Chubbs, Flints and Razzers

Answer this question. A woman goes to her mother's funeral and meets the man of her dreams. Unfortunately she doesn't get his number or anything so she can't contact him at all. A few days later she killed her sister. Why?
Your answer may reveal a lot about you.

Another question. If a LAZER pointer is a continuous beam of light, why can you draw a line with it? Does your hand move faster than the speed of light? Why is it?

Books: How to Talk More Gooder Fastly (the Redneck Dictionary III), Attack of the Unsinkable Rubber Ducks, The Android's Dream, and One Big Damn Puzzler.

DVDs: Um... 300, Speed, Starsky and Hutch, Snakes on a Plane, The X-files (seasons 1 and 2), Ping-Pong, Die Hard (1 through 3), The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert... I forget. That's for everyone, mind, not just me.

Other: Well... Several T-shirts with Engrish sayings (This Is Not Here), a little Dalmatian, nine angels, a LAZER pointer, a Nightwish cd, a memory whatsit... and more.

But what did I give? A Jazz cd. A pair of earrings. A book about art. A movie about Japanese ping-pong. A little turtle. A fish. And a completely original song. It seems unfair.

I finally finished A Clockwork Orange. It was... strange. I found it interesting that even though the main character was clearly the "bad guy", it was easy to emphasize with him. I think it was the knowledge that the rest of the world as he saw it was even worse, just in a different way. Maybe I feel in some ways I can relate. What I liked most about it, though, was the comparison between the original gang members at the end of the book. You can kill them, you can hire them, you can turn them into clockwork oranges, but if you leave them alone - without pressure, without suffering - then they make their own way in life. And they may well turn out all right. Maybe I can learn from that.

The answer is she hoped the man would be at her sister's funeral.
This question has been asked to several serial killers. They most frequently gave the correct answer. If you got the question right...

North of Fourth and south of the mouth

Things are looking great.

The tree is sparkly, the snow... is, the great sprout-eating contest is getting closer and closer by the second. Presents wrapped; there's a [secret] for my brother, a [also secret] for my dad, AND a [would you believe it? secret] for my mom. For my beloved, [seriously, you would not believe how secret this is]. The Weebl and Bob Christmas special is here - it's loading as I speak. The latest version of IWBTG has come out. Everything is looking fantastic.

I've also got the sweeping and laundry to do, but never mind eh.

I've officially started a time-lapse project. I take a photo of something every day and watch as it changes slowly over time. This could go on for months or even years. The subject? Me, of course! It's going to be interesting to see how this develops.




In other news, my camera is acting weird. The FinePixViewer screen is up, but no matter what buttons I press it won't do anything. How bizarre. Bizarre...



When even butterflies cannot be trusted...

When the blue skies call out your name...

When everything we've made is rusted...

And the world goes up in flames...

Just a little muse.



I forget if I've posted this before:


So much to say, yet so much to do, and the world needs whitening...

31

Looking for payday loan?

56%

Looking for payday loans?

Little Kuriboh makes me laugh

Today I am going to attempt... the unattemptable.
I'm going to try to put a youtube video on my blog.
I've seen it done before. I don't know how, but I'm going to work it out. I will. No hints, now. I will... I will...

*sets off on quest to put video on blog*



*later*

...okay. Now to cross my fingers and hope this works.

Blogging officially semi-daily

...okay. Wow. Just saw There's Something About Mary, and I may never recover. I'm disgusted, appalled, and several other words along the same lines. That was frighteningly painful. Painful painful to watch. "Hey, is that hair gel?" I will never forget that as long as I live. And the fishing scene... it's almost as bad as the episode of Coupling where she's blindfolded the guy and takes him into this room on his birthday and he gets really excited and takes off all his clothes, then his mother says "Oh, Jeffrey!" and he takes off the blindfold to see all the office staff, all his friends, and his parents all staring at him. Ouch. Just... ouch.
Absolutely hilarious, mind.


This is really nerve-wracking. (I wonder if that's really a word? I know I've heard- um, anyway,) I'm uploading a video, it's 58M with 15M finished, it's 9:51 and Cyberpatrol cuts off my internet in just a few minutes. If it doesn't load fast enough I'll have no choice to cut it off and post without it. 9:52... come on...

