Why Did I Do It?

Why? Why on earth did I invite unspeakable horror into my home? Why did no one tell me that it was a FUCKING BAD IDEA?!

What good is this community huh? I started reading about all these irrational people who are on the run and I LITTERALLY INVITE Tall, Dark, and Slender to come haunt me. Even my family history can't save me. I can't sleep, can't even walk down the street without checking over my shoulder for the faceless man. The pale, featureless face haunts me everywhere I go....and the shower curtain sitting across my tub now seems like a really bad idea.

To recap, A few nights ago I called upon the powers that be to bring Slender Man to me so I could laugh in his suit wearing presence. That turned out to be a retarded decision, and I wouldn't blame you for questioning my intelligence. I wasn't expecting for a figment of overactive imagination to show up outside my window. Yesterday was another peaceful night, and I was curled around my bottle of rum, ready to pass out from my drunken stupor, to notice something flickering in the light of the bustling city just outside my window. It goes to say I was startled by what was staring at me....or rather the lack of what was staring at me. Tentacles thrashing in the rain, an ethereal, guttural, screeching, distortion coming from his very presence.....I should have worn my brown pants to bed.

Ever since then I have seen his minion crouching outside my windows, waiting outside my door for me to make a mistake and set one foot past the threshold. What they don't know is that I am ready for the nuclear war in this bunker of a house, and eating canned food won't bother me for as long as I have to wait for all of this to blow over. Maybe I shouldn't have been playing with fire in the first place, but what is the fun if you're not going to get burned, or burn down the house you are playing in and half the neighbourhood along with it? Somehow I think all of this will turn out wonderfully, and I will live a nice long and eventful life, right guys?

I'll live right?

Sleepless Night #1

I'd hate to say I am afraid, because I don't believe I am, even if I am jumping at every creak and groan. I attribute that to the fact that the house next door is already a disaster waiting to happen and could well...fall at any moment.

Since the last time I posted nothing has become clearer to me. I spent my whole day on the internet looking for others like me...but it just seems like these people are, to be frank, awesome. I am far from the desired subject to fight this "Slender Bug", but it seems like everyone just pussy foots around the issue. I am not quite sure if it is lack of sleep that leads me to write this or perhaps it is my perverse death wish that makes these words flow from my finger tips. So here, with the hesitation of a thirteen year old that wants to look cool in front of his friends, but knows mommy and daddy will hate this decision, I come out with the very thoughts I believe that everyone wants to hide.

COME AND GET ME SLENDER MAN! I AM WAITING FOR YOU TO MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL AND LA DE DA. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME LEAVE MY LESS THAN COMFORTABLE HOUSE, THAT REALLY DOESNT MEAN MUCH TO ME, AND ABANDON MY LIFE, THAT NO ONE REALLY CARES ABOUT EITHER!

There. I said it. Now I just have to wait for the horrible monstrosity to descend upon me. I can't see why everyone is so scared. Slender Man is just a figment of everyone's imaginations and can't hurt me, or anyone else. All these people on the run are just paranoid of bumps in the night or delusional and need to be in a mental hospital, on stronger medication than a normal psychiatrist can give. The diary that was left to me from my "dad", which I still can't prove is either fake nor real, is for some reason keeping me up at night, and I am finding it in my constant thoughts. There is more to this hoax than there seems to be, and I WILL find the answers behind it.

And So It Goes

Now I am sorry to all those who watch this blog....Which is no one, and to my one commenter, The computers over here refuse to let me comment back to you. I would hate to make anyone feel as ignored and set aside as I have alwas been and continue to be.


On another note, a couple weeks ago I'm sure you heard of the bomb that went off in New York City. The house next door had the foundations damaged and my house shook so hard that well, I legitimately thought there was an earthquake and holed myself up in my bathroom. I didn't come out for a week and I must tell you that the Bathtub is far from comfortable. After finally coming out to see the light of day, and nearly getting lead away in handcuffs because the police actually smashed my door down to drag out the fugitive they thought lived there, I noticed a small and unexplained package in the mail box by the aforementioned door. Taking it out of the brown packaging, I noticed in all my brilliance that it was a note book, or to be more politically correct, a diary/memoir/who really cares about this anyway.


In reading the writing, something remarkable happened....Do you hear me? REMARKABLE!


Who would have thought that something interesting would happen to little, ol' UNREMARKABLE me.


In conclusion to my outburst, someone left me my father's diary. Jacob Timothy Russell, the man I always believed to have left me and my mother for some better family that was less boring, didn't quite leave at all. It's like the world ended and came back in different light, and that's not just because I've taken to having a glass of Rum in the morning instead of the usual coffee, or that I stopped going to work and no one has even remotely noticed any form of absence. It shouldn't affect me so to know that my father died, and left me here with all the love that he could possibly muster and named me after two of his best friends who turned into his closest family and now some horrible, inescapable, oddity is after my life....okay, maybe the last bit should but that's not my point.


I now know I am being hunted, but by what I can't tell you, and I hardly know how to describe what this Tall, Dark, and Slender guy is all about. Still, all I really do understand is that I'm supposed to watch my back and be afraid of the shadows in the corner of my eye.....I wonder how all this will turn out.

