I like to write, and sometimes what I write is good for class. But the majority of outside-of-class things I write is usually very silly and make some of my friends laugh and others cry because another abomination was introduced to the virtual world.

Basically this is a product of me being silly and unable to sleep one night.

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The Land of Temporal Steves

There was a land with many Steves. They were all Steves but, of course, not all the same Steves at once. One Steve could be today Steve, another one tomorrow Steve, and some one-minute- or one-second-later Steves. But there were never altogether a one exact Steve from a one exact time. There weren’t maybe Steves or not Steves either because they were all Steves. There could be not-so-Steve because no one really knows who they are the entire time, and neither did Steve.

Although they were all Steves there wasn’t just one single Steve - that would be silly. There were many Steves all living different Steve lives all at once. There was a Steve who was the postman, Steve the firefighter, and other Steves who were chefs and teachers and carnival fortune tellers and neighborhood serial killers. There was a Steve who kept cats and a Steve who was veterinary Steve and liked dogs because his dog from his childhood left a lasting impression on him. The dog’s name wasn’t Steve. It was Bob. There was also another Steve who became a veterinarian because his tortoise died, and another one halfway across the land who had pet crawfish. There were very many unique Steves all at once from a different time and a different life, but all of them lived very generally very Steve lives.

Steve wore clothes that were orange, and he had an appreciation for blue jeans. He, and every other Steve, wore orange clothes and blue jeans so much that there wasn’t much any other type or color of clothing. There were outlet stores and designer stores and dollar stores that sold Steve orange shirts and Steve blue jeans for all shapes and sizes and ages of Steves. The fashion was distinctly very, very Steve. The Steve orange clothes and Steve blue jeans were bought and sold with currency that didn’t have a Steve on it, because Steve was decidedly many things but he wasn’t president or the ruler of the world. That would be President Steve, who was decidedly president, but he’d be damned of you thought he was any other Steve. But any Steve could be president if he were elected by other Steves, so in the end any Steve could still be the president, except maybe for serial killer Steve, but that’s only if everyone knew who he was.

Sometimes a Steve would like another Steve enough that they would marry and beget more child Steves. And their names were always Steves. But no one really gets mixed up in the hospital because Steves were generally very careful at keeping time. A Steve would have three clocks in their bedroom and a dozen watches and very calibrated identity cards in case one Steve wanted to pass for another. Things did get a little tricky there, when you wanted to tell the difference between then Steve and one-nanosecond-later Steve to find out who killed one-year-ago Steve in Steve’s house. But Steves usually get by because they were very good at keeping time. Young Steves all went to school to learn about how to be better Steves, unless some Steve’s parents, Steve and Steve, decide to homeschool them. It didn’t matter really because they were all in good Steve hands.

The land that had lots of Steve’s was very intriguing that Steve decided to make a profit out of it by doing what every other entrepreneur would do when they find an intriguing place: make it into a tourist attraction. Then everyone else who was not Steve, and perhaps some Steves as well, could come and look at the intriguing land of Steves, and see how they carry out their every day very Steve lives with their very Steve houses and very Steve cars and Steve children, Steve, Steve and other Steves. Tourists got a kick out of seeing Steve and one-second-later Steve or one-second-before Steve, not that the Steves knew why. But it made good money so Steve wasn’t complaining. But some other Steves were annoyed by the tourists and their rubbish and their threatening of the native and prized wildlife, such as Steve’s warblers and Steve’s snails. They decided to form groups and make departments and official posts, like the Secretary for Tourists Evaluation, Verification, and Entrance, STEVE. The post was held by Steve. So it all worked out in the end.

There it is. That insatiable need to put your opinions on the net. For everyone to see. Because that’s what it’s for, isn’t it? Splash your thoughts onto the screen so it may be splashed on others’ screens and be read and commented on and remain there for all eternity. Arrangements of 26 letters and punctuation. 

So what if you don’t have opinions? Or you do, but don’t want to share it. It’s different, silly. Having opinions and having an opinion you want to share with everyone is not the same. For the latter, it is a need to just say something, even if you don’t really want to say anything. That’s why you get things with no substance. That’s maybe why you get ridiculous news like how some celebrity cries on the Yahoo front page. 

Then maybe you have a vitriolic post. Because you want to say it, but can’t say it because you don’t want to say it out loud, and therefore think you can’t. Oh but writing it online, it’s okay. Because it’s just writing, isn’t it? No one is going to find it, won’t they? It’s a way to tell people without telling them. It’s also quite stupid, but people are stupid whether they like it or not, so there. 

There are nicer posts of fandom. Fan posts. Links. Links to articles and pictures and videos or music that feature something you like or are a fan of. Something you want to share with the world. Then whatever site you are on analyzes the things you link and the things you click and spam you with advertisements to entice you to buy things related to your fandom. 

What about the philosophical posts? Profound one-liners you might have thought up and be impressed with, or heard someone say and was impressed. Or quotes by dead and famous people. Posts telling people your mindset or goals in life. That’s nice. And it’s in writing so hopefully you get to look back at it and remember that you have a new mindset or goal in life.

Status posts. Posts that tell everyone you’ve just bombed your exam or stubbed your toe or ate the best fruit in the world (oh food of the gods!) or how you feel bored and maybe your friends can entertain you. Digitally. Posts that go ‘bored *insert emoticon* *unhappy face unhappy face unhappy face*’ or ‘die!!!11!oneone!!!’. Erm. Yeah. Posts.

Or blog posts. Online diaries or something. Some are fun to read and some are beautiful. Some are…. blogposts. Er. Yeah. Blogposts. Just leave it at that.

I’m going to blog here. I’m going to write and write until I’m happy with what I can do. But that will never happen, because no one is really ever happy with what they have achieved, since everything is halfway and never there. So it works, in a sense, to help you improve, but not to achieve satisfaction. Satisfaction is fleeting. So are skills. And life.

Thus is my philosophy; there might not be a point in life, but since you are here, forces yet incomprehensible have so far allowed for your continued existence, so you might as well use that time to do something productive. I won’t preach and I won’t tell you to do ‘good’, whatever that’s supposed to mean, and I won’t tell you to love and enjoy. Rather, think of how you’d want to be remembered, and go from there. Unless you are a hermit in the middle of a forest with no one to interact with, you are bound (even more so in this time and in this age) to rub shoulders with strangers and acquaintances. You’re going to make an impact, small or not. It doesn’t work if you don’t care about the carnage you leave in your wake. It doesn’t work if you don’t care what others think and what you did to them. It’s up to you, really.

So, hello. 

doctorwho:

Keep Calm and Watch BBC*

(*America)

(via shaddicted)

fuckyeahdoctorwho:

A Doctor Who tee design by Adho1982

For sale on Redbubble and available for voting on Qwertee

- submitted by adho1982.

Butterflies I drew for a friend of mine. Dedication scrawled at the bottom, but it was sincere nonetheless. 

Still has no title. Hur hur hur. 

(via bookspaperscissors)

So I don’t know what to do with this tumblr things, but apparently I can put pictures.

Here are some birds I drew. Hur hur hur. 

How do I put a title? 

(via napapaprika)