Of all the things to hate in the world, with all the crimes and criminals, you hate a little green vegetable.

I've nothing good to say at all. Which means, of course, that I'm going to say it all!

I hate peas. I think they're gross.

I hate showering. I feel as though I earned my filth.

I hate naps. I think they're a waste of time.

I dislike Bryan Butters. I think he's a tool.

I hate brushing my teeth. It is so so so boring.

I hate having a job. It is too much work.

I hate when people try to be someone else. Isn't that just generic?

I don't like drugs. I think they destroy people.

I don't really like soda too much. It makes my tummy hurt.

I don't like boys. They're dumb.

I don't like musicals, and yet, I sing as though I am in one.

I don't like computers. They're no good.

I don't like dirty. Clutter, rather.

I don't like the mouse's in the Union Building. You can't scroll down.

I dislike the taste of black coffee. It is too bitter.

I can't say I enjoy being alone.

I don't like to cry. It leaves my face all wet.
I don't like saying good bye, because I don't like to cry.

I don't like reading anything other than Harry Potter.

I especially dislike homework. It is tedious.

I loathe Spanish class. Fuck Queen Rita.

I don't much care for any font other than Times New Roman.

Slide shows bother me if I didn't make them.

I don't like to be corrected. I hate that I need to be.

I am afraid of heights.

And elephants.

This guy sitting next to me is tacky. I hate that.

I don't like stereotypes. I think they're ridiculous.
I hate that I stereotype people.

I don't like politically incorrect statements.

I don't like that I don't get to decide what is politically incorrect.

I hate it when people are late. Even by just a minute.

Especially Chelsea.

I don't like being called little Dustin, but that hasn't happened for a while.

I don't like talking on the phone. Unless it is a boy.

I don't like when people are offended by the things I do.

I don't mean to offend anyone.

I don't like animal abuse, therefore I don't eat meat.

I don't like that I like cheese so much, I want to be vegan.

I don't like that I am weak.

I don't like that my head phones may or may not have crapped out on me.

I hate it when you paint a room and have to tape it off first.

I hate that I have to do my own laundry.

I don't like that I have to read almost 2 plays everynight.

I dislike that I don't own any of them.

I hate that I never read the plays I am supposed to.

I dislike lists.

And counting.

I don't like telling time with an analog clock. I get bored.

I don't like the taste of okra.

I find it ridiculous how some people can accomplish nothing.

I find it even more ridiculous how some people are such fuck ups.

I don't like adultery. I think it is disgusted.

I am attracted to very few races.

I dislike that about me...

I don't like Mac's, I'm a PC.

I don't like keanue Reeves, Nic Cage or Kristin Stewart.

I hate that they get to be famous while I go grocery shopping.

I love to have my picture taken.

And I love Broccoli.

I also love my Friends and good times.
Life is full of adventure, but no one wants to play.

I hate that.

REM stage 4

A few dreams I had a couple of nights ago stuck in my memory. Unless I'm fighting Zombies, Dinosaurs, or Zombie Dinosaurs, they don't exactly stick around for me to remember them in the morning. I usually prefer to have dreams about Harry Potter, as I am recently completely obsessed to the point of awesomeness, but the occasional inspirational dream will do.

The first, as plain as it is, I've had a little bit more trouble interpreting... It was in a bedroom, not my current or 131 bedroom, but a rather familiar (I can honestly say to the best of my knowledge I've never set foot in this room) bedroom. The walls were grey/beige lit easily by two lamps on either side of the bed. The bed, as with most adult bedrooms, was in the center of the room with the head board against the farthest wall. At the foot of the bed sat a blanket the color of blood, and the bed spread covering legs was a light brown color. The legs belonged to Taylor. Yes, that old boyfriend of mine. He was reading. His torso outside the bed spread and his arms upon it. I can only assume he was reading an Augustus Burrows novel. I walked in the room doing the thing I do every night right before bed (mind you, I don't actually have a bed routine, but in the sense of the dream, it felt as if I had done it every night for 10 years). Just having brushed my teeth, I take off my glasses. I would assume I was about to put them on my side night stand and roll into bed, but my dream ended. I cannot recall if I woke up after that or not, but I just know that it felt so real. So... Natural.

