My Identity

Ya caught me...... My identity is on the verge of making itself known. I suppose this happens to every superhero at one point... And their sidekicks. This wasn't my choice, but in the climax of my high school A2 class, I fought valiantly alongside my fellow clan of super people. It was a showdown between us and the villain "Failure," and it was going to last about 15 minutes (I could tell that from the instant I started writing this post). Sadly, a lot my comrades fell quickly in battle, giving up their powers of deception at the sight of confrontation, accepting defeat, risking their lives because of the controversial topics they wrote about. There are few of us who are willing to battle to the end, despite the stench of imminent doom, hanging over our grades like a bone on a string, tethered in front of a dog's face. My partner in justice, Butch Kassidy, and myself, fought tooth and nail, only to be defeated by our dwindling time. Without further adieu... My name is...................................................................................................................................................................................................... Storm Champagne.....

Mutton Buster

When I was growing up, one of the places that I dwelt was Duchesne, Utah. For those of you who don't know what either of those two words are, I will tell you. Duchesne is a location in Eastern Utah that has more desert lizards in its borders than human beings. As far out as Duchesne is, they have one of the most famous rodeos in Utah. Naturally, those who grew up there would try to find a hobby and were lead to something that has to do with riding or roping an animal or slamming cars into each other. In an attempt to get my "California habits" out of me, she enrolled me to be a mutton-buster at one of the rodeos. Mutton-busting is a cruel form of endearment for country parents that consists of slapping a 5 year old on the back of a smelly, riled-up sheep and then letting the thing run into the stadium, frantically trying to get the pesky, unwanted, pants-dampened kid off their back. Those who stay on for 8 seconds gets a bag of Skittles. 

I actually found this to be fun after 2 years of sheep riding. I was a well-known mutton-buster after having ridden the black sheep that had it out for me. I was sure that I could keep riding mutton for a while. Then the time came that I hit my 7th birthday (it was a modest Star Wars themed party). Things were going good still and I was gearin' up for another ride on another sheep. As I expressed my excitement to my parents, they had to go ahead and ruin it (like all parents do) by unleashing the hard fact that I was not of age for sheep anymore. In fact, if I wanted to ride again, I would have to do so on the back of a calf.

And thus ended the 2nd year of the reign of the mutton-busters.

Take a gander, slacker

1. Good 'ol Fear

2. Going Green (Not for the Weak)

3. Really?

ENJOY 

Passionality

I have a passion for Four-square. The smell of it, the design, the structure, the rubber. What is there to not love? Nothing is better than roundin' up the boys (and girls if ya got 'em) and just hitting a red, rubber ball into one another's square. Everybody needs a little hard-earned competitive fuel to get them going, and once you step in your cubic, designated square, it's all pure adrenaline and sweat from then on.
This also fortes into my other passion of making cocky, sons-of-guns, get humiliated by me. When I'm in the king square, I always aim for that stuck up fool in the standings and serve it right at his little toe. It usually is followed by a quick stumble, crash and then profanities, littering the surrounding air. Then I do an arm-chug, then sit in silence as he walks back to the end of the rather large line, amidst a spiraling defeat that you can tell is circling him like those birds that circle over your head when you get hit hard in the noggin.

Really?

I would love to say that all my posts are about me in the "real" world, but that would just be a bunch of bull [excuse the language (viewer discretion advised)]. Truth is, Fear and I never really tussled. In fact, all we ever did was play a quick game of Monopoly (let me tell you, he is darn good).
Also, I'm a totally jealous mess. I go green when somebody even looks at me who is wearing a hot chick around their arm, but whatever. I can get over it (but really, I can't....).
In real life, all I play is x-box, take showers and do homework for creative writing. I'm just a wee high school lad trying to find his way in this world by blogging his emotions because my grade is riding on me posting nonsense and you reading them.
So.... Enjoy (and if you don't enjoy it, blog about it. That's how this whole thing started).

embarrassMEnt

The most embarrassing thing that happens is when you spit out what you thought was the most original, funny, witty joke to your group of friends and they don't accept it. Not just reject it, but slam it back in your face with their cruel laughter. Aw man, that is the worst... I think... At least that's what my friends tell me. Of course I wouldn't know firsthand (I'm actually funny).

Going Green (Not for the Weak)

The most hurtful son-of-a-gun emotion out there (besides pain), is jealousy. This explosive emotion is what drives "high schoolers" to be so darn incapable of being rational.
That guy's clothes ARE nicer then yours, obviously! But it's what's on the inside that counts... Sheesh... And yes, wouldn't surprise me if his kidney is better than yours as well. Get over that too. Poor high school kids are so susceptible to the grasping hands of radical feelings. I'm a high school kid as well, but c'mon, jealousy is another way of stating that I'm uncomfortable looking in the mirror. Along with the very noticeable gap between you and that other guy, chalk another point for him for having self-esteem. Reject.

