Category: Blog

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Running for Charity

Hey again! As part of my quest to find adventure and get in shape, I’m gonna start running. Seems to me that my future sword fighting adventures will go better if I can run really fast and get away from the other person with a sword.

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First, I decided I needed a new running shirt. As proud survivor of scribomania, I want to show the world how I have overcome this affliction. Not just overcome it, but thriving with it. See my blog, read my roar, watch me run. But I needed a special t-shirt for that.

So, I did a search to see if I could find a charity t-shirt about scribomania. With what I have suffered and had to overcome because of my mother’s scribomania, there should be charity devoted to helping people with it. Or least, to help me continue to thrive despite it. Flipping burgers is just not cutting anymore.

Guess what? I could not find a “help scribomania survivors” t-shirt of any kind. Not one with a ribbon picture or puzzle piece or a pencil or just those words. I tried messaging Greg but he may still be dead. I talked to Gary and he told me about websites that will help you design a t-shirt.

So, I searched and found Charitees. This was awesome and I designed my “help scribomania survivors” shirt.

The graphics were hard to figure out. Did I want a pencil? Maybe a pen? Maybe both? But then again, I type on a computer. What to do? So, I created a cool looking, tornado like image with pens, pencils, keyboards, and monitors. It was so cool, I craved a frosty.

The shirt arrived and it is time for my first run for the cause of scribomania! I pulled on my running shorts. Yikes, those were a little tight. I stepped outside and felt the chill of a Wisconsin summer afternoon. I headed out, needing the exercise to warm up a bit. It felt good to run. Well, jog at least. I was trying to think of how to get to the nearest park when I heard a honk. I stopped. The car nearly hit me. The driver flipped me off and tore away. I was so mad and wanted to flip him back but I was already too winded to lift my right arm. More honking so I trotted to the other side of the street.

2016I had been in the crosswalk but forgot to check the traffic light. My bad. A woman walking by with an infant stroller stared at my shirt. I smiled at her. Her brow furrowed and she quickly crossed the street. What just happened? I looked at my design and decided she was a poop head. Not to be discouraged, I started to jog in the direction of the park. Careful to watch for traffic signs, I kept on.

See, being able to run away is a good thing. Though, I wondered what he charged. And I wondered if he charged more or less than Greg did. I missed my buddy. I almost turned around to talk to that dude but he had missed the mark with my message.

I slowed down as I hit the dirt at the park. Some kids were playing on the monstrous set of slides, climbing walls, stairs and walk-way things. My body hurt just thinking about crawling on that stuff. To cool down I walked around the play area. A few kids who were digging in the dirt looked up at me. “Hey Mister, is that a write-nado on your shirt?” They giggled. What I wanted to say I couldn’t say to kids. A few moms eyed me with cold shark eyes. I shook my head and moved toward the boys. Pointing to my chest, I told them it was about scribomania. Behind me, I heard the moms grumble about weird strangers. Instinct took over and I ran away. I really needed a frosty.

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Paid Leave

Hello again! I’m back after a few days of being off. Yes, I am completely fine. No, I haven’t abandoned you, loyal readers. I’ve just been working a LOT. And I mean a LOT. They might be finally promoting me. Who knows. But it turns out that there is a lot to go on before they can put you into anything higher than grunt!burger

Interesting little thing happened the other day that was completely bizarre. It turns out we all were locked out of our store for about twenty minutes before my boss called the wonderful gentleman at Cincinnati locksmith! They drove right over in a way that suggests time travel and opened the front door for us no problem. I am forever in their debt.

Once we got the training began. I was responsible for closing everyone’s tills and making sure out Drive thru was spotless. Which was great because the grease always needs to be picked up which always gives me the opportunity to clean more! I am very lucky to be in a positon that causes me to be cleaning as opposed to the one making all of the messes.

In other news, I’ve been working ten-hour shifts there and catching up on this gorgeous new show called Bojack Horseman. I’m not all the way caught up with the show but it is a fantastic show, and I dig it. I highly suggest everyone here watch it.