My second dream, although less... Happy (assuming you interpret the first vision as happy). I was at my parents house, for some reason, I was drawn to visit the front lawn. When I passed over the threshold of the house door, I noticed something odd. It wasn't that the sky was purple (but for all intensive purposes, it very well could have been) nor that the lawn was a sea of hats. No, what I saw was a crowd. As I drew closer I realized that the crowd was circling a car that lied, parked, beneath the oak tree.

I began to inquire why everyone was so intrigued by the vehicle when a stranger exclaimed that someone, a girl, was about to be raped. I was appalled. Why was no one doing anything? That poor girl is about to be violated and emotionally scared in front of an audience. She's going to have to live in this world knowing that she was so traumatically hurt and no one bothered to do anything about it.

Knowing that it is a horrible thing not to have hope, and that she must be completely terrified and in severe danger, I began my search for a blunt stone. My plan was to use the stone to break the window and rescue this poor girl. The moment I wielded my newly found stone to the window, I realized that there was no window. Or, at least, it had been rolled down. I was confused. Could she just not escape herself? After having paid so close attention to my new discovery, I found that I was near a group of the girls friends. They kept saying her name, Danielle. Her name was Danielle. It is such a beautiful name. Such a beautiful girl. Just to clarify, I asked one of her friends, "Her name is Danielle?" "Yes" was the quick response.

"Danielle," I said softly to the girl in the car, though she didn't react. I don't think she heard me. "Danielle," I repeated, this time followed by a quick glance from a crying, young, beautiful girl. I don't know why or how, but as soon as I had her attention, "The greatest lesson you can learn is to love, and be loved in return." The past couple of weeks this has been my moto. I of course came upon this insight while watching Moulin Rouge, this being the central theme of the film. After I said the words, Danielle stopped crying. She wiped away the tears that had been running down her face and she looked at me with the most astonishing eyes. She crawled out of the window of that car and jumped into my arms. I embraced her knowing that I just changed her life forever.

If you were to ask me what I took away from this dream, I'd come up with a mixture of answer and theory. My theory being that, while I believe that she was about to be rapped, I do not believe it was sexually. I cannot recall another person being in that car below the oak tree, so I believe that the idea of rape is more appropriate. Abuse, or improper treatment is one definition of the word. I believe that her life has been so incredibly terrible up to this point, and until now she had been blaming it on bad luck and shacking responsibility. When I came into Danielle's life, she suddenly found the courage to realize that her life is what she makes it.

The answer I'm looking for is that we have to take responsibility and stick up for ourselves. Take action and be who we are. This world will walk all over you and leave its foot print without so much as a warning. We've got to stand our ground and live. We've got to stand our ground and love.

Floating On By.

I think too much.

More importantly, I think too much of myself.

I doubt anyone else thinks so much of me, and yet, I find that people always ask for my advice. While the possibility of my ears being the closest in range is likely, I always let myself think that it is because I know best. Why?

What makes me the expert? Who the fuck am I to tell you how to live your life?

Yes, I do think that I live my life to standards that a lot of people should follow, but, as I was saying, that is just something I do. The key word was THINK. I THINK. I think too much. I think too much of myself.

Given the knowledge I have based on the experiences I've taken part in, I can tell what I know. However, I throw in my opinion on situations that I have absolutely no personal connection, empathy, or experience in. Why must I do that? I'll tell you why, but you're not going to love the answer. It is because I am always right. I can always give out the best advice while standing as a completely third party member with absolutely no personal interest in the matter. It is easy to be your guide.

It is, however, less than easy to guide myself. I have found, for the most part, who I am and who I want to be. But that isn't because I have made the decisions I would advice, but rather the opposite. Chronologically, I advise based on the decisions I've made. I know, now, how to deal with problems because I've faced them before.

I guess the only thing left to say is.... Well, prove me wrong. Or right. Or just show me that I should stay out of peoples business and just nod politely. I can nod. I am good at that.

Throw your best, life, and see how we end up.

I hear you scream it, but I want to hear you sing it.

I want to meet a boy who can sing. I want him to sing to me and I want him to sing with me. I think that having a good singing voice is such an attractive quality. He can write music for me and play it on the guitar, or uke. We'll sit around a campfire and just sing. The only care we'll have is what the next verse in the song at hand is. Thats what I want.