Stress-friends

Stress is that really annoying guy who won't stop following you and always wants to talk to you, even though you talked to him 3 minutes ago. It just talks to talk. Stress won't go away until you finally find a convincing disguise to alleviate his persistent ability to find you.
He always arrives at the worst time possible. It seems as though you're fighting with someone and are in mid-verbiage when he jumps on in and says, "Dude, you comin' to tennis practice today?"

... And a side of Dream

Every time a new fad has expressed itself among my brain (where I actually fancy the idea), it is not a part of me until that idea has passed initiation through a dream. Not like and aspiring dream to be a paleontologist when I grow up, but to have Mr. Sandman vacation to my slumber and bring me a movie to watch. Unless I have a dream about this "Fad," then I cannot claim to be apart of it.

Through this standard, I now write in waiting for the Zombie Apocalypse to take place (any day now), as professional auto-body repairman and as a time-lost 70's highway patrolman.

I'm still waiting for a dream to convert myself into getting a 4.0 this term, but it has not come yet, but the key is to have faith. "The dreams will come if they are meant for you" (St. Orm 4:6-10).

Who's Courage?

Courage is directly related to the amount found in your leader. As a sidekick, you don't speak for yourself, but both words and actions. It has been known throughout the history of the world that once a leader or commander has been overpowered, then the rest of his crew (however large) will crumble. And if it does hold on to some hint of life and manage to survive the ordeal, they will at least be in disarray unless a new leader is appointed fast.
Knowing this, choose your leader wisely. It is him/her who speaks for your congregation and whatever he gets you into, it now your problem. Therefore, your battles are those of your leaders courage.
Leaders have special abilities that come with the job, like +2 fortitude, +3 persuasion and a whopping +7 to diplomacy. Leaders have the power to imbue courage among his subjects, but also can take it away. It is there other actions that help them get more boosts to their stats.
A wise sidekick once said, "Make sure your top-dog knows all elements of the map and scenario. If you do this, then your party will be one that will lead to great fortune and vast experience."

Good 'ol Fear

Fear, is quite the unfair player. I've never witnessed anything more fearful in my life then that first time I went toe-to-toe with good ol' Fear.

There I was, on a hike up the back mountains of Saratoga Springs, that gently caressed the sky with its massive.... height. That's when Fear first struck.

We grappled for quite some time before he fled into the thick growth. I rested and right when I got my bearings, I thought about Fear returning and what he would be bring. From the corner of my eye, I saw an ominous figure looming behind the foliage. It was tall, thick and hairy.
And then wham-o! Fear was came at me once again! It took all my strength to get him to back off, but rest assured, I did.
There was no time to regain my strength, when all of a sudden, I felt something tickle my arm. I instinctively itched, but did not hit skin when I reached, but a big, treacherous spider, basking on my arm.
In an instant, Fear tackled me to the ground started wailing on me with his clenched fists.
I didn't even fight back. I was far too tired to react, or even think about the Fear upon me.
As fast as it started, Fear had released me, and ventured back into the woods.
I lied there in shambles for quite sometime, before realizing that I was half-way up the mountain and was committed to making it to the top.
It was Fear's final blow. He was on top of me once again, going for the jugular. I held my hands at my throat to shield his furious attempts to chock me out. My strength was failing me once again, and I once again gave up. Cleared my mind and gave no attention to my current situation.
Once again, Fear had fled away, mid-strike.
I awoke to some loving faces in the comfort of my own bed. I opened my eyes and found that my room was dark. Seeing only faint outlines of the furniture and other components of my room, I saw good 'ol Fear standing in the corner, watching.

Creativity HERE

There is one creative mechanism that surpasses most when it comes to everyday life, and how to make it more manageable. There was once a time when we had to grab both a fork, and a spoon when eating something that had a liquid (suitable for a spoon) and a solid (appropriate for a fork). When going to restaurants, one had to make sure they had to grab both, making hand-space limited. It is often a problem to forget one of them in your rush to chow-down on some grub.
Then the "Spork" came and put together the two most important utensils to ever hit man-kind's hands. It is a perfect example of unity among the powers of the world (F.Y.I.).

"A Quick End"

By Patrick Boyd

Single fatal crash,
A deafening explosion,
Pieces everywhere.
Legos thrown against a wall,
makes disassembly simple.  

This poem, is fresh in the library of poetry.com since five days ago. I think Boyd has a good arrangement here that is easy to relate to. Breaking something is the easiest way to disassemble something ("Spot on Watson!"). I think it is an ideal focus on the human reaction, but how easy do we recreate this action... with love?