly unhurt. I see God in that as well. God saved my life, and I believe he did it for a purpose. I already see His plan working in me and through me. He brought me to Arizona so that I could be a part of Damascus Road. He sent me to Haiti, and in a few years, I believe He's sending me to the Midwest to help begin a new Damascus Road. Beyond that, I have no idea, but I know God has a plan for me, a great plan. In fact, I am afraid. I fear His plan is greater than what I can handle, or greater than what I desire for myself. I fear His plan will ask me to give all that I possibly can give. I also have faith that God will never abandon me. He didn't abandon me on that road, He didn't abandon me in Haiti; whatever God plans for me, he will not abandon me. That is all I need to know.

The other part of my tattoo is GRACE. I actively read my Bible at the end of last summer more than I have in awhile. I read through Romans, and discovered just how beyond my understanding grace is. I cannot fathom grace; it is so great and wonderful. I thought I understood it. I thought it was simple. I was wrong. Grace is something so incredibly present in my life. I have since taken a line from Relient K's "Be My Escape" deeply to heart. "The beauty of grace is it makes life not fair." Eventually this lyric will also be etched on to my skin. It so beautifully captures the little I understand about grace. Grace is completely and absolutely undeserved gifts from God in the purest form. My accident, more importantly, my life is God's grace. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

Problems

So I have a problem. I guess it's more something I am unhappy about, but in there lies the problem. The thing that is bothering is something that very few people would feel sorry about. You see, I'm pretty certain that I am getting a B in one of my classes. I haven't had a B since 1st semester of high school, which was in band, so that's just crap. I haven't had a B in 4 years. Sure it's in Math 250, a class that just kicks asses, but I still expect A's from myself. I think about it through the semester what I anticipate receiving and account for a B or two, but I expect A's anyway. I did this last semester and I pulled it out, but now this is different. It's different expecting a B, when you can still pull out an A and exceed expectations, and knowing your getting a B. I'm probably overreacting; I just took the test this morning and it won't be graded till next week, but it's fair to assume nothing higher than a B when I didn't even have the time to attempt a question that was 15% of the test score.
Whatever, like I said, I don't expect pity for a B. It was bound to happen sometime; I just don't like it happening so soon. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

You know what this means!

Seriously, another post can only mean one thing... I have homework I'm not currently doing! As soon as I'm done with this (and by done with this is after I'm done with this and anything else I can do to procrastinate) I will start typing a paper that needs to be two pages too long. Seriously, two or pages is more than enough and four is just ridiculous.
On to other things. You know, I thought going through asking girls to dances was done after high school, not that I did that too much back then, but I was still excited for it to be done. Then Damascus Road has to go out and have a prom of their own. Here's the problem, I know who I'd like to ask, but it's not that simple. I've been told repeatedly that I can't just ask her like I would for a normal date which can be difficult enough as it is. No, I have to do something special, and that poses a whole new set of problems. I need to figure out what to do, I have to get people to help me to do it, I have to make sure she'll say yes before I put time, effort, and potentially money into it, and this means getting people to do spy work for me and that's even more of a hassle. What's wrong with just saying, "would you like to go to the dance with me?" I don't mean like a, "hey, wanna-go-dance-wit-me?" grunt, or doing it with a text, but properly asking her as I would for a regular date? Is it really that big of a deal? It's just adding unnecessary stress, and I'm not sure she'll even really appreciate it. Would it be worth it, especially if she'd say yes anyways? Will she really be as offended as Kris believe any girl would be? I know the people giving me the advice are more experienced or at least know more then me, but it's hard to want to listen to it sometimes, especially with time winding down as it is. For now, I'll just play it by ear, but I've been doing that for awhile now. Sooner or later, I'll have to actually make a plan. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

LIES!