Okay. I feel as though a huge window has opened up in my physicality. I'm... I don't know how to describe it exactly. Elated? Kind of... disconnected. I don't know. I'm sure if I wasn't feeling so completely paranoid about the whole thing I'd be ecstatic. Mind you, Skeleton is going to flay me alive. What does flay even mean? Also, I wonder what Jim thinks. If Jim thinks. He's reading this over my shoulder right now. I think; I'm not really concentrating so it's hard to tell. You have to wonder. You know, "delusions" like this are considered signs of madness. Maybe all cases of insanity are just people experiencing alter-earth perceptions? Hard to say.

35M... come on...

*The Next Day*

Great. Just perfect. One and half minutes to go and the thing completely freezes up on me. What am I going to do with this? Blogger is so unreliable...

This is a song I wrote for Ella last year. I just need to get it off my chest.

It all began so simply
As we knew just how we feel
But now the world will tell us
That our love was never real
Children no longer innocent
Advise what we should do
Because of them relationships
Are rarely strong or true

It's now a statement of fact
That all affection's an act
True love is
Made of lust, and pixie dust
There's no one left for you to trust
And if we are to fight this lie
We'll never live if we can't try
We have to make them ask the question why

Now strangers and relations
Rain down praises from above
They think we're having sex when
All we've ever shared is love
The world no longer trusts us
To respect our fragile lives
They know that our decaying souls
Ensure no one survives

And even now I start to doubt
What this love truly is about
I trust but
Me and you? Can this be true? Do you feel the same as I do?
But those who trust are not alone
We'll turn the adolescent throne
There's no one here who should be left alone

There's no more now that can be said
And no more left to find
Though tender words like “girlfriend”
Sear across my weary mind
The time has passed for justice
To the truth we have to cling
That's why I pour my heart out
In this song that I can't sing

Society is binding me
But the world can't tear us apart!

...okay. The stupid video quit on me again. I'm just going to leave it.

Lux Mortis

Leave me alone, Jim. Please.
Watching me or watching over me? I don't know which is worse.

A lot of work to do tonight. A lot a lot.

The test confirmed it. Links can be broken. Mental bonds, formed willingly or no. Part of me stays in everyone I touch. It's a huge weight off my mind that these are not permanent. There are some people I don't want to be connected to forever.

That bruise was huge. I don't know. I couldn't get the whole thing, but I felt the moment of impact; the rush, the loss, the dawning hysteria before the moment died. I felt everything breaking around me and the pain of having survived. I felt the coldness and the stunned silence. It's an imperfect reconstruction, but I understand what you went through. I'm so sorry.

I don't know what I would do if I was alone. I'd probably become a total recluse. It would be days before I would speak to anyone. I would start compulsively scratching my arms with anything that came to hand. Eventually they'd try to put me back to work. Around lunch I'd disappear. They'd eventually find me collapsed, face-down in the snow in the middle of the field. I'd be brought inside and a kind but clueless councillor would try to coax me out of my sullen huddle. I would only glare. The next day I would be gone. I would take Fuzzy and just start walking. Maybe they would find me again. Maybe I would just disappear. Maybe I would surface days later, frozen to death on a street somewhere. Maybe I'd be found and brought back to face the wrath of everyone who knew me. Maybe I would meet a new friend and start a new life on the street. Maybe Jim would finally step in. At least I would have Fuzzy. Maybe then it wouldn't be as unbearable. I know I wouldn't go back. If they tried to catch me I'd tear them apart with my teeth. They'd tie me up and drag me, kicking and screaming like the animal I am, to the nearest psyche ward. For a while I would communicate only in garbled writing, then would eventually shut down completely. Never to speak again.

I think I need a hug.

The project is silly. I'm neither an introvert nor an extrovert. I'm a mezzovert, posing as an introvert. Presumably there's another level on the complete opposite side of the spectrum, but I'm in no position to study it. The whole thing is silly. I've known who I am for years.

