“Webcam” is based on actual events and was shot entirely on a computer’s webcam.
The filmmakers hope that it will make people think more about the technology that we use every day and the effects it can have on all of us.Just watch this.. I bet you will think twice about covering your webcam with tape after watching it. It’s a video about ‘Webcam Hacking’ where other people can spy on you, using your webcam without you knowing.
(via linaaay)
“Tumbling” [or whatever the word is] just…isn’t the same. So, I’m done. It’s been real…
I’m pretty sure this is my last post.
I should be in class. Or at least walking to class. Or at least thinking about class. Too bad it’s light outside and usually it’s pitch black. My brain is telling me class isnt for an hour. My stats textbook is yelling for me to get a grip and go. Good thing it’s buried under junk in my backpack, so the sound is kind of muffled. It’s funny how you want what you can’t have. It’s almost cruel.
Something is wrong.
My eyeballs just havent been producing enough juice. I don’t understand…one minute, I’m having an intense staring contest with my sister, and the next minute, my face is in my hands and I can’t stop blinking. I sat there on the couch moaning and rubbing my eyes until my mom came and told me to “cut the drama and take out the trash”. I’ve been in awkward pain [?] every since. The moisture from the shower burned, the fan from the kitchen made my eyes water, and now this air conditioning is turning my eyeballs into powder-covered golf balls. I only feel relief when I close my eyes, and, well…I need to see.
That “Little Bit” song says a little bit too much about my thoughts. The ones at night you can’t escape from. The ones with a hint of truth, but more hope than anything. The ones that are never [ever] spoken aloud. The ones that carry shame. Regret. Embarrassment. Yes, it’s catchy, and yes, it’s everything. All in one song, that’s it right there. Plain…pretty clear. How we move from A to B, it can’t be up to me…cause I don’t know. I hate not knowing, yet, that state comforts me. How can you mess up when you simply don’t know? How can you hurt? How can you feel? What do I feel?
Abraham walked into the room and suddenly I got happy. Inside my head I was saying “Yesssss”. Why? I have no idea, but choir was getting more boring by the note and my gum was getting old. Really old. So old that it was getting hard and the flavor had simply ceased to exist. I was chewing on rubber. Moving along to this man’s curls—ANGELIC. He bounced to a seat in the middle of us, his curls flying like there was a permanent fan following him. And a beam of light following him, too. He glowed. I stared. Hard. Ms. Lynch says he’s a music major, but I say he’s just major. A big deal, and I don’t know what it is. So. We’re singing and she’s singing and the piano is crying and my gum is dying and he opens his mouth. Just like I thought: the voice of Jesus. Loud and clear but soft and sort of round, like his curls, like his walk. His name would be Abraham. He’s one of those guys who is his name, kind of like that “you are what you eat” saying. No, he’s not like that at all, and I hate that saying…He’s one of those guys with a swag you can’t put your finger on, but you know he’s something special. Leather jacket and all. He is an adorable bad boy, and his name is Abraham. Abraham. Hmm. He reminds me of someone, he knows who that is. Or he should. Maybe he doesn’t. Nonetheless, Abraham and got shit on Gravy. Even though one can sing and one, well…I won’t go there. Smile when you see me, yeah?
Lunch was wonderful. It was warm, but windy. My eyes couldnt seem to produce enough juice. Everytime I blinked to calm those retinas, I’d open them again only to be blasted with cool, dry wind. Like a blowdryer directly in my face. Kind of. Lunch was slow. I think that’s what made it so…wonderful. (wonderful…sounds like a word a white mother would use when describing something her husband doesnt care about, yeah? Eh.) I sat for 30 minutes and laughed and squinted again and again and again. We shared cookies. We sipped Hi-C’s. We were alright. Her cheese wouldnt work right, but that was okay. I had a purple spoon and a red spoon that I can already tell I’m never throwing away. How can I? So perfect and pure. *smile. He appeared randomly, quietly. He was kind of apart of the background, but important nonetheless. I wonder if that’s how I am, just in the background there…being. Unnoticed (un-noticed?), but noticed when thought of. That’s how I want to be. I’ll never know. I guess Elevate Your Game was cancelled for the day. It doesnt really matter. I know I’m not fufilling my role as a mentor at all. I rarely even see the girl, I don’t look for her, and I honestly only start caring when I see her every other Tuesday, smiling and sharing Cheetos. What is her name? Why can’t school teach us material based on the SAT and fuck the rest? Why is the computer lab never completely toasty? I wonder if he wonders about it as much as me. Probably not. That’s usually how it is anyway.
