Jan lays down and wrestles in her sleep / Moonlight spills on comic books / And superstars in magazines / An old friend calls and tells us where to meet / Her plane takes off from Baltimore / And touches down on Bourbon Street

We sit outside and argue all night long / About a god we've never seen / But never fails to side with me / Sunday comes and all the papers say / Ma Teresa's joined the mob / And happy with her full time job

Am I alive or thoughts that drift away? / Does summer come for everyone? / Can humans do as prophets say? / And if I die before I learn to speak / Can money pay for all the days I lived awake / But half asleep?

A life is time, they teach us growing up / The seconds ticking killed us all / A million years before the fall / You ride the waves and don't ask where they go / You swim like lions through the crest / And bathe yourself on zebra flesh

Bowling for Columbine

is a great documentary. I don't need to tell you that, because you've probably heard it from hundreds of people more open minded than yourself, those willing to put aside what they think of Michael Moore, or what they think of anyone who stands up for what they believe in, and watch it. Those of you who still haven't seen it because of those reasons, I feel sorry for you.

Anyway, maybe in an effort to get some of you to see it, I only really have one thing to say about it. Watching the special features, you get to see Moore lecture and explain his views in interviews and the like, and he really is a very passionate and perhaps even extremist speaker. I can understand why some people would be afraid of seeing the movie, if only for fear of it trying to really pound some idea into your head like he seems to do in his speeches.

The really great thing about Bowling for Columbine is that when watching the movie you never get a feeling that he's bullshitting, or trying too hard to convince of us something. There is no sign of the Michael Moore that exists on disk two of the DVD set anywhere during the movie. I need to watch it a second time, but I'm sure that there is not even one occurrence of Michael raising his voice like he does when he talks about topics important to him.

Bowling for Columbine is a documentary far removed from the "extremist" view point of Michael Moore. Some people might not agree with me, but I know that I love the movie and not Michael Moore when he gets out of hand.

Woman + H2 =

Stupidity. (But I didn't really have to give you the answer, did I?)

Well this is most interesting,

Good Ol' Arnie. Course bashing someone based on info that could apply to anyone seems a little childish, but this is from the smoking gun after all.

This whole two hour gap thing

has got to go. I don't mind it that much, just I've run out of things to do. I left early this morning and sat in the library for about an hour or more doing all my readings for the next week of COMM 105, and even delved into the readings belonging to the week after that. Probably nothing wrong with reading ahead.

COMM 105 is "Human Values in the Mass Media" and the texts so far seem to be desperate to reach some sort of solution to destroying all forms of stereotyping but also appraising it as something neccisary to use in every day life. Without stereotyping we'd be so concerned with individuality that our heads would explode. It seems to me that there is no solution to the problem, because no matter what you do you're going to offend someone.

Pay too little attention to minoritys, they cry fowl. Pay too much attention to minorities, they cry fowl. Pay too much or too little attention to anyone, and there will always be someone off of the side complaining about it. How can you fix something like that? My main concern with anything regarding racism or stereotyping is that it's easy to see how the minorities would want to keep it around. It gives them something to complain about. You disolve all stereotypes and minorities, and no one gets special treatment. You're breeding stereotyping by making funds specializing disadvantaged minorities as if "majorities" aren't disadvantaged as well. Why not just have funds for disadvantaged "individuals" and not label them the disadvantaged hispanic/negro/asian fund? I guess it would just be too easy.

Sorry, went off on a rant. I could be writing a short one page paper for both my Photoshop and Networking classes but I'd rather sit here and bitch about stereotyping. You can actually hear my head splitting open and the contents spilling across campus if you listen carefully.

My time problem is probably already resolved since I can come in here when I like, it seems, and sit around doing nothing on the computer. This, too, will get boring very fast, but I'll manage. There will always be more reading to do, I'm sure.

I feel much better now.

I just had to pull my head out of my ass and give up. I'm stuck in this class and I have to deal now. It'll be alright, maybe I'll learn something. I have no choice.

BTW, I don't want a Mac anymore. I can't get the mouse to move any faster and it bugs the crap out of me. I cannot use a mouse that I have to pick up my wrist and move it to scan across the screen. Retarded, completely retarded. I'll stick with a PC and Windows, I've decided. As pretty as Macs are, it's not worth it. These are Dual 1Ghz and I feel like I'm on a system slower than my P3 450 as far as app opening speed and moving around the screen. (BTW they're running 10.2 with a gig of ram as well).