I’ve also started a new diet. It’s the DASH diet for those who know! It’s endorsed by the US government and created by the people who balance the nutrition system out and designed the food pyramid. If there’s anyone I can trust to make a functioning and operational diet. It’s the US Government and the DASH diet.

Aside from all of that, you’re pretty much caught up with my life. I haven’t had the chance to do much else other than working, eating and watching Bojack. At least two of these options are progressive enough that I can safely do it and not have my health affected by it.

I’ve been thinking about picking up some other skills. Instead of just sitting down and typing for the rest of my life. I mean all I do is sit down watch tv, eat food and then make food at my job. I want adventure. I want more from my life! I think I want to pick up sword fighting or something. I don’t know. I want tfightingo do something amazing, truly off the wall. I want to get in shape and become the best version of me that I can be.

After I finish Bojack Horseman. I don’t know anymore. I know that I want to do great things, but it’s like my brain won’t let me pursue it. I’d rather just hang out at home and do nothing. But I wish that I could be great at something instead of be average and do nothing. Who knows, maybe I’ll pick up crocheting or something.

Then he stopped breathing…

Social-EraThe cryptic title for a cryptic story undoubtedly. But I’m going to lay out all of the information that I have so that you understand why I think Greg is dead. Firstly, I haven’t spoken to him for over a year, and that’s practically dead to me especially in the era of social media, you think he would send out an update or something like “Hey all, I’m dead now.” But then again he hasn’t ever been very thoughtful.

First, The day he arrives he told me he was being moved into this big huge house in Sunny Isles (I don’t know, some place in Miami). I know it’s big and huge because I looked up the people he told me about ‘Brosda and Bentley.’ I looked them up because when anyone says they’re associated with Bentley, I don’t trust it, and he doesn’t have that much money. So exhibit A, he moved into a fantastic house that is worth a lot of money that he was just too young to have access to. Greg, a guy who had to skip school lunches and shopped at GAP for holidays, has now moved into a place called Sunny Isles? I’m not buying it.

skipping school in sunny isles beach flSecond, he kept complaining about the weather, looked peckish and didn’t finish his food. He acted like somebody who was worried about being assassinated. I believe that he will be or has already been assassinated based solely on his behavior. He seems like a side character in a movie that is supposed to be the trigger for the main character to go find out who did it. But he was neither a good person, a good friend, and I am certainly not the kind of person who would go after gangsters after they killed my friend. My hands are shakey enough as is, thank you very much.

Chateau-Beach-in-Sunny-IslesThird, he used to sell drugs and deal with gangsters. Back in high school, he threw the best parties because he was always accessible to drugs because his dad was an addict and owned a liquor store. But after his dad got arrested in 2008, he lost his connection and wanted to get out of town. One could say he orchestrated this whole ordeal out of his selfishness of which he very much is.

And that’s all the evidence I got. My drug dealer friend moved into the Chateau Sunny Isles, a place he’s not even from and one of the most expensive homes in Miami; became very paranoid about being eaten by crocodiles and then disappeared. I’m sure he must be golfing somewhere or living an honest profession. But there, we’ve sealed up that loose end right now. Yes, I think he’s probably dead. Now if you guys would stop e-mailing me about why I don’t see him or why I don’t go to confirm that would be great. This isn’t some website where you can casually read to enjoy your curiosity; this is an exercise so I can keep my hands busy long enough not to walk into traffic.

I really should make this whole blog private, but I do enjoy some of the dialogue between you dear readers, so keep it coming, ask me more trivial things about my life like how my mom died or something.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

movingI suppose to progress with this blog I have to explain how we got here, not that there is anything to explain or account for in that regards. Well, to explain how we got to where we are (we being me, Gary and Greg of course.) We should explain how we departed. When we were all twenty we decided it was time to move, this was of course back when you could afford to move out before the economy went to hell. That is the splendid time of 2009. Right after Obama had been elected president.