Flipflip flippity flipflipflip, I'm downside-up and perpendicular to the world...

Okay. First off, I'm having with the extreme hatingness of this cyberpatrol system. Specifically, the 9:30 cutoff. I've been blocked from posting on this blog at the last minute several times over.

I told a story. My story. Wish I could remember how it went. They laughed. I appreciate that. Everyone said "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!" when I mentioned I had found someone to love. People do tend to say that a lot. I wonder why.

Everyone seems relieved that I'm not dead. Strange. I never actually mentioned suicide... of course, death holds no fears for me. I guess it would upset most people. Anyway, I'm not dead. Nothing happened. I almost wish people had made more of a fuss... but I'm not a drama queen.

Live Free or Die Hard was probably one of the best action movies I've seen in a long time. The Golden Compass had a lot of potential, but just wasted it.

It's funny how I've always got so much to say in life, but then go online and find nothing to write in my blog. Also I'm getting embarrassed that a certain someone appears to be writing every day. I've been somewhat neglecting that.

And for no real reason, here's the first episode of my best guilty pleasure yet: a pointless yet strangely amusing satire. No... satire sounds too sophisticated.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmVGQR3NNdg

In this town! Don't we love it now...

Wannabe dark days? If you can be insecure about security and secure about insecurity I guess anything is possible.

I don't care what she says. No one can call this sanity. I'm paranoid, possibly delusional, maybe even have a major disorder. I'm completely detached from reality. Nothing makes sense to me, and everything that shouldn't make sense does. I see logic as debatable and facts as the shields of the weak. When I'm angry I make monsters to smash things. I try to see into the future, the minds and souls of those around me, and even the fifth dimension. I get the feeling that a thing that can't be seen is calling me to something. It used to be an annoyance. Now when I sense it in public it scares me. Some times I'm so scared, nothing makes sense and I'm so scared...

And now I can feel myself slipping. It's only a matter of time now. Only a matter of time. Who knows? Maybe I'll die tonight.

A song about pork

Milo is downstairs now. I suppose it's better for everyone this way. No more ticking noises from his timers, more space on the desk, don't have to worry about light, easier to feed him, curtains, etc etc. And he's still my lizard, no one elses. Still though... awwwww!!!

My throat was slit. Even though I was unconscious my hand leaped to my neck and I began to thrash around, falling to the floor and writing uncontrollably until I came, twitching, to a stop. The girls screamed. Holly lay where I left her on the couch. I don't know who was holding the knife at the time. My eyes were closed. I can't believe Riley was responsible for it. At least he burned along with the others.

Let's see... That's Duke, Sky, his girlfriend, Mr. Turner, Bryan the bounty hunter, that girl, Dr. Frank, Lola, Alfonso and Albert dead. Nikki, Pete, emo guy, emo girl, Rose, Dr. Penguin, Phil and that guy's sister fall in love. The wedding planner has been knocked out, Bob and Joe think they're murdered three people, the baseball player has been arrested because of his two daughters, and the detective has mysteriously vanished... hmm...

A song about pork (from Weebls-stuff.com):

Pork! It's the meat of kings,
It's made from pig dried with onion rings
Pork sure goes with everything
Cause it's made from swine
That's why it sure tastes fine
Just bring some to the picnic baby
You know you want to stuff it in my hamper
But please put it in some tupperware
Cause I don't want to be a porky chap
Let's talk about pork, converse about meat
Veggies need wedgies cause meat can't be beat!
Ham ham bacon you should taste them
I know it's surprising but it's so appetizing!

There seems to be an annoying double-space feature here that I don't know how to turn off.

As someone said: Save energy. Shower with your girlfriend XD

Nothing to say today

Skreeakch! Inflamed arm and ice angel

This stupid thing cuts me off at 9:30 instead of 10:00 for some reason. Since I've run out of time, I'll be posting today's post tomorrow.

K. This video is taking forever to upload. Instead, have an AMV I found.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYG55UH0hxc

I still don't know what AMV stands for. Animated Music Video? Makes sense.

