Make Mistakes

One thing that I have come to learn is that mistakes are a good thing. You need to make mistakes in order to learn from them.

Think about it, how many times has someone told you not to do something, you ignored them, did it anyways and realized they were right all along?  It’s possible for someone to take that advice without committing the same mistake, but it’s not likely. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s perfectly alright for people to make mistakes and make them often, as long as they are not making the same repetitive ones. Those are the people who have no business breathing the same air as you and me.

No one ever comes up with a brilliant idea right off the bat. Every person you see who is successful has probably had more failure along the way than their successes. This idea was brought to light by a blog entry by Mark Cuban on his own success story. Many who seem as if “luck” is on their side is actually blessed by their determination and hard work. You don’t ace an exam by not doing your homework.

So citizens of the world, children of capitalism, make mistakes and make them often but never repeat them. You’ll be a stronger person in the end.

Name Tags

Have you ever met someone at a convention or even the waitress at your local diner and they introduced themselves to you? The more aware they are of their name tag, the more likely they will point to their own name while they are saying it.

“Hi, I’m Jenny. I’ll be your server today.” (points to name on chest)

I wish this was something people got use to. Like what they do when asking for the time.

“Do you know what time it is?” (point to wrist where watch might be)

But not only that, wearing the name tags as well. Then all of a sudden you wouldn’t have to worry about remembering a girls name at a bar while inebriated. You never have to say, “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

For both sexes this would be a distinct advantage. Especially when you are eight drinks in, and can’t remember what the naked person underneath you is named. And even if you do know, you might accidentally call out the wrong name. It sure would be an inappropriate time to ask for their name and certainly you can’t just go about screaming multiple names until you go it right.

“Oh! Jenny!(?)” (thrust) “Oh! Stacey!(?)” (thrust) “Oh! Carmen!(?)” (thrust) “Oh! Haley!(?)”

You probably would get it all wrong anyway. With the use of a name tag you can look down and scream out in climax to ensure a safe delivery every time.

Dreams

It started when I was out and met a group of girls who invited me to attend a fashion show with them. But not just attend, since this fashion show was for charity, they wanted me to be a volunteer model. I told them I would certainly think about it but because I had lots to do, I will try my hardest to be there for them.

A little background on this group of girls: while it seems that this was the first time I met them, they all seemed very familiar. They weren’t strangers. They seemed to have known me.

I woke up in the morning by the sound of my alarm only to look at it in a daze and shut it off again. As I drifted off to sleep I realized I had a few classes to attend today and that finals week was just around the corner. I managed to squeeze in as much shut eye as I could before forcing myself awake.

9:55am, class starts at 10. Not to worry, it was an 1 hour 30 minute lecture. I could spare the first few minutes as class was only 15 minutes away. I thought about foregoing my classes altogether but there were 2 classes I knew I could pass if I bunkered down and studied all night. I had no idea how I was going to pass the third class, it was on Ferrier Transforms since I haven’t ever attended that class all year. I need to get dressed.

I scrummaged around my room desperate for clean clothes when the doorbell rang. I peeked my head out down the hallway with my pants unfastened wondering if I should fully dress before answering that doorbell. Putting on the closest t-shirt I greeted the door with a smile.

Awaiting me were the 5 girls I met the night before, armed to the teeth with fashion garments and assessories. I let them in and told them I had to get ready for class. They pleaded after me that I promised to attend the fashion show with them. I had to go to class or be met with failing grades in all my classes this quarter, but who can resist the batting eyelashes and the convincing voice of a gorgeous blonde. I complied.

After deciding to ditch my classes for the promise of spending the whole day modeling and hanging out backstage I hopped in a Mercedes convertible and sped off. This wasn’t like any convertible, it somehow managed to fit all six of us comfortably, four in the backseat although it was somewhat of a squeeze. I didn’t mind. I was sandwiched between the back driver-side window and the blonde. She was wearing a short black dress, smelled of roses and her legs looked silky smooth to the touch.

I looked at her. Her eyes met mine and glanced away. The game was on.