I miss my laptop like I miss Brittany. And that’s a lot. In a way, this separation is…good. I spend more time thinking of that face than scrolling facebook. More time tumbling on the floor with my sister than on this thing. More time sleeping and feeling good. More time thinking and letting my mind take over the reality. More time making things. I made a bow yesterday. For my hair. I havent made one since 9th grade but my fingers knew what to do. Cloth tuck pull clip done. I wore it today, and although I’m positive no one noticed or cared, it means something. A product of what I can do when I’m not hunched over a screen. But I still want it fixed, I still want it. I miss sitting in bed writing [typing…?] stories, my dreams, my conversations, everything. I saved it all, and now that my laptop is sick, does that mean they’re gone? I hope not. Better not be.
Eh.
I feel a rant coming on. Technology is so…unreliable. Shit fails you everytime. And I’m ending the rant. Moving along.
To what? I guess that’s it. This post feels…pointless.
The End
Yesterday, my mom told me I need to walk more gracefully. I told her to shut up. Kidding. I just stared at her and walked away. In my attempt to “grace-ify” my walk, a chair leapt in front of me and, of course, I stumbled and laughed and started singing and smiling. She joined me. I love her.
“Don’t need another love song, we need a love bomb. To just blow us away. To freakin’ blow the lights out.”
NERD
“Rolled up like a blunt…you should come smoke me.”
T.V. blows me. Must every channel blare nonsense that means nothing to…anyone? Today I spent hours laying on a couch, eyes glazed over, my thumb mechanically clicking the channel button with her not to far away, a similar robot in a sweater. Is this what it comes down to? True Life and snuggie commercials? My mind has suffered from the steady torture it received from being forced to concentrate on nothing. If I could apologize to my brain, I would. I’d comfort it and hug it and damn T.V. blows me. It betrays me again and again. I miss when T.V. was a treat and I could eat cereal and enjoy my cartoons. When watching commercials made me feel like an adult, and waiting for my favorite show was like waiting for Christmas. T.V. blows my brain and, at least for a little while, I’m done. I think I’m going to take a break from it, you know, go Mormon for a while, I guess. I need some silence in my life. I need some painstakingly quiet silence. I need to turn off the T.V. And as I’m writing this, I can’t help feeling like my grandmother who strongly believes that T.V. is the devil. It took years for our family to persuade her to put one of those black boxes back in her house and even more time to persuade her to get cable. Once she had a nice flat screen complete with Direct TV and movie channels, I noticed things. While she would sit explaining something, my mother’s eyes would drift over to the T.V. screen. When we came over, we stopped eating in her dining room [which is the most beautiful room in the house, silver and blue and glass and…I love it.] and relocated to the den, sitting smack dab in front the T.V., trays and all. I’m sorry for wanting it there and I’m sorry for letting it blow me and I’m sorry that people care so much and I’m sorry that I don’t think I’m really sorry.
It was special. I can tell it was one of those amazing secretly wonderful enticing rainbow in your stomach and tingling in your toes type things and I…am just here. I’m here, in the background thinking and wondering and guessing and questioning and never ever knowing. Now, I don’t know how to feel and for the first time, I kind of don’t want to feel. I don’t want to feel…anything. I want to lay on a bathroom floor and just be aware. Only think of the cold tile on the legs and the steady hum from the lights and that weird thing sticking out behind the door. That’s it. I want to lay freezing but comfortable and awkward and natural and white. Pure white, can you believe it? Me, thinking of white and cold and tile and well, that’s what I want to do. To feel blank, for once.
