Well, the day has finally come. Tomorrow, at 3:30 pm, I get to drive my happy ass to Idaho. And, when do I arrive? About four in the morning. It's not like I'm not enthusiastic to see my family, but I'm not overly enthusiastic.

It's safe to say, that, for the first time in my life, I've thought about murdering someone. Honestly, just taking their life and paying the consequences. How much more can I, honestly, take?

See, it happened last night. I decided to go to an all-night Rave out in the boonies, or, Bumfuck Oregon, as I call it, and there ended up being a massive riot. Me, and eight of my other friends got there, and everything was fine, until about two this morning. Then, beaners showed up.

Now, I have to explain something. My family are white supremisists, and I don't consider myself racist. There's a difference between a Mexican and a Beaner. A mexican is a hard worker, who's just out to help himself and his family, not cause trouble. A beaner is someone who plays mariachi music ALL THE FUCKING TIME, thinks they're bad ass, can't shut up, and hate white people.

Now, there was a riot back in high school, between us and the beaners. needless to say, four of us got charged with aggravated assault, battery, and attempted, and they got off scott free. Why? Because it was a hate crime against the hispanics. yeah, they hated us. They threw pop, food, and one of them jumped us. What the fuck were we supposed to do?

Anyways, they showed up, and just hung out. Everything was cool, y'know? No problems, we were all having fun. Then, they cornered one of us. After we stopped a mosh pit, one of our friends wasn't breathing right. He got hit in the solar plexus pretty hard, so myself, and two of my buddies, decided to sit with him, have a cigarette, chug a beer and get back in there. He went off to piss, and they jumped him. I don't call four on one a fair fight. So, we all jumped in.

Ever seen one of those classic movies, like The Outsiders? The brawl? Fuck, perfect image of what happened. It was everyone vs the mexicans. Fifteen of us vs fourteen of them. Give or take a few guys that got knocked out early on. We fought for about half an hour before the cops showed up, and we all just ran.

I swear to god. The stupidest shit goes on. This is where racial segregation comes in nicely. African Americans are alright, I don't see a point in separating someone who has the same history as ourselves - But, beaners? Fuck, send them back. Three fourths of them aren't legal, and they take all our jobs. They introduce the worst sort of drugs.... ......

No, I won't rant. Well, I should, but I'd be hipocritical, and contridictive of myself. And, I'd look like more of a dumb ass.

In any case, my next post should come around Monday, unfortunately. I'll be too tired to do anything Sunday. My next post will contain a local LARP script me and my role playing buddies had.

She creeps, she crawls, for on my body she will sprawl.

Her fangs bite deep, penetrating tender flesh, known as my Savior, aren't you Tress?

Legs of eight match perfected hourglass, my life to slip generously fast.

Her bite will leave you moaning, her venom will leave you writhing,

all the better to feed the children teething.

Her skin of delicate black, marred by a single red,

stare within that hourglass, we're sure to find you dead.

Her words will enchant you, mesmerize and tentalize,

For no one will save you, no one will hear your cries.

She will love you, and fuck you, 'till Death do you part.

And death you will part, as she feasts upon your heart.

Well, this morning was interesting. I actually got to spend the night in the local jailhouse. Joy, oh fucking joy. It's a long story, and I'd much more post what I feel, rather then a pathetic line for sympathy, as someone told me.

At the moment, I feel like taking a shotgun to my skull. Wait, isn't that a line for sympathy? Indeed. Although, that's not what I look for. I tell people I don't feel like living in this black hole I call a life, and they all want to send me to a damn mental institution. Fuck them. They're the reason I feel this way.

I lost my father on August 27, 2002. I lost my life-long friend, Barron, on November 13th, 2001. I lost yet another friend May 25, 2003. Can we see a growing trend, or is it just me? When my father died, I didn't feel anything. I couldn't feel anything. Months before, I had told people that he had already died. I didn't want to hear them ask, "How's your father doing?" and hear myself say, "He's dying, how the fuck do you think he's doing?" My father died of the AIDS virus, and no, I do not have it. He astounded the entire Florida medical community -- They gave him one year to live. THen, another six months. Every time they told him his due date, he told them to fuck off. He smoked a carton of cigarettes a day, we all thought he'd die of lung cancer.

The night he died, I felt lost. My father was my idol, my hero, the immortal God I worshipped. My father wasn't the perfect man, or the perfect husband, as my mother will attest, but he was the perfect father. When I had problems, or when I felt depressed, he was there. I could call him, and he'd listen to me ramble for hours. Now, I don't have that.

Barron, my 'brother' as I called him, died playing a vicious game. He befriended the asshole who shot him. See, Russian Roulette should only be played in Russia, dumb fucks. When I heard he had died, not when he was shot, but fifteen minutes later, I broke. For fifteen minutes, my brother bled on the ground. And what did this guy get? 3rd Degree Involuntary Manslaughter.

They always said I was just a paranoid, disturbed teenager. Maybe I am paranoid, and maybe I am disturbed - But they haven't lived my life. I know, for a fact, I don't have it bad. I've had a good life. I had people who stood behind me all the way. I was just too stupid to realize it. And now, that I'm legally an adult, I see what I missed before. And all I can do is weep.

Ah, the first entry. It's actually funny, I've heard about this Xanga, but never knew what it was. Me, and my infinite wisdom. It's almost pathetic. Almost, but not quite.

See, I'm not exactly sure what I should post. My life? Failures? Why I make the stupidest decisions and decline to face the consequences? Who knows. Well, I suppose I could start out the simple way. I was born, I haven't grown up, and I don't plan to for some time. Eighteen years old. Such a wonderful age. Random thoughts, random thoughts being spat out now. If you're lost while reading this, I laugh. If you're not, I have to try harder then?

Well, I suppose I could start with today. Today == Shit. Yes, shit. Can I say shit? How about fuck? No, shit will do for now.

Well, I'm not much for words, am I?