I threw out the bait, luring her in with each tug but every time she got close she moved away begging my to recast. I couldn’t tell you who was seducing who, but I knew I was hooked. Our hands grazed for a moment. They would graze again and linger for another moment. We continued a platonic conversation, but the flirtation underneath the surface was another story being told by her body language. Our fingertips touched, I felt the electricity send a shiver down her spine. Our fingers would cross and become a full grasp, she would squeeze and hold on just a moment longer each time before she let go.

It was a dance. Our hands communicating subconsciously to each other. I brushed her hair away from her face and soon we arrived to the fashion show.

I woke up, it was 8:19am. Miraculously, after sleeping through 2 alarms, multiple snoozes, and cutting a dream short of it’s final imagination I scrambled out of bed, got dressed and drove to work, where I am now.

The Lows of Human Civilization

I’m sure some of you have seen the videos: 2 Girls 1 Cup, BME Pain Olympics, and Mr. Hands. While the world is celebrating human achievement, part of the internet world is indulging in their insatiable thirst for the metaphorical “train wreck”. Entertainment is no longer spoon-fed to you by a global media conglomerate. Entertainment is user generated by anyone in the world and has no boundaries.

I’ll give you the premise of each video and you decide if you want to watch it, you simply have to search the titles “2Girls1Cup”, “BME Pain Olympic” or “Mr. Hands” on Google to find a link to the video. Be warned, NSFW.

===Here is where you decide whether or not to keep reading, my suggestion is NOT to.===

“2Girls1Cup” is an erotic story about two girls who enjoy kissing each other, and poop in a cup.

“BME Pain Olympics” if I told you, you wouldn’t believe it unless you saw for yourself. Two guys self-circumcising but they forget to stop at the foreskin. You never thought you’d get to see that in your lifetime. Am I right?

“Mr. Hands” is a look into the world of horse sexuality. Horses will hump anything with a hole.

These videos got me thinking, what possesses these people to do this? What happened in their life that led them to the apex of their existence. These are the videos they will be remembered for the rest of eternity. The motivation for 2 Girls 1 Cup must be money, the master of all. That conversation you have had with your best friend, “Would you eat your own shit for a million dollars?” has been answered. Because when times are bad and the money is slim, eating your own shit seems like your only way out. Only you discover it’s like digging a 10-foot hole, you end up in it.

I was told BME stood for “Body Mutilation Erotica” which seemed for fitting than what it actually stands for, “Body Modification Ezine”. How do you know that self induced penectomy and castration really turns you on? What if you regret it later on? These are the questions irrational people never ask themselves. But I guess it’s the same thing for transexuals, except they have medically certified doctors complete the removal.

Lastly, Mr. Hands. Bestiality has been around since humans can fuck. So I’m sure this isn’t the first time this has happened, just the first time on film to a widespread audience. I want you to imagine a penis the size of your fist down to your elbow. Then imagine stuffing that into a hole the size of, well, your anus.

To each their own.

Seed of Knowledge

It is my goal to plant this seed everywhere I go, like a modern day Johnny Appleseed. Not only will I plant these seeds, I will collect them from others I meet along the way.

Have you ever traced your thought process backwards? Dive into your mind and realize what makes it tick and how it ticks. In the very beginning, it starts with a keyword, an idea, a conversation, and leads you through a web of information gathered by your interaction with humans and computers alike. This is how I stumbled upon TED.com, it’s an inspiration for mankind to delve into cross-discipline thinking.

I watched a talk on AIDS in Africa, but not like one you would normally see or hear. It was not about an AIDS epidemic and how we can help to stop it. It was not about how just $1 a month can bring condoms to rural communities. Instead it was a cross-discipline look at a health and medical epidemic through an economists eyes. [FLV|480p|15:46]

Watch it if you have the time, it may or may not inspire you. Keep in mind that this is not just about AIDS in Africa, this is about expanding your thinking to multiple platforms.

B.

First Post

This marks a return to blogging for me. Except this time I will remain anonymous until it no longer requires me to be so. This new blog will be an improvement from the one I had in high school. That is all.

B.