The Most Un-Serious Post Ever

I don’t care what colour you are. I don’t care where you’re from. I don’t care what you do for a living. I don’t care what class you are, how you dress, what you smoke or drink or who you know or whom you’ve fucked.

I hate you all. I hate every last living, breathing, snot and feces producing, promiscuously copulating, celebrity obsessed, opinionated one of you. From right here in Orlando right around the planet and back, coast to coast, nationwide and internationally. Every. Single. Last. One. Of. You.

Fuck love. Fuck your insipid grasping at some abstract concept of chemical imbalances and reasonless actions, fumbling around in the crowd trying to find some cinematic supposition for real human interaction. Fuck lust, too. Fuck you all, from the lowlife dirtbags that think dropping trou and waving the little soldier in a sloppy arc is a pick-up line to the sniveling of the desperate ‘nice guys’ who never get the girl due to a total lack of testosterone grown stones. Fuck you all, from the crazy, under dressed sluts that judge a persons character by the price of their shirt, right down to the fat, flabby chicks that think personality is enough.

Fuck you drivers, for thinking that a yellow light is a sign that says ’step on the gas’. Fuck you wheelmen and women that think it’s okay to sit in a left hand turn in the middle of morning traffic, even though there is a protected left in the intersections before and after where you need to make your turn. Fuck you too cyclists – you’re not exempt from the traffic laws just because your peddling, you miserable spandex covered neon reflective fucks. Fuck you too, pedestrians. Use the fucking crosswalk if you don’t want to get hit, and use it before the little countdown clock says ‘3′. You don’t have enough goddamn time to lope across four lanes of traffic.

Fuck you chick on your cellphone. Fuck you attitude packed minimum-wager that makes my coffee. Fuck you cops that spend all their time handing out speeding tickets. Fuck you douche bag doing ten over the limit in the passing lane on the highway. Fuck you lady using exact change at the counter at the grocery store. Fuck you kids having a conversation in the doorway. And fuck you also for not getting the fuck out of your designated handicapped seat when a pregnant or elderly person gets on the fucking bus.

Fuck taxes. Fuck welfare. Fuck the whole selfish, over politicized and party driven government system. I’m sick and fucking tired of policies and new laws with seven hundred bylaws that nobody but you and your cabinet reads. Fuck you councilors and your stupid ‘district improvement’ plans. Fuck you unions, for asking for so much and giving nothing more that what you already give. Fuck the whole process that allows people who are supposed to be working for us work for interests that only benefit the next campaign. Fuck your short-sightedness, your rush to the bandwagons, and your incessant arguing over fuck all. Fuck the parties, fuck the conventions, and fuck your campaigns. Do some real fucking work for a change.

Fuck you bottles of water. You’re water. You’re not worth two fucking dollars.
Fuck you trendsetters, fuck you fashionistas. Fuck your little dogs and and your idiotic outfits. Fuck your high heels in the snow. Fuck your five dollar coffees and your fifteen dollar veggie burgers. Fuck your health kick, your diet or your fucking new interest in kickboxing or sushi.

Fuck your culture. Fuck your race. Fuck your sense of entitlement. Fuck your sense of uniqueness. Fuck you all for the belief that you have something unique and interesting to contribute. Fuck you for filling the internet with your useless garbage. Fuck your blogs, your wikis, your forums. Fuck your name calling. And most of all, fuck whatever you believe. It’s all wrong. Fuck it.

Fuck your complaints. Fuck your addictions. Fuck your dependencies. Fuck your pain. Fuck your tears. Fuck selling whatever it is you sell. Fuck your manipulation of others. Fuck movies. Fuck fucking. Fuck everything you own. Fuck your allergies. Fuck your stupid commons sense. Fuck your spelling and fuck your lack of education, or your ignorance, whatever is applicable.

I don’t give a fuck. Shut the fuck up and just get on with it.

Do you feel?

Writing this on “real paper” with a “real pen” again. I thought I’d forget the gist by Orlando, it’s already faded here in Frankfurt. If I was going to decribe Norway, well, it’d be a mixed emotion. For the first half of the taxi ride, it was filled with sorrow and reminicing about past times but as I came further away from my home. I realized I’m starting anew, granted I’m starting anew in the USA. But still, the feeling hit me harder than ever. New beginnings, new digs, new friends and all my worldy posessions locked into a suitcase, a roller bag and a backpack. Just that. It’s Kerouac-esque in my opinion. But I think music is needed convey the feeling so press play below.