Sorry, but I still haven't gotten around to what I promised in my last post. Maybe that's not really a lie, but whatever. Also, again I find myself in the position where I'm using my blog to procrastinate, sorry about that.
As for life, I'm still dealing with my problem where I don't know when to stop talking. I just ramble on and on about nothing, repeating myself and going in circles, more often than not digging a deeper and deeper hole with whoever I'm talking to (most often in this case it's a girl or two), not shutting up long after I should have-
"STOP TALKING, STIBRICH!!!" -David Meyer
Why thank you David, helping me learn when to stop even in my blog. I appreciate that. See though, I have a problem. Unfortunately I've been this way for a long time, so change will be difficult. On the plus side, my friends have never been quite so helpful or have the girls been so legitimately terrifying when angry (I mean this in the most complimentary way possible Kris, Andrea, and a few others). Perhaps this means that there is hope, that I may actually change. For my future wife's sake, this better mean that I can change, or for my own sake, my future wife will just have patients never before seen amongst man-kind... yeah, I better work towards the first one. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

Pre-Post

I intend to elaborate much more on this, in a later post when I have more time, and when I do, it will probably be more of an essay. I just have to spill some of my initial reactions coming back from Haiti. Many things are now foreign here in America. It's all felt so odd since I returned. The culture, I just can't understand it anymore. We complain about Government healthcare, but in Haiti, the problem is they have no government. Nothing to really help them in times of need, whereas in America, we have so much, and even at our worst are better off than many countries. I don't mean to belittle any American disasters, but it means something different when you have your own means to help yourself. New Orleans may not have received the greatest help from the American Government, but the American people were able to step up and give them the relief they need. Haiti is almost completely dependent on international aid. The people of Haiti are strong and resilient, and I love them, but they had no government or resources to rebuild and recover. Most of the aid comes internationally. New Orleans still received international help, but America is so great, we have the means to have done it all on our own. Haiti and many others have no such luxury. If the international community left Haiti to itself, it would whither. The strength of the people can only go so far. I'm not saying they needed American help and Dollars, just help and money to do what they are capable of.
Our government can take care of its people, and I won't speak out against them doing it. It isn't socialist, nor is it necessarily being done right. But they can help, and people need to understand the power and responsibility of that 'can'.
Now, I apologize. My thoughts are a underdeveloped, and what I mean is not always clear or coherent. This is merely my initial thoughts, and I plan to attack somewhat the same topic more thoroughly when I have the time. If you understand and agree, thank you, but if you don't, please wait till my next post. That should be much clearer. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

Inside jokes

Oh how I miss them. This is such a hard part about moving on to a new part of your life, all with new friends. You start back over with inside jokes. No one anymore understands about evil, soul eating pelicans, or understands why any topic involving queen of England would make me uncomfortable. That's what they said would only lead to me receiving odd looks and no one would find :):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):)as funny as I do. An emo button is meaningless, just as asking me about a coma is not funny. No one would understand why they need to take a number, currently serving 98,567,125. Umbrellas are not awkward, and rickshaws are just another mode of transportation. The time is just the time, and what does that have to do with the Game?
Everything has to start over and new jokes must be made. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Yeeeaaaaahhhhhhh buddy! Good night folks.

How this is going down.

So it seems some are unsatisfied with my lack of actually saying things in my posts. Sorry, but this is just how it's gonna be. My blog, I'll say however much or little I want in as few or many words I want (hint: it will probably be the later). Don't expect any different than what you're getting. Maybe eventually I find a direction and stick with it, but for now, I'll post whatever I feel like typing. If I have something I want to say, I'll say it, if not, I'll ramble on like I have. I'm not writing it for anyone. It's more of a public journal others can read so they can better understand who I am.
Anyway, that's that, and in other news, I need to post my list somewhere as I am already forgetting it. For anyone who stumbles upon my blog (as everyone of my follows are well aware of these lists), this is a list of my top five celebrates that I would marry, or something like that. In no particular order:
1. Kristin Kreuk
2. Abby Eliot
3. Olivia Wilde
4. Mia Wasikowska
5. Unfortunatly, I cannot remember my 5th one.
This is an ongoing list, so it will continue to change. If it does, or if I remember my last one, I'll repost it here. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

Sleep?