Well, it was quite simple. We agreed to leave, and we did, we just didn’t know we were all going to be leaving each other. So Greg just picked up his things and left, and I’m told his car broke down just as he arrived at his house (lucky man.) Gary hired this local moving company called Top Notch Movers and had them just pack all of his stuff. He says that when he got there, they also unpacked the stuff for him too, which is a service that they offer or something. I’m not sure; I just remember the both of us being jealous and upset at the same time. AS for me, I just followed after Greg to a point until we both parted ways. He went East, and I kept going north.

Tornado AlleyI passed this region that was called Tornado Alley, which Wikipedia tells me is where the most tornadoes happen in the entire world because of low barometric pressure and hot weather. When you combine those two little diddy’s you end up with twisters that have a tendency of ravaging homes, I took that as a red flag and went just north to where the cool breezes are. I’m set to live the rest of my life here. Maybe one day I’ll manage a Wendy’s I don’t know.

Wendys-LogoAnyway, I saved up my money from my jobs at the library and moved into a studio apartment which means I can use the restroom and make dinner at the same time (efficient!), So I’ve been living there ever since, and it is now 2016. I’ve been working at the same Wendy’s the entire time, and it’s funny because I tend to have very jerky limbs and always keep moving but at the same time I feel like I’ve been staying the same the whole time.

I’ve never been promoted yet, but apparently I’ve hit the maximum amount of times they’re willing to give someone a raise. So up next has to be a promotion I guess, but that was a year ago, and it really could be any day now. I just clock in, punch numbers in a machine or flip burgers for a few hours and punch out. I suppose I could go to school, but I’m afraid that I don’t want to. I mean that literally, I get afraid that I don’t think I’ll ever find something that I’ll want to do with my life.

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First Post

Hello there! My name is Jason Marson and this is my new blog called Critical Genetics. It’s a reference to the fact that my mother had scribomania and it made her kill herself and now I have scribomania but I’m still alive. Some people think that there might be a problem with it but I am not of the opinion! I shall overcome!

I grew up with two friends, Gary and Greg, and together we were Gary and Greg and Jason. Which was not the sort of thing you wanted to be dared to saying five times fast. Anyways, we all grew up in the small town of Athens Georgia, except now I live in Wisconsin, Gary lives in Florida (psycho) and Greg lives in Boston. While we don’t get to see each other that often I haven’t seen one since last year and another since two months ago.

When I went and saw Greg two months ago, he remarked about how much weight I had gained, not my favorite opening sentiment so I called him a jerk and kicked him in the shins. He made it up to me by purchasing dinner for me when we went out to the local longhorn steakhouse. He had a steak and I had a salad with salmon. Who knew a steakhouse made fish?

Next I saw Gary a year ago and that was the last time either Greg or I had ever heard of him. We went out and he seemed very bothered about the local weather. The man was practically breaking out in hives and worried sick about crocodiles eating him or something like that. I went home afterwards and looked up the difference between them and gators but I think I would have a safer time with the gator. He had pancakes and I had waffles, though he neither finished his meal or started it.

Outside of those two events, I have a full family that I don’t talk to anymore, my father and sister still live in Georgia but we’ve just become estranged. It’s not out of spite, we just have all become very self-involved in our lives. My sister is trying to be a writer and wishes she had scribomania. However, I just write this blog.Part of what helps me stay on rhythm and stay caught up with my hands is Trance Music. I love trance music more than I love anything and I like to think that I live a Trance lifestyle. If you dig that sort of thing then check out my favorite site Trance Life. Probably to keep my hands busy over anything else.

I like where I live now. Wisconsin tends to be pretty quiet. Plus in the winter when it’s cold it lets me think that my hands are shaking because of the weather and not my condition. But I want to let you know right now dear reader. That I am not writing this blog for you. I’m writing it for me. It helps me. I like keeping my hands busy and I like writing about whatever comes to my head because while I’m here and doing this, I don’t have to worry about the trembling that will come after or have to think about what ended up happening to my mother. If you’d like to chat and help me stay busy for a little bit, visit the contact page and send me an e-mail.