Much hate for Mac again, now. I'm actually going to ask my teacher how much work we're going to be doing HERE because I'd much rather be doing it all at home on my PC.

Wow, this is sweet,

my Photoshop class is on Dual 1Ghz Mac G4s, with 17in LCD screens, I think. I like Macs even more now, this shit runs smooth as, uh, shit.

Well, that went well,

only had to park eighteen miles away from campus in an unpaved dirt parking lot. I'm just happy I've been running at the gym for an hour or two a night or else I would be dying right now. Can't do much about it, I guess. At least I'm not poor Greg who has to park two miles away, all the way down a hill, and then hike back up it. He's got an (assuming) extra hundred pounds over me to carry as well. I should quit my bitching.

WaMu was no problem. I took out twenty dollars. I'll have to wait to munch on something until after all my classes regardless of the fact that I wouldn't move my car from that dirt space if I had a gun to my head for fear of having to park even further away. I'm just looking forward to more boredom today. Network+ is right now, should be interesting at least, I am no network guru despite many twelve hour nights fixing the home network.

(Fixing is not the right term considering I would just sit there screwing with settings until I finally got so frustrated I'd walk away, and by the time I came back, it would be working. Magic!)

Communication is next, but I'm not sure which class I signed up for and honestly I'm frightened. Then, later tonight, Photoshop! Hurrah! It promises to me more boring and mind numbing than HTML yesterday. Hopefully the professor will go on about San Diego's Mexican history, as well, to entertain me.

Second day of college,

still no money. Going to run to WaMu in about forty minutes to find out if I can set my PIN number on my card even before I've received the one they are slow to send me in the mail. If not, fuck 'em, I'll kill them all.

To tell you more about college... Astronomy was cool. No learning yet, but I think I will find it very interesting. When he said, "I've only got about two minutes left..." I found myself thinking, "Wow! That's it? That was two hours of hell? Felt like ten!" The teacher is cool, really cool considering that the HTML instructor makes me wanna pound my brains out. He came in and didn't even know what class this one, assumed it was some different one, until this girl from Kenya told him this is 137 and not 105. He was baffled. He spent about half of the hour I was in there talking about San Diego's Mexican history and how California fell under the control of the US, etc. The other half an hour was spent explaining how Notepad wont let you save .htm files so you should use Notepad+ instead. Luckily, I got to leave early since it was so terribly boring.

Greg told me yesterday, in reference to college, "It's not so bad, it's the wait [in between classes] that sucks." He's right. I had two hours to blow in between my classes. Two hours. I didn't think it would suck until I realized that I was hungry, thirsty, and I was craving a cigarette for the first time since I quit. After asking four people in a row for a cigarette, and each one saying, "Sorry man, this is/gave away my last one," I realized that asking people for cigarettes on campus is like asking a five hundred pound person to mow the lawn. It's just not gonna happen.

I got so bored I drove down the street to Fry's so I could play with their Macs. Holy crap, the new iPods that are just one big touch screen are incredible. They're just about eighteen thousand times cooler than the ones with the scroll wheels. Very nice. I'll also never understand how LCD screens for PCs can be the absolute suck and Mac ones can look as clear as my three thousand pound Trinitron, but I guess that can be qualified as one of the mysteries of the universe. (That's another thing, the HTML professor actually said in reply to a woman who said she doesn't own a computer, "Oh, thank god, owning no computer is better than owning a Mac." and spent a combined fifteen minutes crying foul of Apple. Even when I was very anti-Apple, I was never that bad. Very misinformed, he was).

After Fry's I managed to hunt down enough change in my car to buy a Mountain Dew for $1.25. That extra twenty-five cents makes me feel raped whenever I buy a soda out of a machine. Then I sat there, drinking it, trying not to look like I wanted to blow my brains out.

