where we went wrong.

It's 10:35 PM on a Friday night, and while I could be sleeping, or leveling my character on World of Warcraft, or finishing the research paper I mentioned in my last blog, I sit here at my desk and instead decide to write for the few of you that actually read my pieces. First of all, I would like to thank those of you who do. It's really a great help to me when you reply, even when you don't have much to say. It's a great comforter for me (and any writer, I'm sure) when somebody takes the time out of their own life to read my material.

But, that's off the point I'm going to be talking about.

What I've been stuck thinking on lately is time. Time, and failure. First, I want you to try something for me. Yes, you. The one reading this blog at this very instant. Reach out, stick out your index finger, and point it at yourself. You are a guinea pig to this experiment. Now, look at the clock on your computer. Re-read this paragraph. Done? By the time you arrive back at this point, the clock has probably ticked to the next minute; that time of your life is gone. Did I waste it? Not necessarily, I'm just trying to prove a point. Now, look at your clock again, but this time stare at it. Come back to me when the clock has ticked again.

.. That took considerably longer, didn't it? Well, that's what we all feel, anyways. No matter the situation, whether it be waiting for a class to end, or a good friend to come over, or for a movie to start: time always comes to a dead halt when we acknowledge it's presence. We all, as humans, have little time on this earth. Or, that's how it seems, anyways. In the constant hustle of work, school, family life, or whatever else you may be doing, years turn into seconds and disappear like dust in the wind. However, what if we were to have a clock in front of us for our whole life? Out of the corner of our eye, if we were to stare at a clock every waking moment, what would become of us?

Would we live forever?

Of course not. I'm not stupid. I'm trying to put forth a metaphor for you, here. Our time is short on this spic of sand, and we're unable to escape it. You have to take what you need and accept what you get, because you won't get anything more. Today, I was thinking to myself: “Have I made more successes or failures in my lifetime?” I guarantee you, the answer to this question is always failures. Our time alive is built upon failures. Failures, missed opportunities, mistakes, unseen solutions. They qualify us for HUMANITY. Without failure, we would not improve. Without improvement, you will not grow closer to that wonderful standard we all dub “perfect.” If you don't need improvement, you must be perfect. Trust me on this, you're not.

I've beat myself up a lot over the failures I've made. In particular, this year. I was drum major of the band, for those of you who don't know, and that puts a lot of responsibilities on my back. I have to: know how to conduct, be able to keep an internal beat, know when and where the band is supposed to be moving, look good doing all of this, and on top of it all, keep a band of 80 or so kids from talking. Oh, the FAILURES I've made. Now, I'll cut myself some slack; it's not an easy job. The band of Arnold High is known for its rowdiness, each individual member is a faucet of energy that is very hard to shut off, but I remember my first real big failure this year.

Our first football game, we had yet to perfect our show. We were playing and marching three songs, and only playing the fourth one whilst standing in place. I had explicit instructions on every part, and I had them down to the bone. However, I was given a new instruction not long before we were to start: The flags would need extra time to pick up different flags after the third song. I would have to wait for them before I started the fourth. I was very nervous that night; it was both our first football game and my first time as drum major. Everybody would be watching me. The first song went smoothly enough, with minor tempo and sonority problems that are typical with an unfinished show. I kept my eyes closed, so I don't know what the marching portion looked like. After the third song, (our fast song), I was tired.

This is when I made the mistake.

Forgetting completely about the flags, I started the count off for the next song. As I was counting off, my eyes trailed down the thick white lines of the field, meeting directly with the bewildered eyes of one of the flag girls. A string of my heart broke. How could I have forgotten this? Even furthering my error, the shock of this initial mistake caused me to forget the beat pattern, leaving me to flap my arms about in the most wild and undiscerning manner. I had destroyed the last song, and I have never let myself live that down.

I almost cried after that event, I was so furious. From that point on, however, I went on a spree to improving my own abilities. I do not want your sympathy; I'm glad it happened. At the last band trip we went to, a trip to the national BCS championship game, we had a competition. Our band did poorly in the running, but I was proud of my results: I received a trophy (a very large one, at that) for best drum major. I'd done something I'd thought I was incapable of, all because of that mistake I made at our very first football game. Am I making this point clear enough?

We have so little time to live, we don't need to waste it watching to clock or dwelling on our mistakes. I promise you, it's a counteractive method. The clock IS going sixty beats per minute, and your mistakes cannot be undone. Instead, look forward. Look away from the clock and to the road that you are taking to your inevitable end. What twists and turns lie ahead of you? What roadblocks must you overcome? How can you prepare? THIS is called improvement. Take your mistakes and turn them from a negative to a positive, and you will therefore turn your life from a negative to a positive.

