The World Vs Richard Young

You know in end of the world movies, like terminator 2, 'that guy' who always takes the bullet by chance which in turn rescues the hero, like john connor, because the bullet didn't make it through his body?

I've been thinking a lot about that scene in terminator 2, wherein a man (possibly a janitor) holding a pepsi can gets in the way of the T-1000 (advanced prototype) shooting our glorious hero and sole hope for mankind: John Connor.

This is what I think happened here.

In the future, a man was sent back in time in order to take that bullet and protect john. He was sent back and tried to act all incognito about it so that he could place himself in the proper place at the proper time. One thing he remembered once he got back was that he was now capable of getting one of the only things he missed from the past: A pepsi.
As he finally cracked that three hundred fifty five milliliter can of deliciously caffeinated, carbonated and sweetened beverage he prepared himself to be re-acquainted with his teenage love. However, at that moment, it was time for him to do his part in saving the world, and he takes three bullets to the chest to aid john with his schwarzennegarial escape.

Fuck, poor guy,
But hey, let's just cut to the next scene, no one cares about him. Fuck you James Cameron, i expect only the best from you and this untold story is bugging me, so make it happen.

People consider chores things that you do around the house in what would normally be referred to as 'down time', or, time you do not spend at work. So, in my case, the case of the decrepit unpublished writer, where i am seen as an unemployed bum when I do nothing save write from day to day, since this is my 'down time' and takes up large amounts of time with the endpoint having the same significance as me cleaning my bathroom, could this be considered a 'chore'? when is it that we the writing community can go around telling people that we are, in fact, writers?
what does that entail?
everyone has a justification for it that is slightly different but really when addressing the general working public saying you are a writer is synonymous with saying 'i contribute nothing of true value to society'. This, naturally, sucks. but whatchoo gonna do, better keep doing that chore of putting pen to paper, or in this blog's case, fingers to keys.

This may not have made sense, i spent a lot of time writing it completely distracted.
Richard.

I've pushed back a few academic priorities in favor of personal priorities that I currently find more...maybe important is not the word I search for but it at least gives you an idea of where my head is at. or perhaps where my head is hat. whichever, whenever, whoever, and whatever one you prefer just leave this reading with the knowledge of priorities in my life. Through the program "Processing" which almost advertises itself as 'computer programming for people who like shiny things' I have rediscovered my love for programming and really look forward to making some extremely shiny things in it that have a finished look without putting any effort into the 'finishing' portion of programming, which usually is the most difficult part, although not the most time-consuming.

This leaves me at a state of mind where i find it difficult to decide which path would be the most happy route for me to now follow. I could continue pushing school projects back to paint and wind up an androgynous homeless artist (androgyny is so hot right now) who gets by by pretending he has fourteen works on the go back at the studio located under the tenth street bridge. Or i could learn how to tie a tie and head downtown on a train of my other fallen comrades, each one thinking to themselves how unlike all these other suiters they gave up a life of art to look good on paper and make their parents not proud but appeased. Well fuck it, if these are the only two routes to pursue from this point I'm going to take the third branch. You know the one that hasn't been taken for a few years? I'm gonna grab a bowler's cap, grab my crotch and dance my way into the 'indie rock' scene as the next michael jackson. No no no i wont be doing any singing or anything musical whatsoever, but instead  simply spinning around in circles and making people scratch their heads. I imagine I can get enough people to not think that its cool...but think its new and exciting...at least enough to try it themselves, and then i can teach them my ways, make them give me all their money and follow me to san francisco, where i'll teach them how to take advantage of life insurance policies, make tons of money, send them off to kill some studio exec's wife  as i escape to Morocco where I can live like a king for approximately thirty two years before being convicted and returned to my own country, where my only hope will be to swim to Venezuela where i will for sure live peacefully until the end of my days. Great idea? ok readyyyy break!

Richard.

a loud crack was heard as all his knots accumulated into what could only be referred to as treeacide and he fell over, more depressed and lonely than any crossroad sign ever to come before him, his fall seemed long and overly dramatic and gave him enough time to ponder the ancient saying "if a tree falls alone in the forest..."

"A once much more famous than ever before type guy named Tommy Jane passed the P.I. on the street, unaware of not only the conflict of interests between the two, this Tommy also having dreams of floating his fingers in and out of files, profiles, and expertfiles, and also the conflict of having the same name, Tommy Jane passed him without even the tip of his very detective-like hat, touching it at the brim, no, he was much too concerned with a whole different kind of file, a pedophile."