Ana and Kata are the two fourth-dimensional cardinal directions. Left, right, up, down, forward, backward, ana and kata. They're also the names of my lead characters in the play I'm writing. Ana and Kata (not necessarily a love story) stars Annie AKA Ana and Kate AKA Kata, two sisters. There's something not quite right about them. Other than that, my ideas have somewhat run dry. I need inspiration.

Today has been a Hot day. I have Hot days and Cold days. Neither is particularly better than the other by definition. Hot days are fast-paced, dramatic and full of energy, while Cold days are slow, meticulous and emotional. It's been awhile since the last Hot day.

Here's the story so far:

Two heartbroken characters (slightly stalkerish) are attending a support group for the brokenhearted in the somewhat vain hope that their loves will be looking for them there, despite not having seen or heard from them in three/seven years respectively. They are both so anxious they arrive half an hour early. Dr. Frank, whom the surgeon has previously operated on, suggests that the two go out for coffee together.

Meanwhile, at Pete's Coffee, a pretty girl has walked in and ordered a hot chocolate. The CEO of a local company strolls in, gets some coffee, and tried to make small talk. Pete, the owner of the coffeeshop, is also attracted to the pretty girl and sits directly between them. The pair begin arguing over who is the better man, ending with the CEO insulting his coffee and then pouring it over Pete's head. Pete retaliates. The pair agree to go outside and fight.

Rose, a surly teenager trying to annoy her mother, has a date with a guy in a penguin suit. He wears it because he works at the zoo, and it's kind of become part of who he is. Rose is at first shocked, but soon warms to the idea of a penguin suit (her mother will be horrified). So, she quickly invites him home to meet her parents. They get into his special penguin car, borrowed from the zoo just for the occasion, and start driving. Feeling romantic, penguin suit guy puts his arm around Rose, but she stops him by putting out her cigarette on his suit leg. Unfortunately the suit catches fire, followed by the entire car.

An undercover detective is interviewing a model, Lola, for a photoshoot for Vogue magasine. He suspects her to be a Black Widow, a seductress who murders her boyfriends one after the other. As the interview progresses he becomes more and more uncomfortable and Lola becomes more and more, shall we say, physical.

Meanwhile, two musclemen, Bob and Joe, are working out in the gym and talking about the clubs they're going to tonight. Joe tries to lift a particularly heavy weight, but almost drops it on his neck. Bob detects something strange about the weight, specifically "it smells like that girl I dated last night." They decide to inspect the surveillance videos for the gym. There they discover a video of Lola doing something to the weight.

Two goth teenagers are sitting in a basement. One lives there, the other works at a funeral home. They've put videos of themselves on a dating website, just to see what will happen. Suddenly, a message pops up, telling them that a perfect match has been found. Guess what? They're the matches for each other.

A grubby beer-drinking bounty hunter is visiting a gun show. He's been given the task of killing Duke Ironbolt, and he needs a gun to do it. A surly girl tells him she can get him the one he needs, but it'll be expensive. They agree to split the money he gets from killing Duke.

Not too far away, Duke is visiting his extremely rich father, who is cruising a dating website. When Duke inquires how the clock shop is doing, his father tells him he's left it all to his brother. Enraged (or at least mildly annoyed), Duke spots the woman his father's talking to on the dating website and decides to get his revenge by stealing her heart. The two set off to visit her.
Meanwhile, the girl in question and her boyfriend are plotting how they're going to steal this old man's fortunes by seducing him over a dating website. The boyfriend, Sky, is unhappy about her lack of commitment to him, but decides to hold on for the money.

Alfonso, the Spanish bodyguard and butcher, is planning a wedding for himself. He's instructed his inept wedding planner and his reluctant assistant to find him a bride for Friday - or else. Desperate, the unlucky pair go to force the planner's sister to fall in love with Alfonso.
A famous baseball player receives a note from a girl telling him to meet her at the train station. Once there, he finds her to be a fourteen-year-old girl. After being shot several times by the peanut gallery he tries to leave, until she reveals herself to be his daughter from Alabama. He is surprised, then decides to take the girl and her sister to a baseball game to make up for the past fourteen years.

I think that's everyone...