Tired of drowning.

It doesn't hurt. Not anymore. These are the words I keep tellimg myself. The longer I say it, the more it becomes true.

Life goes on. They were all right. It was not the end. Existance doesn't suddenly cease just because one boy is gone. Or two...

I like to think that I've become more independant these last nine months. I've taken a rather rocky approach to words of confidence, but I believe I've reached my destination just the same. I'm happy to just be me. but that won't stop me from my mission of finding us.

My expectations and reality are so completely different. That is to say that my expectations are really more like day dreams; dreams that I alone cannot make come true (my dreams involve a second half). This is becuase I'm not dreaming the proper dream; I dream of us. So far, every fish has succedded in snapping my line. That is okay, though; I hate fishing. What I am doing is just living my life on a boat (mother fucker), while trolling an invisible, sturdy line behind me, without attention. This means, If someone bites, neat; if not, neat. If no fish takes the line, at least I'm on the lake. Or in the lake...

Don't look at me.

Some times I feel like I'm a bitch. I am aware of the idea that I am an attractive person. I like to think I am more attractive than I probably am, but that is just me being the narcissist I am. Anyway, the point is, I spend time trying to look my best, as everyone does.

It used to be that I saw myself as the ugliest, biggest person in our group of friends. Now, after I've changed my body image, I feel more confident. I don't have to wear a t-shirt under all my clothes to soften the weird bumps my body had, and I am completely comfortable taking off my shirt to go swimming with my friends, now.

Chelsea and I have talked about how when we are sexy, we're not going to use our powers for evil; we'll only use them for good. This means, we're not allowed to be a bitch to ugly people, etc. Something that I do, that I've contiplated whether or not it is okay to do or not, is looking in the direction of girls, smiling, and flirting with them a little by winking. I know that I am gay. I know that I am not going to ask them out or anything, but they don't. They don't know that I'm actually not interested. As far as they know, I am just a cute boy who has taken notice of their image. The key to the concept, is I usually do it to the girls who look not as confident. To the self conscious girls who look like they worry about what other people think. Who look like they don't get very much attention. I know it is rude of me to be able to pic those girls out, but when you're not confident, it shows.

The girl that wrote the post from Six Billion Secrets could very well have been one of the girls I've given the confidence to feel beauty to. Maybe I don't actually have that effect on people....

But maybe I do.

Do not collect 200 dollars.

I can't express how hard it is for me to imagine a world outside the one we're in. I live an everyday life; I go to work, I come home, I go to sleep. Everyday. I live an ordinary enough life. I go to church on Sunday. I pray, I worship, I read and I try to stay awake. Just as any one else will do on the Lords day. I live at home, still, with my parents. I moved out once. To Europe. About a year out of high school I got called on my LDS mission to Europe. It didn't work out. I was sent home dishonorably. With the promise of returning if I straitened up, and acted according to standards. The only thing I want in life is to make my mother proud, so, without a second thought, I accepted the second chance. This could have possibly been the worst mistake I have ever made.

I am not happy. I do not look forward to my life nor my future. I don't want to return to my mission. I don't want to return to anything. I am so miserable. So very miserable. I live a life of melancholy, but that is normal enough.

I haven't dreamed in a very long time. Not because I am unable to, but because it hurts too much. I used to spend so much time in my thoughts, thinking about everything magical and beautiful. I loved escaping to my mind. I'd find that things were different. Things were perfect. I could be happy, free and loved. I know it sounds great, but bliss is so wrong. I don't deserve to be happy. I knew this, and the second I came to terms with it, I stopped dreaming. It is all for the best. Dreaming a beautiful dream and then returning to reality sent waves of pain across my heart forming a mark I have come to know as nothing. When I know that tomorrow is a simile to today, I move forward. I would like to say that I wish for yesterday, or a different tomorrow, but I don't wish either. Right now I just go.

I've heard that a man who is fifty that lives his life the same he did when he was thirty has spent twenty years waisted. He didn't learn anything. He didn't gain anything. He just kept living the life he always had. I do the same. I'll probably return to Europe. I'll probably die in my sleep. No. The sad thing is I won't.

My name is Bradley Johnson, and I dream of electric sheep.