I sit here, at 3:38, Saturday morning. I'm tired and know I should go to bed, yet I'm not. I don't know why. I'm not doing anything. The only reason that I'm posting is because I've run out of other things to do... that's not even right. "Do" implies action. I hardly think sitting in front of a computer. clicking through web pages counts as action. Do I even have anything to say? No. Clearly not, as I have now obviously reached the point of utter meaninglessness and rambling. No, that is not true. I was at that point from the very beginning. This post is the very meaning of my blog title. This truly is endless rabble.
That is one thing. It may be that I am misusing rabble in my title. It normally refers crudely to lower classes of people, imagined to be dirty and ragged. If you look it up however, it also can mean "a disorganized or confused collection of things" and now you see that this is perfect for my blog. I like to do that: use the anterior definitions; the ones people don't primarily think of. Sometimes this backfires. My brother and sister will still make fun of me for using menagerie in a completely correct context, but it fit in with the 4th definition, not the 1st, so they believe I was wrong. I totally wasn't.
Seriously, I know you don't care. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because I have nothing to do and don't want to go to bed yet for who knows what reason. I mean, if you are even still reading this, then you have more issues than I do at this point. Seriously, I'm never going to say anything. Give up and do something productive. I shouldn't be able to bring us both down. This is ridiculous.
This is random, I know, but on a different topic I have a person or two that I an just sick of. Like, I really can't wait till summer in this particular case or two so that I can get a brake from them. This doesn't necessarily mean anything bad about them. I've felt the same way in the past about someone who is now one of my best friends. It just happens from time to time between me and someone when for whatever reason, we just annoy each other and it won't stop until we can get a brake from each other. At this point, it may prove to be nothing, or we may continue on like this. I don't know.
I'm just rambling at this point. Whatever it takes to keep going...again, seriously?!!?1?!??!1?!??2??ONE You are still reading? Come on, get a life I can't believe this. Not only have I been saying nothing in as many words as possible, but I have also mocked you and complained about something completely inane. If you are still reading this, I'm not sure we can still be friends because you clearly have issues that require professional help before you hurt somebody.
Yeah, I really should go to bed now. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

Procrastination and haircuts and surprises

Someday, maybe, I will learn, maybe. The problem is that procrastination is just much more fun than actually doing the thing you should be doing. Such as right now. Should I be posting on my blog? No, but I'd rather do this than the lab reports for physics that are due tomorrow and that I've barely started.
On another note, my head feels very light and cold. I suppose that's the result of cutting off 5 or so inches of hair. This will take getting used to, but I might as well stick to the shorter hair since it was so well received. I was a bit surprised but happy at the genuine compliments I received. One person seemed almost excited about it. Whatever, but the lesson is keep my hair this length.
So other news. I've always got along well with my parents, but they still surprise me when things go off better than expected. Case in point, as I've been figuring out housing next year, different opportunities have come up off campus. The primary one is renting from one of my friends whose parents bought them a house. Problem is, this friend is a girl. Even though we're just friends and only ever will be just friends, I was not overly confident that my parents would be okay with this. I thought up a good argument and thought I could have a chance at convincing them. I talked to them about it tonight on Skype, and... they surprisingly took very little convincing and were pretty cool with it from the get go. How about that. They trust me. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

OCD (Obviously, Clearly Delusional)

Okay, I'm a little OCD. I'm already posting again because I just don't like the look of only one post on a page. If I post again in 5 minutes, that means I don't like the look of just two posts. That's just how I am. If things don't look right, it will bother me until I do something about it. Is that picture on the wall crooked? Ugh, I'll fix it. Is that curtain caught on something? Let me get that. Wait, the balance of M&M colors are off? It all will bother me until I do something about it.

In the same way, once I come up with an unusual idea, I will get it done. That's how I figured out a technique to fill a water balloon inside of a water balloon inside of another water balloon. Sadly there are no pictures other than the one on my old phone, which is now dead (yet apparently fixable by a 16 year old).

Oh yes, another thing you should know about me. I'm easily sidetracked. Surely this will be clear throughout all of my posts. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.

My first blog

Some of my friends have encouraged me to blog... I'm sure they will come to recognize this mistake.

IMO, bloggers are people who mistakenly believe others actually care to hear what they say so because it is on the internet. I on the other hand mistakenly believe others actually care to hear what I say because they cannot awkwardly escape.

This blog will be all those things I really say (and probably shouldn't) in text form for any lucky enough not to have heard it or who wants to reread it for posterity's sake.

Will anybody actually read this? I doubt it. Will I actually keep this up? Check back in two months and you'll have your answer.

For now, I guess this all I have to say, at least on this topic. Until next time, have fun, live life, and don't die. Good night folks.