Crazy or impaired? as if you ever cared

Last night I had spasms again. I was near sleep. It's been a long time since I used to have them. This one scared me. Twisting, writhing, moaning as though in agony, though to my knowledge there was no reason for it. No reason at all. Maybe it's just a seasonal thing; I last had them around this time last year.

I feel lost. All around me are familiar faces, worn out places, worn out faces...

The other day I felt the mist of thought. At least that's what I thought it was. I felt like I could see the ripples people make in reality, like waves of water flowing through cream. I moved my fingers and felt my own patterns change. Then I looked around and saw everyone, everything, and the complexities of the worldwide pattern made me feel faint. Even the contents of a single room is enough to overwhelm me. I guess there's a reason humans on the whole can't sense these things; it's too much for out 3-dimensional, single-plane minds to handle.

Also, I've got an idea for a play. Or at least the start. Or middle. We'll see how it goes.

I've been reminded of this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0RAKVjFKRc

No white rabbits, but never mind eh?

Grace like Rain, Eyes like Hail

I have a serious craving for some popadons right now.

I've been playing far too much IWBTG. It's six now and I've done less than half my work. I've taken procrastination to an art form. No sleep tonight, I see...

That, and I think my love is sad again. Another crazy poem, the kind when you can't quite tell whether it's a poem or a rant. Kind of like another Scream of the Empath. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I wish we could just be happy. Sometimes I feel like achieving happiness is impossible and I just want to go all crazy-emo and slash my skin until there's nothing left to feel the pain anymore... but that's not an option. I must now force myself to listen to a happy song until I cheer up. One in particular springs to mind...

Or maybe I'll write a happy song. I don't know.

I wonder how I'll be remembered in life.

Rise of the underwhatsit

I've decided on a name for my new Drama character. He's going to be called Duke Ironbolt. Not only am I doing a change from female characters, but for once I'm playing a real high-status go-getter with a "way" with the ladies. I've been looking forward to playing someone like this for ages.

Chris and I are finally going to learn to play Warhammer. Maybe sometime I'll actually finish the models I've got lying around. I'm not actually that good a painter - even Chris is better than me - but I stand by my conviction that I'm the best strategist by far. I play the Tyranids, whose motto, if they had one, would be "strength in numbers". With a few more sets of Gaunts I'll be unstoppable. Actually what I really need are Zoanthropes. They can take down a tank with a single Warp Blast power. Then I'll be truly unstoppable. Chris, by comparison, plays the Chaos Space Marines, who are much fewer in number but are much stronger than any of my Tyranids. I have a feeling he's not going to make this easy for me...

In other news, I'm blogging, minesweeping, and IWannaBeTheGuy-ing when I should be doing homework. Maybe I'll go practice the piano. Yeah.

Cherries don't fall up

Well. I have some good news and some bad news.

The bad news is that I now have a restriction on when I can access the internet. I can't view any web pages after 10:00. Harsh? I guess it makes sense after my 3:00 stint the other night. Well, easy come, easy go.

But the good news is... I now have some footage of actual gameplay (my gameplay) of I Wanna Be The Guy, the hardest game on the internet! If this works, I'll start starting my posts with one of the clips I've made. I assure you, quality will improve. Unfortunately I don't think it's possible to have more than one video per post. Still though! Prepare yourself for adventure and excitement like none before!

Note: I did not make IWBTG. I downloaded it from http://kayin.pyoko.org/iwbtg/ . I assure you the download is safe, even if it slows up your computer for awhile. It's also a work in progress, so if you're interested be sure to check for updates.

EDIT: Wow, these things take a long time to load. This had better be worth it.

ANOTHER EDIT: You'll probably want to turn the volume up. I'm working on that as well.

Most excelent and not at all heinous

Science seems to be the best time to write. I wonder why.

Honeysuckle dreams of darkness and teeth
but no time for that now.

