For Lent, I’m giving up Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat. It’s going to be a rough 46 days for me (Or however long Lent is). I talk about it in my video, where I also talk about someone stealing my SIM card from my phone (jerk), and a new song called #Selfie that I heard on the radio that was so horrible my ear buds wanted to die. Some may say it was #horrible.
You know what. Just watch the dang vid.
We live in a wonderful world. A world where you do whatever you want to do, see whatever you want to see, and be whoever you want to be.
Which is exactly what I’m doing. Because I’m not who I say I am.
My name is Thomas Kindmoore. At least that’s who you think I am. But not really. The only truthful thing about my name is my first name. My first name actually is Thomas. I didn’t want it to get confusing when I was making my alias, so I decided just to stick with God-given first name. But my last name isn’t Kindmoore. It’s a fake name I created one day when I was thinking about my teacher. Her name was Ms Moore. I have to thank her for helping me with my name. Because I combined Kind with Moore and got Kindmoore. I thought it was a nice little name. At first I was going to call myself Frogger Blogger, but then after a while I hated that name, so I decided I needed something better. When I thought of Thomas Kindmoore, that became my name on the Internets. But now you may be asking,
Two reasons. One, my mother. She was concerned about my safety on the internet. She knows about all of the creepy weirdos on their that would love an innocent kid like to me. For a while she wouldn’t even let me use my first name, which I thought was kind of dumb because there are about a million Thomas’ out there. The second reason was I wanted to separate the actual Thomas from the Internet Thomas. Because if someone from my school saw that I had a blog and a YouTube and all of that… well that wouldn’t be good for Actual Thomas. Having a blog isn’t the biggest source of masculinity. And I’m not ashamed of my blog. I just want somewhere where I can be… real. It’s ironic. The fake version of myself is more real than my real myself. Because in real life I have to be careful what I say. I don’t want to make myself look like an idiot or a nerd. I don’t want people calling me gay. So usually I have to act a little bit… not me. I don’t act like I love Pokemon and poetry at school in front of my classmates. If I did that, then I would be called gay until after high school. So I carefully plan what I say so I’m not ridiculed. But here, I can say whatever I want. I can act as nerdy I want without people calling me nerd or gay. And it’s awesome. Sometimes I rather be Thomas Kindmoore than Actual Thomas. Because then I wouldn’t be socially awkward at my school and be able to say whatever I wanted. But unfortunately we still don’t live in a world where people can like video games and poetry and not football and rap and not be harassed about it.
Hey guys. I’m going to be doing some live streaming on Twitch TV late tonight.
It will be at 11PM CST. We will be playing some PS4 games. And it will be a party. Except it won’t.
Hello. Right now I’m sipping on a Starbucks Tall Salted Caramel Frappacino while contemplating that I might die in a few hours.
I don’t usually contemplate my death. I’m not a weirdo. But the reason I chose now to do it is because I’m about to board a plane to California. I actually really like planes. To me, airports are pretty cool, and being on planes are exciting. I mean, I can be watching X-Files while 30,000 meters of the ground. You can’t regularly do that. But I know that you can also die while up 30,000 meters of the ground. I’ve seen enough news stories about airplanes crashes to keep me cautious. Cautious enough where I’m scared the whole plane ride, but cautious enough where I’m like, "I might die today."
I’m well aware that the pilots are trained professionals. They have gone to flight school and everything, and that they know perfectly well what they are doing. But still. What if something malfunctions? What if a bird gets sucked into the engine? These things happen. And they might happen on my plane.
Now as I said, I’m not too worried. Chances are that I’ll be perfectly fine and won’t die inside 100 pounds of steel. But still, I think of my death. I look back to my life and ask, What if I died today? What will people remember me by? I mean, I’m only fourteen. The only highlight of my short life is that I once won a contest on a magazine. That’s it.
No one expects a boy to do anything special in the 14 years he’s been alive. But I wonder how people will remember me by when I die.
See. This is what happens when you start contemplating your death. You ask philosophical questions about your life.
So most likely, I’ll be fine. But if I’m not, this will be the last thing I’ll ever say. I feel like I should say something for important and special for people to remember me by. The only think I can think of is this.
Mom, before we left to go to the airport, I used your bathroom and I misfired. A lot. Sorry your bathroom smells like piss.