quick karma, then bed.

I've just realized that my terrible acne present in my college years is a direct result of karma, back from Middle School, when I told anyone who would listen that Chris Bogle's face looked like a mountain range.  Sorry Chris.  If it makes you feel any better, I'm suffering for it now.  The moral of this story is that things you say come back to haunt you.  Usually in the form of something negative or detrimental, like a plague of red pustules sprouting relentlessly on your face (or mine).  In this case, I'm fucked.  Part of me believes in karma, and the other part really hopes it doesn't exist.  Goodnight.  Je t'aime.

who needs LOLCATS when you have LOLGAYS?

Thank you , Gabe.  You made my night.

my mind. consider it blown.

My reclusive roommate just informed me that his TOPS has been dropped, he's taking 21 hours, he has no money, and his aunt is dying of breast cancer, and that he doesn't want to feel alienated from his roommates, and he's sorry if he's been coming off as an asshole.  Also, he was sobbing.  My mind.  Consider it blown.

here goes

Well, I've done my best.  That's a lie, I studied with my iPod on next to the fountain in the Quad.  How the hell was I supposed to do anything  listening to Ida Maria?  Next to a fountain, no less?!  I reviewed most of the chapter on cinematography, but not a terrible amount more.  I should really not be so surprised every time I fail something.  Again, I ask you (whoever you are reading this bosh), when did I get like this?  Graduated 3rd in my class in high school with a 4.25 GPA.  Now I have two D's, a C, and a B.  High school was easy.  But even last semester, I did alright.  Guess I'm just having my "party boy" semester, as a good friend of mine pointed out, as she caught me write in the middle of blogging in my plaid shirt with my sunglasses on in the middle of the Quad next to the fountain.  Hey, she thought it was cute, at least.  

Also, cute guys keep being around.  Damn them.  And their cuteness.  And their straightness.  This is the part where I stop trying to control things I can. . . Or at least, I try.

"Oh my God!  You think I'm in control!

Oh my God!  You think it's all for fun!"

- Ida Maria

when in doubt, sit around and don't do anything about it.

Hello, all.  Currently, I am sitting in Middleton Library on LSU's lovely campus, on a lovely day, with lovely sunshine and breezes... studying for a four chapter Film & Media Arts test at 3.  Oh wait, I'm not even doing that!  Because, ladies and gents, blogging is more important.  Ha.  Ha ha.  Hahahaha.  Ok, I'm done with that.

But really, this is how my life goes these days.  I put something off, assure myself that at the last minute, I'll come through, and then fail miserably to do so.  I just very sincerely hope that this doesn't become a recurring problem.  I think this semester was just bad for me.  Like, toxic, or something.  Anyway, besides this, I have precious little to talk about, disregarding my lack of initiative in reference to actually asking a boy out, the absence of any gusto in my life whatsoever (where has my enthusiasm gone?), and the easy way I slip in and out of love with every (straight) guy I meet (Tedjakeadambrandon Smith).  I swear to God, spend a week with an unavailable, unattainable someone in the Canadian wilderness or talking for a couple of hours at a party. . . I know it can't really be love, but then, I've never had real love, have I?  A string of attempts at normalcy (girlfriends) that, while somewhat entertaining for a given amount of time, ended with me unsatisfied and alone.  Oh, gag, here I go.  For being a gay guy, it's rather difficult for me to tell which way some guys swing.  That could possibly be because I'm too hopeful, and want the majority of straight guys to be gay simply because they're the ones who're attractive (gay guys suck. . . get your mind out of the gutter).  But who's to say that even if I met a nice gay guy who I was actually attracted to, I would ever ask him out?  Because when it comes down to it, I'm afraid.  Of lots of things, really.  Tornadoes, failure, but more relevant than those, rejection.  Oh my God, am I afraid of rejection.  So much that I'm afraid to ask a regular in the cafe where I work, who I know is gay, out for coffee (or in for coffee, depending on whether we'd want to leave the building, seeing as my job is to serve coffee).  I know that he's gay, I'm quite sure he knows I'm gay, but something is keeping me from making that move.  He's fucking adorable, if not a bit older (four years, too much?), he's clever, likes to read, and is Irish.  I mean, COME ON.  Seriously.  Fuck, well, this has been fun, but I should probably actually study. . . Perhaps a change in scenery. . . I'm sure I shall update soon.  To put a little Imogen Heap in you're lives, "I feel a weakness coming on."  Listen to her song "The Walk", and I'm going to go study.  Peace.

concerning the changing of my blog's title

It occurred to me when trying to Google my blog to see if anything relevant came that "The State of Confusion" isn't terribly original.  Now, I don't know how good this new one is, but at least I came up with it.  It does, however, do a rather good job of describing me without any details, so I think I like it.  Anyway, considering no one is actually reading this, I'm not sure why I felt is was so urgent to get this explanation typed.  Well, goodnight.

ah, the pressures of blogging

I've spent the past hour and a half, maybe, trying to think of appropriate names and links and URLs and what have you for this blog to maybe have it taken seriously.  Now that I've got it made, I'm quite sure I don't like much of what I came up with, seeing as half of it's recycled garble, and the other half is partially altered recycled garble.  And now that I'm attempting my first blog, here I am, devoid of anything terribly witty or important to say.  Whoops!  Guess it wasn't so important after all, was it?  Well, now that I've got this, I suppose I'll try writing in it as often as I can, regardless of who will actually read it (I anticipate no one).  

Let's get started then.  Some things you might need to know about me:

• I am a 19-year-old college Freshman at LSU, majoring in Creative Writing, minoring in Film & Media Arts.
• I am a young gay man looking for companionship in Southern Louisiana (That wasn't supposed to sound as much like a personal ad as it did).
• My friends are my family, and, generally, my family are my friends.
• I am an artist, in many degrees.  I love to draw, paint, write, etc.  I want to be a film maker.
• I work at a Barnes & Noble.
• I love music, movies, and literature.  Music is like morphine on somedays, like weed on some, or like booze on others.  The right songs mixed with the right moods can either pick me up or spiral me down.  Either way, I can't not listen.
• I hate college.  I hate politics.  I hate a lot of things, hiccoughs being high on the list.
• I would be a bad father.  Good thing I don't plan on reproducing.
• If you read my blog, all these things and more will become apparent.

I think that this has been a successful first blogging.  Hopefully something will prompt more posts, but until then, goodnight.