Cornsilver laughs as the seeds of the dandelions blow in the wind
it was him who ripped them out

Tigerlilly prowls in the shadows of the potted plants
stalking her food but with no teeth to eat it

Weeping Willow wails as he traces the water
dragging the world down to an untimely grave

Clementine bounces in the singing sunlight
skipping and laughing in the heat of play

Sparrowgrass watches as the sun spins round him
safe in the dark of the timeless ground

I watch the little demons play in the fading light
before I too succumb to darkness

Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow

http://uncyclopedia.org/wiki/Laws_of_Anime_Physics

There are times when I wish I was a superhero. Even one like Dragon Ball Z. Just to be full of so much energy that it explodes off of you in waves. That would be incredible. And the ability to fly, and make beams of energy fly out of my hands, and teleport, and save the world. I think everyone dreams of being a superhero sometimes.
But how many people actually have these abilities? none. People can do strange things, but no one can fly, or has super strength, or is truly psychic, or anything. We have powers, just not superpowers. Much as we dream of it, no one can physically do anything to single-handedly change the world.

In light of this newly-remembered dream, it's time to take stock of what powers I do have.

1. The ability to think in five dimensions (four spatial and time or five spatial)

2. The ability to sense auras

3. The ability to write

4. The ability to see all issues from every viewpoint

5. The ability to communicate internally

6. The ability to toast waffles

7. The ability to comprehend mezzophysics and the three planes of reality

8. The ability to wear someone elses face

9. The ability to soulshatter

Some of these probably require some explanation.

First, the five dimensions. Thinking in three dimensions is simply a habit we get into, like thinking in a decimal system of numbers. (That's base 10.) If you can switch your understanding of numbers to dodecimal, base 12, you have the potential to think in more dimensions. I can only picture it temporarily before switching back to decimal, but the fact that I understand the concept opens up my mind a huge amount. After that it's a simple matter of mentally designing a hypercube, then a pentacube, and then taking it from there.

Auras are emanated from every living creature, and a few nonliving. People, having souls, have the strongest, but anything that emotion can be passed onto in any way can retain an aura for an indefinite amount of time. Pets, trees, stuffed animals, even buildings can all become hosts for drifting fragments of auras. This is why some houses can become haunted, or some nonliving things can take on semblance of life; although this is very complex and not really worth getting into right now.

My previous posts explain mezzophysics fairly well, I think.

To wear someone's face is a metaphor. Obviously. This is what some may call astral projection, but I prefer to think of it as soulriding. Basically I concentrate on a person's aura until I feel it fill me, carry me, and then I ride along it until I arrive at the persons body. You could call this getting under their skin. While I still occupy my body, I also sense secondary senses, thoughts and feelings in the back of my mind. I refer to it as wearing someone's face because everyones' face feels different compared to my own. You don't notice until you've tried wearing someone elses'.

Soulshattering is a fairly new concept. It is in simple terms a psychic blast (an energy beam, if you will) that may or may not interfere with other auras. It's speculated that if concentrated in the right way it could permanently cripple a soul; although this is purely hypothetical, and in any case impossible to test.

Quote of the Day:
People is people, just as pigs is pigs; even more so, pigs not always being what one expects these days.

Nine

"Look," said I, "I refuse to believe that you exist."
The being stood perfectly still, not speaking; or if it was speaking, I had no way of understanding it.
"I'm just not going to put up with it, okay?" I continued. "The more I think about you, the more I end up contradicting myself. I can't even see you, there's no evidence whatsoever that you exist, nothing that would stand up in court." Although, I thought to myself, nothing much stands up in court these days.
With a faint sigh I turned my head and scanned my eyes over the spot where I sensed the being to be. "Leave me alone, okay?" I whispered. "I don't know what you want, but I can't help you. We have no way of communicating, you might not even exist. I just can't help you. Just go away." I felt a pang of loss and regret that I wasn't sure was mine. Mentally I lit a cigarette. "I'm sorry to be a loss."

That's a summation of a conversation I had in the basement this evening.
You want some sort of explanation for it? The world would have me believe I'm delusional, insane, paranoid. I don't want to believe that. I also don't want to thing I have some sort of mental power or ability. I can sense auras, I don't deny that, but I'm avoiding anything to do with the paranormal. Mezzonormal I can cope with, but the Planes can't vivisect one another. That defies both scientific and theoretical logic. And I don't really want to draw much attention to this. What is it? I'm not communicating with alt-earth entities. All I'm saying is I'm sensing beings with soul-patterns I don't recognise when there's no one there.

