No One's Original

No one's original. As I write this thinking "Oh, this is an originally ironic thought...." tens of you have thought it before. In fact hundreds of you have thought that before....

I'm saying "in fact" as if I had any evidence behind my bullshit theory. But statistically, I feel it is safe to say millions of us  have thought the thought that the thought of thinking we have a thought that no one has ever thought...well, it just cannot be true. No one's original. 

Before the days of the triple-W, the dot coms, and away statuses that I spent too many hours to perfect to paint a picture of a guy who "gets it"...I used to be an explorer. A shitty explorer, but an explorer nonetheless. I hated the mosquitos outside, but the feeling wasn't mutual. They would destroy my sweet young middle eastern perfect boy body. I did the majority of my explorations into the depths of my own curiosity-driven, fucked up little mind in the comfort of my living room.

"Why does Quantario's hair grow upwards and look like a velcro carpet while my hair is nice and thick and flows down with gravity? Why does God love me so much, but hate Quantario so much to give him hair like that" If you couldn't tell that Quantario is black from the context clues, than you are ignorant. Ignorant or so scared of being racist that you bore me. First clue that he was black is how creative the name is! The black community shows no boundaries when it comes to naming their children. They have no fear to throw in an apostrophe or two even. That's badass. One of my best friends got in trouble with his Mimi (grandmother) when he was younger for lying to her. She asked him what the name of his new friend is that he made on the first day of school...."What's your friend's name, honey?" asked Mimi. "His name is Sandacker."

Sandacker! That's fucking gold. Am I lying? No. Did this individual have a name that resembled something of the Black and Decker tool line?  Yes. Now, whenever I meet a black guy named Sean, or a black girl named Chelsea...I discredit them immediately and inform them their parents should have tried harder and move on with my life in search of Shawn'quacks and Kashieras. 

What the fuck was I talking about?

Oh yea...younger Omar was an explorer. I used to catch myself thinking..."How many other people in the world at this exact moment are cracking their big toe knuckle like I am?"...."How many other people in the world at this exact moment are rubbing their teeth dry with their finger and resting the top lip high on the teeth to look like a freak like I am?"....You can only imagine when a young boy hits puberty and starts "exploring" parts of their body late at night and thinks "I wonder how many other guys in the world are....?" The answer was and is always around 75% of them are. Every minute on earth is in some way the world's largest circle jerk. 

I now live on the opposite side of the US from where I grew up. I have come to realize that everyone I met has a twin somewhere in the world. And that twin has a twin somewhere else in the world. Not in looks (although also in looks) but in personality. The mannerisms, the laughs, the expressions. It is rare that I meet someone that strikes 0 resemblance to someone else...but when I do...it is safe to assume that I haven't met that person's twin yet. No one's original. 

My grammar not good, my spelling sucks dik, but I think Imma start writing some blogs. Until I get bored. I get bored easily. I'd be surprised if I even finish writing this sen