Looking at all the people walking by made me feel a lot more attractive and intelligent. I don't know how San Diego could attract the most unattractive hordes of youth, but it's possible and true. I was hoping for some hot chicks to oogle but, no, not a single cute chick. They either have that, "I suck ten thousand dicks a night after a beer for fun" look, which is pretty nasty, or the "I would suck ten thousand dicks, but I'm too busy fucking them for money" look, which is pretty nasty as well. The guys are just as bad. The ones who are not so geeky they can't stop drooling on themselves are well built and tan, but they walk around with this brainless look on their faces, sizing everything up like it's a piece of meat. The surfer/skater looking guys are the only attractive people because they look like they have better things to be doing than humping some random bitch or making fun of someone.

The sad thing is, even the "dark" people, the emo and goths, look like that. Usually I expect to spot at least one really cute goth/emo chick a day, but not this time. The few goth/emo people I spotted either had that drooling look or the sucking dick look. To say it was very disappointing would be a severe understatement. At least it makes me feel better about myself, right? (Everyone who knows me and thinks me unattractive is trying to stop their mind from boggling over how someone could be more unattractive than me).

My astronomy teacher did say something I had to laugh at in relation to Mars and Earth, but it seems to apply to a lot of things; "It's a periodic thing, sometimes we get close and sometimes we pull away."

One of the Perks of this HTML class

is that I can sit here and write from inside it. I'm still assuming this will teach me nothing, and the majority of the people here seem to be the same as I am. A student a row back is showing another the back end to his site, now that is stuff that could fly completely over my head. Backends? Bah. Notepad and an FTP program is all I need.

I should set up eMule so I can control it remotely from here, just as a novelty.

Update: My brain is melting this is so boring. "This is notepad! It makes text files!"

Now like a bird

She flew away
To chase her dream
Of books and praise
Still I miss her
Yeah I miss her
Since she's gone

At JFK
Who played the fool?
Self pity sick
Jet fuel perfume
Still I miss her
Yeah I miss her
Since she's gone

Girl I want to die with you
In each other's arms
We'll drown in flame

If this time were the last time
Could I hold you all life long?
Since this time is the last time
Can I hold you all night long?

Lay your head down, for the last time

Hey KLM
AT+T
The UK post system
Do you still love me?
Still I miss her
Yeah I miss her
Since she's gone

HAHAHA KILL KILL KILL!!!

(This goes out to the few of you who have yet to live but act like you could do it better than anyone else you know). (On a related note, deep thought for the day: Emo kiddies are just goths who are afraid to be judged by the clothes they wear, so in reality they're just preppies who want to act out their inner pain by wearing darker colors and maybe a leather bracelet or two). (By the way, that means you're all losers with no balls). (Oh, yeah, and get the fuck out of my sight).

The fact that I have not gone completely crazy and ran out to buy myself a pack of cigarettes even though I had a wallet full of money up til earlier today is a testament to my pure will power. (And ability to construct sentences that never end!) Quiting cold turkey drives most people mad. Me? I just tell myself it's a dirty dirty habit, and I have dirtier habits to attend to.

Neville Ebin died in Bermuda when a taxi knocked him off his moped.

A year later his brother was killed on the same moped in the same street by the same taxi driven by the same man and carrying the same passenger. And, best of all, in Massachusetts in 1965 Roger Lausier, aged four, was saved from drowning by a woman called Alice Blaise. Nine years later Roger saw a man drowning on the same beach, dived in and saved him. He was Alice Blaise's husband.

(Read Full Article Here)

My last day as a free man.

Tomorrow, for the first time ever in my life, I'm going to start something I'll probably actually finish. Ready? Set? Go. (Edited the menu, obviously. Removed the eMule sig since I can't get connected to eMule and it's really pissing me off).

In the dark bathed in Cathode ray blue
Miss Red Hook of 1922
Weeping silently for the pain of others
Every night a tearful rosary
A victim of the curse of empathy
Her reward for compassion is to suffer

My shortcomings I know caused her grief
Still she loves me, this I can't believe!
Responding not with anger but a prayer
Heaven's just Southwest of Cobble Hill
True, I am the son of an Angel
Maternally, not one woman compares

If you fall, I will catch you
When you're lost, I'll be there soon
Far away, but of course near
When you're sad , I'm always here

Thank you for saving me from myself
Your compassion became it's own hell
Unequivocably beautiful inside and out
Without a doubt

Nettie, no need to cry
Let me wipe those tear drops from your eyes

(Type O Negative - Nettie)

Playing around with Outlook

a bit, and used the nifty Calendar to figure out my exact class schedule. To prevent boredom, I will post it here for all to see!