Yes, there was that time I met Satan. That was an experience that will haunt me for the rest of my life. But this was... different. It just was. It just was, okay?

Quote of the day:
You're allowed to have as many dimensions as you want, so long as they don't have anything to do with ghosts, telepathy, anything that fucks with Charles Darwin, or anything that Hitler liked (apart from Charles Darwin).

-The End of Mr. Y

AND

The random video of the week(ish):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTtxTvfGUwI

A walk of right turns and a drive of left

My keyboard is cold.

It's strange. The whole time I never felt hungry. There was a bit of an empty feeling, but I've felt far hungrier before in my life. Also the feeling of having drank too much water. Much too much. Much much much. If anyone shows me another water bottle I'm going to be sick.

The potluck was good though. Unsurprisingly, there were about six different kinds of brownies. I ate a piece of cheese, three grapes, a bread roll, two meatballs, a brownie, macaroni and cheese, one chicken nugget, two different chicken nuggets, two cookies (one chocolate and one caramel) and a kind of squidgy pouch thing that I couldn't really work out what it was, but I ate it anyway. Before that we passed the time playing icebreaker games and complaining about how hungry we were. It says alot about how spoiled our country is that we can't last even a couple of days without food.

We also watched this movie about child labor. It talked about how children are sold into slavery, abused and mistreated, and not even paid for it. There was a brick kiln where children were born, raised, and worked until they died, without ever leaving the area. Some girls were kidnapped off the street and sold as cheap sex slaves. Makes you wonder. Groups of people would go on raids to liberate children and return them to their families.

We also did this activity where we planned a menu for ten people for an entire week with a budget of 700 rupees. That's about twelve dollars. No one could work out how to buy enough to feed a family. Then we learned that most families have a budget half of what we had to work with. Tis sad.

I hope the sandwich under the hat was nice.

Bloody fingers

K. The level of trust we have now is getting into the extremes...

Nerves are at the end. Just so you know.

And according to the Captain, aliens have landed. They live in computers. And when a project is due tomorrow, they sneakily, cleverly, evilly, DELETE YOUR FILES!!! HA HA HA!!! So if a project is late, it's because of the aliens. That explains everything. The conversations we have in careers are getting very peculiar.

I'm almost certain what quote I want.


!: Nobody's perfect... well, there was this one guy, but we killed him.

@: The major problem - one of the major problems, for there are several - one of the major problems with governing people is that of who you get to do it; or rather of who manages to get people to let them do it to them. To summarize: it is a well-known fact, that those people who want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarize the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job. To summarize the summary of the summary: people are a problem.


#: A googol is precisely as far from infinity as is the number one." - Carl Sagan, Cosmos

$: There comes a time when a man must choose between the right thing to do and the wrong thing to do, and he only ever misses by one.

%: Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming WOO HOO WHAT A RIDE!.

^: In the struggle between good and evil it is usually the night that benefits most.~Vigilia

&: There's no point crying over every mistake, you just keep on trying till you run out of cake.

*: Gee Brain, what do you want to do tonight?
The same thing we do every night, Pinky: try to take over the world!

The best hugs

It's an irony, isn't it?
I should update earlier in the day. There's no point talking about my thoughts if no one's going to read them until tomorrow.

Mad World redux

Chris didn't understand Donnie Darko. I didn't expect him to. The director's cut changed it a lot.

And speaking of cuts...

We all have our forms of self-mutilation, whether on skin, on paper, or on the faces of others. I'm not sad at the moment. Not depressed at all. I'd just prefer to have my wounds where I can see them, where I know that they will heal. But the world doesn't want me to do that. It's sad; everyone wants what's best for me, regardless of whether it's right for me.

I haven't cut myself. But I'm severely tempted.

Love, Fear, Arrogance, Submission, Good, Evil, Pleasure, Pain, Joy and Despair... What does it all mean? Kefka was right. Life... hope... dreams... Where did they come from? And where are they going?