Now I sound like some sort of self-help guru. Anyways, that's all I've got right now. Thanks for reading, please be sure to reply to me. I read every single comment and I love them all dearly. Oh, by the way, it's 11:10 now. See? I lost all that time writing because I wasn't staring at the clock. Did I “lose” time, though? I more so see it as “invested” time. That seems a lot better to me, anyhow.

this is the world that we live in.

IMPORTANT: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE A BABY.

I've been writing, lately. In particular, about the conundrum of misplaced evils. Ed Gein (for those of you who do not know him) was one of the craziest bxtches in history, basically. Ever seen Psycho? Silence of the Lambs? The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? The main protagonists of all of those movies (Norman Bates, Jame Gumb, and Leatherface, respectively) are ALL based after this crazy mother effer.

Still don't have enough past knowledge to know just how crazy this guy was? I'll assume you haven't seen those movies. When they finally arrested good ol' Edward Theodore Gein, they found in his house (if you could call it that, I'd call it more a playhouse of the macabre):

Human skulls mounted upon the four corner posts of his bed.
Human skulls apparently used as bowls. Mm, tasty.
Shrunken heads.
Skin fashioned into a lampshade and the upholstery of a recliner.
Skin off the face of the local tavern owner.
A "mammary vest" crafted from a woman's torso.
A window shade fashioned from human lips.
A box of salted genitalia. Salted?
Four noses.
A heart disputedly found in a frying pan.
Socks made out of flesh.
A refrigerator full of organs.

Wow, this guy was one big sicko, wasn't he? That's only about half the stuff they found. He could only approximate that he had fifteen bodies in his house when they arrested him; he could've had more. I'm on a tangent, though. What was I talking about.. misplaced evil? What does that even mean? Well, it's what our wonderful America has inveitably turned into, whether you'll admit it or not. No, I'm not a communist. No, I don't hate this country. I'm glad I live here, I know a lot of other places are much worse; but hear me out.

Whether you're a strict parent or a loose parent: you will affect your children's growth. Whether you were a bully at school or just chose not to be friends with someone because you didn't make friends anyways: you will affect someone. Whether you made a sexual advance at somebody as part of a dare or did it because you genuinely wanted a sexual fix: you WILL affect someone. THIS is what brought about the insanity of Ed Gein. Now, I'm not blaming this all on other people. Ed was born "weird." He had a growth over one eye and was prone to talking to himself. A lot of people are born with growths, and a lot of people talk to themselves, though. They get help, sometimes they don't even need it. Sometimes they figure out their problems on their own and fix it. However, things were different for Ed, just like they're different for a lot of people in America.

Ed (and his brother) had a drunk for a father and a strict Lutheran for a mother (George and Augusta). His father, though he was the prototypical drunk father, was nothing Ed couldn't handle. His MOTHER, on the other hand, gave him too much motherly affection. She warned Ed against the villainies of women, alcohol, friends, and society. He was so "protected" by his mother, that he soon became a recluse before he was even alone in the house. Once his family died (Funny story; his brother died in an unexplained brush fire near their farm where Ed 'lost sight' of him. Ed was the last to see him alive, after he had insulted their mother..) he was completely and utterly alone in the world.

Now, tell me you haven't heard THAT before.

Of course, not all of the people who are raised like this go crazy and stuff, but society as we know it has become nothing more than vast radicals. There are those who believe that our children should be raised on their own terms, that rules will only hold down their potential. Okay, HOW could this be right!? If there are no rules, there is no order. If there is no order, there is no security. If there's no security, there's A LOT OF DEAD KIDS. How could anybody think it's safe to let America's generations run around with scissors in their hands?

Then, there are those who believe that to make sure everyone is raised right, there should be a rule for everything; and I mean everything. "Be home by 6," "Do your homework before you do anything," "Can't date a girl unless we know her." THESE all make sense. Good, family founded rules that keep people safe. But try this on for size: "No leaving the house unless I'm with you," "Do not do ANYTHING without my permission," "You cannot go to visit anybody at their house, and they cannot come here." Sound a little bit extreme? I'm telling you, there are people with these rules. Hell, there are thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands of parents who think this is the way to raise a child.

Why am I ranting about this? Well, I was trying to write a research paper about Ed Gein and this is what came up. Our world is degrading into irrational extremes; unneeded radicals that are only hurting people, both mentally and physically. We need reform, both in the home and in the "outside world." Keep kids safe, but don't censor them. Let them have fun, but not too much fun. Otherwise, we might end up with another Plainfield Slasher like good ol' weird Eddy. Oh, and I'm not suggesting any of the parents who read this are bad parents. I'm sure you're perfect. Just take a look to examine yourselves. Is this right, for the people I'm influencing?

You know, I doubt any parents will read this anyways. I just realized Brent is the only person I've told about this blog.

Well, here's to you, Brent.

THIS is going to be where it all happens.

I can feel the creative flow fluctuating fluently, fighting fully into my filthy cranium.

It's just I can't get it out yet. This is just a test, after all.