But the truth is I just haven't had any inspiration, and nobody wants to read something that is uninspiring. That is, unless it is so utterly uninspiring that one is too dumbfounded to be bored. In that case, I have some truly uninspiring troubles to lay on the table for you all to inspect and contemplate at your leisure.
Uninspiring Tale Numero Uno: Infidelity. That's uninspiring, right? So, the short (and extremely vague) version is that I came across the knowledge that a friend of mine was, to put it simply, helping another person cheat. By cheat, I don't mean like on a test; I mean cheat on another person. Now, I know the other two party members, but then I came to the conundrum of when is it right for an outside party member (a.k.a., me) to inform the individual being cheated on of their partner's infidelity? (Improper English, I know. Technically, it should be his or her partner's infidelity, but for the sake of hiding identities, give me a little slack.) Should I inform that person, or should I not? Should I come down on the person's significant, cheating other, or not? What does it take for the situation to begin including outside party members in its tangled web? Never? When the actions of the cheaters go too, for lack of a better term, far? When can they be classified at "too far"? You see the dilemma I was having. In the end, I chose to speak to the person I was closest to, the one assisting in the cheating. I made my point, "cheating is wrong, your decisions are just going to hurt everyone involved, this won't have a fairy-tale ending, like you're imagining, this is not a movie, it's real life, etc., etc."
Eventually, the two deceiving party members came clean to the one being cheated on, but tensions are still running thick.
Do not mistake my sharing this as trying to make an example out of my friends, or share their secret with the world, or whatever. My point in telling this was to make sense of my own thoughts and decisions.
There's a quote that I found while scrolling through the Facebook news feed that pretty much sums up the fact why I write. It goes something like this:
Writers write down what they want to tell you because they don't know how to say it out loud.
I just didn't know how to express my feelings out loud. And it was kind of nibbling on the edges of my brain, which can cause a person to go crazy.
Now, on to more troubling. . . troubles. I am officially sick for home. Homesick. I want to go home, now. I'm tired of school; I'm tired of painting and drawing; I'm tired of spending more time in the art studio, by myself, than anywhere else. My bed is the most neglected little being; it only gets to cuddle with me for about 6-7 hours, sometimes 8, if it's lucky. The water here is disgusting. People are far noisier than usual. I miss my turtles. And my parents. Okay, I worded that wrong. I miss my parents the most, then my turtles. My daddy tells me they're growing like weeds; the bigger one can barely fit on the floating platform now. The little one has been the same size since I got him: about the size of a fifty-cent piece. But, he's finally growing. And I'm stuck here, missing it. I want well-water. I want to feed my turtles. I want to pet my cats with my feet, and use my giant dog as a foot rest while I sit around and do absolutely nothing. I miss having time to do nothing. I want to go home. Immediately. I have freshmanitis. (That's like senioritis, except I'm not a senior). Also, I want warm weather. It rained, and then snowed yesterday, so today, everything was coated with a sheet of ice. I nearly fell three times on my way to class. Right now, the sun is out, turning the ground to mud, which is much more acceptable than snow, but just as slippery. And worse to fall down in; mud isn't very forgiving on clothing.
Besides the cold weather ruining my day, I can't have Monster energy drinks anymore. I have recently found that the ginseng in it has the same effect on me that it does on my dad: it makes us unbelievably cranky. After drinking a Monster, I snarl at everyone who speaks to me, and snarl worse when no one snarls back. Since the point of an energy drink is to give me energy to be productive, it kind of defeats the purpose. I end up channeling all of that energy into rage, which isn't helpful when it comes to productivity. So I have half a case of Monster in my closet that I can't drink, because it turns me into a giant green monster. Ha, get it? I drink green Monster? Which turns me into a green monster? No, not funny? See, this is what college does to you; for some unknown reason, you end up using a lot of puns. Even worse, you begin to think the puns are funny. They're not.
I think I am done rambling for the day. I'm going to go cuddle up with my beloved bed (Tanner, you're still my #1 beloved, I promise) and watch some TV, which has also been neglected. But, I will also be productive (Monster not included) and do my Psychology assignment that is due Friday. Do I get points for not procrastinating? Give me thy points, so that I may exchange thee points for gas in order to make thee journey back to my dearest homeland. . .
I almost tried brushing my teeth with my razor this morning, because I accidentally grabbed it instead of my toothbrush. Some days, one should not venture from beneath the sheets; 'tis too dangerous for the rest of the world. Today was one of those days.
Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies and gentlemen.
This is Maximum
Sunshine, signing off. Αντίο και ο Θεός
ταχύτητας.