Monday
12:30pm to 1:50pm - Astronomy
(2 hour 10 minute gap)
4:00pm to 5:50pm - HTML Basics

Tuesday
11:00am to 1:20pm - Networking Fundamentals
(40 minute gap)
2:00pm to 3:20pm - Communications
(2 hour 40 minute gap)
6:00pm to 8:50pm - Photoshop

Wednesday
(Same as Monday)

Thursday
(Same as Tuesday)

Say it with me, now! "Ooh... Ahh..."

Fiddling with the site,

as usual. I had to reset up eMule and in the process I retooled my OnlineSig for it so all you uncaring people can see a bunch of information you wont understand.

What's next? Possibly my webcam, but I am not so sure. Don't get too excited, if it does go up it will be like the webcams of old... abstract images of everything except me. Much hatred for CoffeeCup Webcam 3.5 for only allowing you to save the last five images on the websever and not some configurable number. Very stupid, and definitely no reason for it.

I have a very small

area of control over my emotional stability. Usually I have a good grip on it. It's like the handle to a very large pan. Although I am not holding the pan itself in place, the handle is attached in the right place and will hold the pan where I put it.

There are many situations in which the weight in the pan will become so heavy that the handle can't control it, it will break, pan and contents flinging themselves as quickly as possible to the floor.

As of late my pan has become severely full. The weight is stressing the connection to the handle every day, but I have kept it strong. The only way I can do this is by pretending that the pan isn't really so heavy by keeping myself so occupied I forget about some of the contents. Or concentrating on a few at a time lessens the burden.

Today, someone has the pleasure of reminding me of every single problem filling my pan to the brim. The funny thing about the contents of this pan is when you look at them, or pay any attention to them, they swell in size. So, when you talk to me about them, forcing me to remember every single one, they all quickly double in size.

So, remember, the handle is just barely strong enough to contain the contents even while most of them are their normal size. Just imagine what it's like when every single one of those contents doubles in size.

You can hear the ***SNAP*** for miles. The contents spread themselves evenly in all directions, a flash flood leaving carnage in it's wake.

Basically, and this is the short-winded version, I am not occustomed to stress. In fact, it's entirely new to me, especially at this level. My way of dealing with it is by taking it one step at a time and not worrying about the problems I can't fix yet, those whose solutions are far down the road, way out of my reach.

By reminding me of every single one of my problems, repeating the millions of possible terrible outcomes that I've already thought of repeatedly, you are asking for that handle to break. What I do from there has recently been a lot of crying, and strong desire to run in whatever direction will carry me far away from here. I don't like crying, and I certainly don't like feeling like I'm losing control over my desire to flee like mad, because it feels so perfect, so right.

I'm afraid at some point I wont be able to resist and I will just take off in whatever direction. I know, that just like suicide, it's something I'd never be able to do, which makes the feeling that much worse.

Most of all, I feel trapped. Like I'm being buried alive. Being clostrophobic makes this feeling ten times worse since I can imaging myself being trapped under six feet of dirt, unable to get out.

Just, please, really, I've thought of everything eight times over. I've cried enough. I know nothing will ever work itself out in my favor. This isn't fantasy land, I'm fucked. So, what I'm saying is, don't walk up to me and say,

"Hey, Brad, you're fucked! You have any idea how fucked you are? Holy shit, you're fucked! Man, you sure can't get out of this one! Wow! I never thought someone could be such a fuck up!" Woohoo!"

Or, even worse,

"So, what do you think is going to happen?"

Well, that has got to mean something.

Looks like I forgot to back up the folder on my desktop containing every design I have ever made throughout the span of time. This means, it's gone. Very gone. So gone, it's just like, "Dude, it's gone, let it go." Shit. I'm surprised I'm not crushed, I'm just a bit bummed. Luckily, I don't think I lost anything too important.