Now onto some Nemington-style observations that I love making around this globe of ours. I’d like to pose a question, have any of you ever sat there and noticed that airports are the perfect representation of how the world should be? Minus the passport controls and bathrooms too disgusting for a rat to live in. People from all corners of the world interact and they’re even helpful. Weird, eh? For example, the flight from Stavanger was overbooked by around 5 people. Right after the announcement five people came up to the desk and offered up their seats for a later flight which would take them through Denmark too. There wasn’t any monetary compsenation, just a longer flight. They accepted it. Hell, I even feel at home in an airport. I give directions, give up seats, help people with their luggage if they look to heavy. I mean, of course there are going to be those horrible tourists who don’t do anything. But genuinely, there’s good in all mankind.

Here’s the MYAM usual song clip for today.

And just a little piece of advice. If you’re bloody overweight, please take care of who your fat ass/stomach is suffocating to death while putting your damn 30 kg bag into the overhead compartments, kay? We got that? You sure? Cause if not. I’m going to tie a snickers to a stick and run around with it. Just to make you fucking skinny again.

And the last thing in this post.
You three. Del, Filipa and Mythos.
I mean it, the last posts. They almost brought me to tears.
I genuinely <3 you three.

Count these tears and kill these fears…

Well, honestly, I feel I’m disturbed. Disturbed deep down. Now I might seem to you as your average teenage angerfilled person with a nice side. But I truly feel that there’s something wrong with me deep down. Now, honestly, I’ve lied. I’ve lied my whole life. I’ve lied so much George Bush would be embarrassed by me. To you, the internet people though. I don’t see why. It might be cause I can mainly dismiss most of you as unreal, but I don’t. I feel a deeper connection with people through words and images than I’d ever do through voice.

Granted, you might not feel the same way. But let me explain, in real interaction, I feel like I’m faking my way through everything. Every phrase and every smile. I guess you’ll all say I’m emo now.

I’ll go deeper down then, I’ve never really had a father figure, my parents were divorced back when I was 3-4. So I had sporratic encounters with my father, which mostly were filled with disdain for my mother. Now I lived with my mother, who smothered me and basically pampered me. Which I admit was great but also has left me with hardly any knowledge of the real world. I’ve had some serious shit happen to me in the past years. Honestly, I’ve never been this filled with emotion since, well, I can’t remember a time recently. It must be back in the glory days.

Usually I’d dismiss this feeling and just go back to being Happy-go-lucky Nemi. But fuck it, you guys take the time out to read this blog so I’m sharing it with you whether you decide to skip it or not. So what made me write this post? Well basically being found out about my lies and having to face them. I realize I have a horrible stance against life. I’m lazy. I admit it. I hardly clean, I hardly take care of myself. I’m a terrible cleaner and all that. Well that would lead you back to the mother thing. Now I’m not trying to blame this on her or any of the sort. I realize I have a massive problem and I admit it. I’m a terrible person honestly. The only thing I can think of that saves me is my ability to fake emotions. I don’t know if any of this makes real sense but I’ll tread forward nevertheless.

Now, Angie, I’m sorry for what I did to you. Look, I know I’m a terrible person in that regard. I don’t know what else to say really. I know we would’ve worked out just fine. I’m just…well, I’m just a bastard. I admit it. I loved you and I honestly think I still do but I just can’t. And right now, I can’t see anyone in my future or anything of that sort.

Speaking of the future, I don’t know if any of you have had that feeling. The feeling of uncertainty, like there’s nothing left for you to do. I’m not saying I’m considering suicide. Not at all honestly. I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. It seems like a coward’s way out. It’s just, I wouldn’t know how to explain it. When I was younger, I could kind of see my future pan out. And it usually followed the general path. Now I see nothingness, just this massive black hole, basically I believe I fear the future. I hate it. And honestly, I have a low self esteem. I never feel good about myself. I feel awkward in all social encounters.

I’m really going all out here aren’t I? Well, the best time to write is during the emotion. And well, I’m well and deep in this emotion.

