English

I like writing. I really do. People say I'm good at it. I like playing with words, making things sound eloquent by changing just a few words.

Which is why I think it's funny that I really don't like English. I never honestly have. I don't see the point in knowing the different parts of a sentence. Prepositional phrases, indirect objects, dependent clauses? I don't intend to be a editor when I grow up. The only real use I see for English is that it's character building.

The second thing I find funny is that I'm good at something I could care less about. Always get A's, its stupid.

Life is funny some times.

BELT TESTING!!!!!!

Dude, I got the results! My teacher, Master Baca, says that we're gonna have belt testing next weekend. And he finally told us which ones were ready for sure to take the test. He wants to have the whole class ready to test, but he said that three kids were ready to go. The three in the front row.

Guess who stands in the front row?
Tomoko, Hideo, ME!

It is so totally awesome! I am stoked! The three of us all taking the test at once, completely WICKED SWEET! (You can tell because I'm using all my surfer slang)

I also got second place for a raffle. Person who sold ten candles got entered for a drawing. First place was six months free lessons. (Another friend of mine got that, Sid. He'll probably be ready for the test by the time it comes) I got a $50 gift certificate for anything in the store. I wanna buy some nunchaku (Nunchucks if you don't know better) and get myself in the Weapons Class. That would be so cool, but I don't know if I have enough for that.

Poor Master Baca hurt his back. Hope he starts feeling better. Reagan's got a private gymnastics class with him tommorow morning. I wanna tag along and ask him and his other black belts some questions about the belt testing. And see about those nunchakus!

He said the class would spar on Monday. Oh boy.

Monday's entry: Monday's injuries.

Late Night Pondering

Good gosh. I don't know why I can't sleep. It's gonna be midnight and I'm not tired. We even went to Clovis. I guess I'm just bored. I'm so dead if my parents catch me on the computer this late.

I think my problem is that I think to much. I can't help it. So many thoughts, so many ideas, and barely any of them ever make it out. Sometimes I wonder, what's the point of thinking all these incredible thoughts when hardly any one ever hears them? And if they are heard, who even cares?

Does everybody think great thoughts? Or just a few extraordinary people? How many of those ideas are ever acted on? Is not acting on what we think and using the inspiration that comes from every aspect of nature a crime?

Is it possible to explode from every thing left unspoken? To one day, burst out and scream everything you've ever dreamed to whoever who will listen? Is that what drives some people crazy? Because, until then, no one ever listened?

Does it hurt to know the answers when nobody will listen? How about asking questions when you know no one will answer? What about learning the answers to questions you never wanted to know?

Why do we think? We don't ask to. For the most part, I don't think we intend to. It just happens. As long as we live, we think. We wonder and question.

I don't know, maybe I'm just insane. Does any one other than me even think like this? Maybe I'm the only one and that's just how it's supposed to be.