"Free Write of Random Thoughts"

There I was. I was seated in the school computer lab beside my friend and his girl. What did I decide to do but to write about nothing in particular? It’s been some time since I’ve free written and I suppose this doesn’t even have to make sense. I like pancakes. See, nobody came to stop me from expressing myself. Nobody, I say! So here’s the quandary. In ten days I will be twenty-one years of age. I do not drink. I do not intend on drinking. I wonder why bother. Who invented alcohol anyway? I should check Wikipedia, unreliable as is. Speaking of unreliable, my poor friend waited over an hour for a delivery of chicken wings because the poor bastard’s car broke down on the other side of campus. Now how does one’s car break down and he not call his employer to inform him of the situation? This is why my state of unemployment infuriates me. People like this stranger who break their car and don’t call their boss to give a heads up keep their job. I can’t even get my foot in the door. Everyone wants experience, but nobody is willing to give it. It’s a catch twenty-two, which happens to be one more than how many years I’ve spent on this plane of existence mulling over nonsense like this. I just took a moment to correct the last sentence because I created a fragment accidentally. I only corrected it because that stupid green line annoys the shit out of me. Ah, so I was talking about nonsense. Oddly I feel as if I’m more insane in my sanity than I ever was when I was insane. That sounds insane right? Last year when I was morbidly depressed, at least the things I thought about made some degree of sense. Just tonight I fantasized about dressing up as a computer virus and taking a sledgehammer to every computer in the lab. That doesn’t really sound like something a sane person would do. Matter of fact, I’m going to amend the first sentence so that it doesn’t say the name of where I am. It might be incriminating, or some such noise. There, now they can’t trace me. Although I suppose they could if they really wanted to. I’m not especially worried though. After all they can barely fix a computer let alone track a sociopath. I always rather liked that word, sociopath. It doesn’t in the least bit sound as menacing as it should. It just sounds like “society” and “path” got together, fell in love, and had a baby whose meaning denotes a path on which people socialize. It doesn’t sound like a word that would describe someone with something inherently askew in their head. Then again, what do I know? All my learning has taught me one thing. I don’t know anything. I pretend to know. I act as if I know. Sometimes I even convince myself that I know. But what is knowing beyond an illusion anyway? Oh right, that movie with Nicholas Cage. Was that Nicholas Cage? I can’t remember. I don’t really care either way, I didn’t go see it. I rarely see movies. I often buy DVDs though. Counterintuitive when you think about it. On the other hand I tend to buy on impulse from time to time. It can’t be helped. Speaking of helping, a girl I was interested in seemed, from her posts on AIM, to be in distress. I offer to help and she stops talking to me. What? That doesn’t make sense? Good, it didn’t to me either. Women never made sense. They still don’t. I’ve decided I don’t like how many contractions I’m using. I used three in that sentence alone. It’s not really a problem, I just find it funny. Poor Data in Star Trek can’t even use contractions. That would be a funny way of teasing him I think. Just use tons of contractions for no reason. Mess with him a little bit. Maybe Geordi has already done it a few times. I think that’s how he spells his name…I should check Wikipedia for that too. What a strange site Wikipedia is. It bases its whole existence on others. I just put in a contraction in the wrong place, my first typo of the evening. Pretty good considering I was at over seven hundred words before I did the four in this one sentence and the previous one. It is ten o’ clock though. Maybe I’m tired. It’s certainly possible. I was up at seven, no I thought about setting my alarm to seven and set it to eight thirty instead. My memory is planning tricks on me. Meanwhile spellcheck has decided that not only is it not a word, but apparently the previous sentence has a grammatical error. I wish I cared. Presently I’m content recording nonsense. Next to me, they were playing a game in which they infect the entire globe with some disease they create. I find it rather cheerful. That was sarcasm. I consider myself a sarcasm savant. I use it as a coping mechanism in times of strife. I even use it for entertainment when I’m not playing video games or cards or chatting or doing other things that constitute general nerdiness, dorkiness, or geekiness. And fuck you spellcheck, those are words. I think. However I don’t care. So sue me. Originally I typed “eat me” there and I found that to be a little graphic for something one would type to a computer. I find it very disturbing that I’m concerned about the computer’s feelings. Maybe I am insane. I’m pretty sure I am. They say the definition of insanity is repeating the same action over and over and expecting different results. That rather describes my luck with women. I’ve had two girlfriends. Both left me to date friends of mine. Isn’t that some sort of unwritten rule or something? Never mind the countless rejections. I actually just realized that for the first time, I can’t remember them all. How sad is that? Actually, that’s probably not sad, just normal. Hey I eclipsed one thousand words! This is much easier than writing a Civ paper and I’m not correcting that computer, get over it. Geez, this thing is like a nag or something. Not that it’s a horse but you know what I mean. Well, I’ve grown bored of this. I’m just going to save it, e-mail it to myself and then send it to some of my friends for a laugh or two. It’s been fun.