Well, here I am,

and I'm already missing Whittier a tiny bit. I'm keeping myself occupied by installing and, soon, learning Windows 2000 instead of XP. I figured that since I usually beat XP down until it's basically 2000, I might as well use 2000 and get a little more speed out of the deal. I'll give you all a big update onto why I'm here soon enough for the few of you who don't know.

Well, this definitely sucks.

In the process of moving to Escondido, I packed up my computer, and all my electronic devices, (DVD player, Xbox, Gamecube, etc), and now I have asbolutely nothing to do... Except actual real work like packing further, or watching boring regular TV. Smooth move, Brad. I'll go lay in bed and stare at the wall instead of doing something productive, I think.

Statement of Official Hatred of Electronics Boutique.

I officially hate Electronics Boutique and all the retarded bastards who run the company in any shape or form. That means cashiers, stockers, computer data entry workers, CEOs and share holders. You all suck.

Sunday, I went in and I bought Baldur's Gate 2 used for fourteen dollars. Monday, I found out that on Tuesday a Baldur's Gate 2 Collection for PC would be released containing BG2, the BG2 Expansion, bonus disks, and a soundtrack CD, priced at twenty dollars. Tuesday, I called the Electronics Boutique down here in Escondido, and they said they had one in store, but cheaper than the list price. So, I drove down there, and alas, they didn't really have it, but he said they would be getting the collection in on Wednesday, which did me no good because I'd be leaving that night, but I'd be back today, AKA Thursday. I returned the used copy of BG2, and pre-bought the collection, or pre-ordered it, either way I payed for it in full with the intention of picking it up today, already two days late from release date.

Today, I go in to pick it up and the guy informs me that they don't have it. In fact, they wont have it until the eighteenth. I wont be here on the eighteenth. Heck, I probably wont be here on the nineteenth. I want to bash their faces in. The guy behind the counter is a lot like me, in which he shifts the blames on to coworkers and then apologizes on their behalf and then apologizes for himself, because he "feels really bad." Yeah, if you feel so bad, give me a $5 used game for free or something, or some sort of rebate, or a coupon, or a blow job, something.

Even worse, when I pre-bought the collection, I bought Icewind Dale (brand new $14.99, very nice) but since I thought I'd be getting the collection today, I gave Icewind Dale to Greg last night so he could enjoy it while I was enjoying Baldur's Gate 2. I am, yet again, without a game to play. Now, in my free time, I get to stare at my pants and pick my nose instead of enjoying some Baldur's Gatey Goodness. I feel like killing right now.

Going over to Susan's house,

we had a big fight the other night, but I've had some time to think about it, and I want to tell her I'm sorry. My horoscope said it was a good time to go crawling back. I read hers, she's a pisces, and it said, today is your big day... to forgive.

She can get pretty moody, but then so can I. I'm just hoping she read the paper this morning. I've never been good at holding a grudge, and let's face it, it's just not worth it, just like that old couple arguing inside the Queen Bee, the sick florescent light shimmering on their skin. (Eels)

Packing is tough,

this whole decided what is useless and should be stored and what is useful and should be brought with me is difficult. When it comes down to it, necessities seem to be wearables, like the ball gag, or toiletries, like my full sized diapers. Oh, and my computer, but that goes without saying. Everything else is junk. Like, today I am bringing one of the boxes of action figures. Why? I'm not sure, but I do know I cannot be without them. How can I live without the ability to gaze down lovingly at Ash, or Vash?

Nearly my full collection of DVDs is coming with me today as well. It's all I managed to pack, most of my DVDs, and action figures. There are still mountains of stuff around me, but I look at it all and my natural extinct is to pack it all and take it with me, even though I know it's all junk and could probably be thrown out.

Today will be the first time I drive to Escondido by myself. I burned, and hunted down, another good ten or twelve CDRs of music that could possibly entertain me, including the scores to Halo and Einhander. I will be picking up my pre-bought copy of the Baldur's Gate 2 Collection, which I am very happy about. I will tell you all about it, later.

I've got a new

Amazon Wishlist.

The lack of intelligence in the common driver is amazing.

I'm not saying I'm a perfect driver and all that, but I've come way too close to getting hit by people exhibiting a complete lack of understanding about driving.

The other day, this trashy woman decided that, while she was driving in the lane right next to me, nose to nose, it would be a great idea to get into my lane. I only panicked when I realized I was heading for the curb to get out of her way. Luckily, my Penis has good breaks.