Casual Fridays

I have always wondered what "Casual Friday" actually meant, seeing as I haven't had a life coach since my mother died and I don't know what casual clothes really are. I figured it was kind of like a Halloween for office workers, where they dressed up in costumes and tried to impress their bosses with their creativity. Perhaps I was lucky that no one really noticed what I did until now, or maybe I was just that weird guy that is in every office across our fair country, and everyone talks behind their backs, and keeps them around just to laugh at them standing around the water cooler. Now today of all days I got sent home. Me, the man who has never missed a day of work for his mother dying in the hospital or for the flu that should have had me flat on my back in bed, got sent home.


Now perhaps the gangster costume was a little too much, with my pants at my knees and an over long shirt, but it at least gave me a little bit of personality for god's sake....not that there is a god (or maybe there is but I'm not one to judge). In any case, my boss showed up at my desk, for the first time in well, since I started, and demanded to know why I was dressed in, I quote, "Such a ridiculous fashion". Now I am polite to the core, and believe me when I say I took no offence to his sharp and offensive tone, and calmly replied, describing all that I knew about the mythical "Casual Friday". Apparently that didn't go over very well...because here I sit at home, after my boss demanded I leave, and not come back until Monday. Well at least I will have a weekend off for once in my life, not that I really ever had to go in on weekends at all.


Now for another question to my adoring non-existent public........


What exactly does one do on weekends? How do you have that thing you call "fun"? Is it like the casual enjoyment you get out of completing a particularly difficult task...or you should be getting out of "Casual Friday" with your obsessed co-workers? I am, in all honesty, confused and upset by this conundrum that seems to want to tear the fragile balance I have created with my own brain to keep me somewhat, I suppose the word is, sane. If anyone would like to give me the answer, then I would be in your debt... figuratively of course, seeing as the unremarkable me has nothing to give to anyone or anything.

Work

Today's work was dull as always, and any other day would have seen me trying to tear out my hair in boredom. However, today seemed a little bit different in the way that I noticed just how normal everything is. I sit at the same desk every day, and pretty well all my co-workers ignore my very existence as a whole. I could probably stay over night and not even the cleaners would notice that there was some guy in the way of the below standard job that they are so used to doing. (I swear that the same ham and cheese sandwich, which had been one of my lunches, the same thing since elementary school, has been in my garbage can for around a month.) That goes to say that of course I have stayed overnight and no one noticed that anything was different, except for perhaps the permeating smell of BO that I had acquired from many days of being the first one to arrive in the morning, and the last to leave at night. So as you can see I really don't have any friends, because if you think anyone cared that I was never at home and was knee deep in work, believe me when I say that no cops were called for the missing person's report.


In any case, my actual job isn't that interesting. People drop stacks of paperwork in my inbox, like they are the most important things in the world and I just have to get them done immediately, I stamp them up and put them in my outbox so that they can be left there for two weeks. This stuff is *cough*bullshit*cough*. It's the same old thing every day and it never changes. Never. Never must last forever, especially in my line of lifetime enhancement courses. I have a whole stack of those CDs that promise to enhance your life and make you less socially awkward or something like that, but I guess you can tell how that worked out. I digress.


Now, I am sitting at home, with my cup of tea and lemon, no sugar because it could make me hyperactive, and no one would want that now would we, because even that I can only do in a mediocre fashion. Perhaps I get a small buzz and a bit jumpy, but I do better at the bottom of a bottle. It makes all my worries and cares go away, which is actually a blatant lie, but it's something I would like to believe in, because I don't actually believe in much, if you couldn't tell that already. There is no god, there is no higher power, and there are certainly no supernatural monsters and the like. Now perhaps I should be curling up in my white sheeted bed, with a navy blue comforter including the anchor accents, and crying my unremarkable butt to sleep, because nothing else is going to change today, or tomorrow, or perhaps maybe even the next day, but I think there is a better use of my time putting my head down and getting everyone else's paperwork finished for them. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to get back to that.

This is me

Well I think the title of this post and of my entire blog says it all. I am Joseph Michael Russell, but if you call me that I may just have to break your legs, so just call me Russell, not Russ, or Joe, or anything else for that matter. I am your totally normal kind of guy, with a house and a car that blend in with every other house and car on my street, and I've been working and living in the same place since I graduated college last year. I grew up in a broken family with only my mother, and no other relatives, which is the only odd thing about me I guess you could say, and as for my dad....well we don't really talk about the dead beat. Probably went off and, oh I don't know, traded up for a better looking wife and better behaved kid, and left the test run behind. In any case, everything about me is unremarkable, nothing is special at all....not one thing makes me different from that guy you pass on the street and think, "that stiff/loser/waste of space never has any fun at all". In fact, I am that stiff/loser/waste of space because I never do have fun, I never go out, and I certainly don't have any friends.


"So why start a blog?" you may be asking, because someone like me doesn't seem to have a very interesting life to tell you all about, or even something relevant to say to the world at large, but, you see, I feel I am such a perfect specimen of mediocrity, that perhaps the world should know about someone like me and what I do in my overly normal day to day life. In any case, I am totally unremarkable, perfectly normal, and I highly doubt that anything amazing will ever happen in my lifetime. Call me a pessimist if you'd like, but I prefer to be called a realist.