“I guess this is growing up” as the song goes. Well if this is growing up. I don’t like it. Not one bit. If people tell you though, “Oh, grow up you!” Well, it’s not like I can snap my fingers and just be all grown up. It’s a process, it might be a long process or a short process. It seems mine is a long process. A long drawn out process, kind of like this post. Which I’ll end now. I just don’t feel like writing anymore honestly. I’d just like to say something to my blog, even if it’s an inanimate object in a unreal space. You’re like a good friend and good friend I can confide in. <3. And too all you who read this, if you call me Emo. Well fuck you. I’ve got issues like any real human being. It’s not like I’m about to cut myself. I wouldn’t sink that low.

Just light the match and run

Well, I guess I should update you on the Visa. Since the header said USA or Bust.

I think I’ll start from the beginning of Friday.
First of all, I didn’t sleep at all. Meaning that I’d be up for more than 24 hours. Not a smart move on my part, but it’s a habit of mine not to sleep before travelling. So, I hyped up on around my body weight in coffee. Which was awesome. Now, the flight and such went completely fine. Nice food on the plane and such. When I got to Oslo. It was 30 minutes early. So I had time to bugger around. But I like to be places ahead of time. So I ended up in front of the Embassy at opening times. Only to be send away because “Bags were not allowed” which meant I had to walk 2 km back to the station and dump my bag in a locker which coincidentally you didn’t have to pay by the hour. But rather for the day. So I did that, seeing that it was still early and the line was nonexistant. I come back to a short line. And get in around 9 am. That’s fine. So I walk up to the lady who handles the visas. I’ve got everything I need. But then I’m told I need to pay 700 kr on top of the 130 dollars I’ve already paid to the US Goverment, greedy people you are. Guess what? I dumped all my cash at the station in my bag. So I have to walk back, again. Great, eh? I do it with the utmost hesitancy and almost give up on going to the US. I come back and I find a hellaciously long line. Almost as long as the line at Brixton Academy for Paramore. So I’m out there in the sun. Sweating and in a foul mood. I eventually get in. Where everything goes fine. Until I’m handed my interview number, 26. And what number were they at? 6! The same number they were on all day and coincidentally my number which I would’ve gotten if I paid right away. Bastards. Well, I don’t want to cause an scene on an international level. So I sit down and wait. Now you would’ve expected these interviews to be thorough. Yeah, they weren’t. They consisted of questions that even the most nervous liar could get through. Even I could tell that some of the girls weren’t going to go “Work at Disneyworld”, I mean, I could see those papers were faked and the stamps and such were photoshopped. I guess it comes with the territory. Then it was my turn. I went through all the questions. She was a nice woman. Turns out she didn’t want me cheering for the Miami ‘Canes, so I said, if it lets me into the US, then I’m a Florida Gators man. She laughed and only asked to see my finacial support forms. Which I gladly obliged and showed it to her. Turns out I’m the kind of person they want in the US. Ooo scary.

Now, hopefully they won’t find this and read it. My visa has been granted but I haven’t got it yet. And until then it’s unofficial.

Now, the paying for the visa seriously left me with no cash. I needed 225 for the Taxi home from the airport. Which left me with 200 kr. Seeing that a decent meal costs you 100. I didn’t eat. Instead I spent some of it on drinks and coffee. Just to keep me awake. It was around then I was going to call some people to inform them of this good news. Guess what? I lost my phone. Turns out some guy found it on the train into town. I wonder what he thought when he heard “HEY THIS IS HAYLEY. AND I’M ZAC!” Well, he showed me that there is goodwill in people nowadays and he’s mailed it to me. So much <3 to him. It also gives me a way out of constantly talking to Ravnik on Skype.

Well, the end of the trip went fine. Except I crashed, as in my body just gave up on me and wanted sleep, at the airport. So I had to try my darnest to not look like a heroin addict with huge baggy eyelids when walking through security. It went fine barr the one woman who asked “Tired, huh?” I could nearly not even muster up a “Yuh.” Well well, I made it back and slept for ages. When I mean ages, I mean ages. Around a good 19 hours in total.

So that was my journey. I can’t wait to see how I’ll post about the longhaul to Orlando.

UPDATE: I just picked up the Student Visa. I LOVE AMERIKA! HAI! LIBERTY! FRIENDS! BEEG APPUL!