Today, in a two lane left turn, I was on the outside lane, and this man was on the inside lane. For anyone who lives in Norwalk, it's turning from Firestone onto Imperial, its a very long turn. Anyway, this man decided it was a really good idea to do something already highly illegal, and change from his lane into my lane at the apex of the turn, regardless of whether or not I was driving along-side him at the time.

It's just... Jesus, it's not hard to look over your shoulder when you're changing lanes. I've gotten so much in the habit that I look even when I'm positive there isn't another driver on the road for miles. I've had my share of close calls from not looking, but I can claim decency and when the other people honked at me from near hitting them, I got back into my own lane instead of just expecting them to get out of my way.

Do me a favor, if you have the great privilege of driving, try caring about the safety of others around you, instead of just your own personal convenience.

I finally got so fed up

with MT and my server that I've done the unthinkable and switched back to Blogger after nearly two years of not using it. This interface is nice. I dig it. I had a nice design cooked up for MT to use, and it can't be converted to Blogger, because it seems they will never allow you to do interesting things with your date formatting. Stupid bastards. I don't even know why I use the internet anymore

Frequently Asked Questions!

Last Updated: 06/02/04
Here's some questions I get asked frequently. OK, I lied, I never get asked questions, but I couldn't help myself and had to give in to the urge to have a post on my site just like this! So, here goes...

* Who are you?
My name is Brad Root.

* You were also known as Stuyvesant Parker, right?
Yeah, I was. I was also meaner and funnier then, too. Or at least that's what people keep telling me. I was fifteen years old when I was Stuyvesant Parker, cool, huh?

* Where do you live? Can I stalk you?
I live in Chula Vista, California. If you want to kidnap me and hold me for ransom, too bad, but if you wanna hang out or meet me or something, instant message me or something.

* How can I contact you?
Check out the contact information in the about box to the right.

* Why do you run such a shitty website?
To quote the magnificent Neo: "...Because I choose to."

* What happened to all the other people who wrote on here?
They've pretty much all moved on in life. I hear from Julia Smith every now and then, she's into bondage S&M clubs and sends me pictures sometimes. Ariel Welsh, aka Alli of AlliCam fame, is going to college in Northern California, I think. Ana Coen got married, moved to North Carolina, got divorced, and is back in Florida somewhere. Alfred Turner is of course still here, though he never writes. You can catch him in the chatter box under the alias "Greg". What a boring alias for Alfred. Those are the ones most people should remember...

Others would be... Matt Sharp has turned into a drugged out psychopath who seems to be going to college(s?) somewhere in the whole of the United States. He emails me sometimes to tell me how big of a loser I am, or something. Aida Clone... well, who the fuck knows. Tomathan Bonjoc is crying about how horrible his life is over at some other website. Johnny Hodges is going to college. Adrian Adams is floating around somewhere as well. Dan Crum is at Asleep (The only EB writer ever besides me to use their real name). Gershwin Maxwell is, of course, Jerwin.

Wow, I never realized so many people posted on EB. I'm sure there has to be someone I've forgotten, but I doubt it.

* What kind of music do you listen to?
Here's a list of stuff of artists I currently have on my computer and would consider artists I love.

A Perfect Circle, Aphex Twin, Ben Folds Five, Blue Man Group, Brian Vander Ark, Bruce Springsteen, Burden Brothers, Butthole Surfers, David Bowie, David Usher, Eels, Elastica, Elliott Smith, Eve 6, Eve's Plum, Failure, Faith No More, Fantomas, Frank Black, Genesis, Gomez, Grandaddy, Harvey Danger, Green Day, Kronos Quartet, Laika, Local H, Moist, Nick Lowe, Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, Paul Weller, Pearl Jam, Peter Gabriel, Pixies, Presidents of the United States of America, Project Pitchfork, Queens of the Stone Age, Radiohead, Ride, Simian, Skinny Puppy, Soul Coughing, Space, Sublime, System of a Down, Tenacious D, The Beatles, The Beta Band, The Dandy Warhols, The Jam, The Smashing Pumpkins, The Verve Pipe, Toadies, Tom Petty, Tomahawk, Tool, Type O Negative, VAST, Wire

You can check out my Audioscrobbler Profile as well to see what I've been listening to recently.

* How about movies/tv?
This is where I wish I had a list of all the DVDs I own. Only TV show I watch purposefully is Angel since Buffy is over with. Can't part ways with Spike, can I? In the movie department, some of my all time faves are: Donnie Darko, Rushmore, Royal Tenenbaums, Punch-Drunk Love, Limbo, The Boondock Saints, Magnolia, etc, etc.

* I heard you got your girlfriend pregnant?
Avery Sophia Root was born on March 15th 2004 to proud parents Brad Root and Cynthia T. That's all I'm going to say about that.

Fiction:

He finally ran out of gas. Without looking at where he was going, he knows he finally reached his destination. He packs a backpack with the few things he'll need: a bottle of water, a coil of nylon rope, and a serrated blade. He throws it across his back, sorting his arms through the loops, and starts off in a direction.

He walks for hours, the cold wind flushing his cheeks a bright red. He reaches a tree adequate for his purposes, and looks up at it. He struggles with himself, not knowing if he should cry or not, but unable to push the tears out once a decision is made. He unpacks his bag, slips the knife into his right pant pocket, and climbs the tree with the coil of rope threaded through his belt.

He shimmies out onto a branch large enough to support his weight. He unwraps the rope and wraps it several times around the branch, making multiple knots in the process. He never really learned how to make a proper knot for any purpose, so he tries many kinds.

He straddles the branch for several minutes, staring up and trying to make out patterns in the bits of stars he can see. While tying up a loop in the other end of the rope, he thinks about everything he will be leaving behind. Everything that moved him here comes flooding in, and more sure of himself than ever he slides the loop over his head and around his neck.

He thinks, for a minute, of nothing. He braces himself, and tightens his neck for the fall. He slides himself off, scraping his elbow in the process. He thinks, holy shit, as the rope tightens around his neck and his body is thrashed about like a rag doll. The pressure is immense and he never quite thought about what that final drop would be like until now.

He is hanging there, choking. He tries to swallow but fails. He can't breathe. For him, this is becoming a most unendurable experience, but his will his strong. He starts to think about everything he's going to leave behind. Everything that he will not get to do. He forgets about what led him here. He envisions himself reaching for the knife in his pocket and cutting himself free, living life with renewed vigor. That's what he brought the knife for anyway.

He reaches for the knife in his pocket. He's starting to feel dizzy, and his neck is hurting pretty badly, but he concentrates. He pulls the knife out with his right hand, left hand struggling to move over and unfold the blade. His right hand twitches before his left can get a hold on it. The blade slips from his grip and he looks down to spot it disappearing into the leaves below.

Frantically now, he summons the last bit of strength in his arms, reaching up to grasp the rope above him. He can't get a handle on it, his fingers sliding uselessly over the material. He can't concentrate on it, everything is spinning.

He watches his hands lose the battle. He see his arms fall uselessly to his sides. He watches his body twitch spasmodically before falling limp in front of him. He looks to his right, the night sky stretching out before him. He looks to his left, more of the same. Forward, the branches of a tree, his body hanging from one of them so particularly.

He thought the end would be something like this. He also had some sort of idea about what would happen next, but he hoped he was wrong. He moves himself down until he's only about an inch above the ground. He can see his backpack leaning up against the tree.

To his right, a male voice injects, "You've done a bad thing."

He turns, and looks at the hazy figure. It's obviously a person, but consumed in a swirling haze that obscures all details. He knows speaking is pointless, but he says, "I know," regardless.

The man continues, "You know what happens next, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I do," he replies. After that, closing his eyes would be needless indulgence, since the world drains away in a similar manner anyway.

Five hundred miles away from there, Janeane Leigh Haysbert is born to proud parents Laurie Anne and Douglas Vann Haysbert. She will grow up, living a normal childhood. During college one of her closest friends will kill themselves for what appears to be no reason at all. She will be deeply moved by this, unable to comprehend why, but continue on anyway. Late in life, after a failed marriage, she will try to kill herself with sleeping pills. She'll wake up in the hospital, her two children sitting by her bed, and continue living from that day on as if nothing happened, despite the fact that no one will let her forget that something did.