I may have found Prophet and Whisk. I don't know for sure yet. If they are real, it's really going to complicate things... I won't know what to call myself anymore. Seven won't be appropriate. Ninefold? I don't know. Seven just sounds better. But then, maybe it's time for me to move on.

Two pieces of a puzzle, together at last. A perfect fit, a perfect match, forming two halves of a person's face. It could not be better. Congratulations! Only 4998 pieces to go.

For Us the Bells Toll

There are no heroes anymore. None. There is no one left for us to look up to. The world is too large, and its people are too small. Religion is publicly denied, our leaders are hated with great malice, our wars are no longer worth fighting. In this age we have to make our own heroes. That is the answer to my question, at least for me: Who is Mantai? Mantai is my idea of a hero.

I hope we are living in the End Times. I cannot see us diminishing more than we already are. What is this we call "progress?" Right now a child is being born. Right now someone is reaching orgasm. Right now someone's life is changing forever. Right now someone is falling in love. Right now someone has finished a book. Right now someone has stepped in something sticky. Right now a cat is eating a fish. Right now someone is cradling a bleeding hand. Right now, someone is dying. Right now someone is at the point of death. Right now someone is in mortal agony. Right now someone is cutting her own wrist. Right now the world is in pain. I try not to think about it. I don't always succeed.

Time travel isn't nearly as complex as people make it out to be. We know that wormholes exist; microscopic ones are appearing constantly within the atmosphere. If we can create a stable one there's no reason why we shouldn't be able to travel between past and future. And what then? People will go back. Can history be changed? That is up to them. Let me explain. The Universe has a natural order. If someone is meant to go back in time, then they become part of the natural cycle, and whatever they may believe they are doing ultimately everything will fall into place exactly as it should be. However, if someone goes into the past and intentionally acts on their knowledge to ensure that something does not happen, creating a paradox, then the entire course of history from that point onwards will be changed. The person or people involved will continue to exist as anomalies within the timeline, ultimately becoming part of the new order. It is possible, and in fact likely, that people exist within this timeline who returned from the future and inadvertently prevented their own return, perhaps even stopping them from ever existing. Do you follow? People exist who would have been born if they had not prevented themselves from being born. Anomalies.

I can't stop comparing my life to an RPG. I've even made plans for the Sevenfold RPG, which takes place within a warped version of the Rooms. It stars the Seven (no surprise there) with some cameo appearances by the Ice Angel, Iox, and even the enigmatic Flex as the final boss. The story revolves around "World". Throughout the characters must find ways to interact, solve bizarre puzzles, and fight... things. The objective of the game seems to be to reach Haven, a mysterious Heaven-like place which may be an actual location, a state of mind, or even a concept. Most of the game revolves around swapping between the three planes of existence: the Physical world, the Conceptual world, and the Otherworld. The Physical world is "normal" in which the characters are human and comparatively uncomplicated objectives are given. The Mental world differs greatly depending on which character is in play. It shifts constantly based on a wide variety of factors. Several "mind powers" may be used, though each comes with a cost. The Mental world may be described as not what is actually there, merely what we perceive it to be. The Otherworld may be best described as a dreamlike state. Here World is actually replicated seven times and warped, twisted, and then connected to form the Rooms. The most difficult part of this switching concept is that the character still exists on all three planes at once, so anything you do on one plane will affect the other two. This is obviously extremely complex, which is the main reason I haven't finished it yet.

Chocolate and/or cheesecake... hmmm...

THIS!

IS!

SPARTAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think I'm okay.

As I expected, Chris hit the roof when he heard I'd seen Saw. He keeps making arguments about how it's not fair that I get to see it when he doesn't. Not that I would have been allowed to see it anyway... technically... but no one seems too concerned about it. I'm not exactly scarred for life. If I have nightmares now, I'll let you know.

This could be a song title

Curled up across two chairs, a pat on the head, music all around, quiet inside. I dreamed.

Dust. A teardrop fell, falling from the heavens or so it seemed. As it landed a shockwave rose around it. So small it seemed. Then, a rush of perspectives, and I was the ant watching as all I owned was swept away. With a sigh I took out my umbrella, my lawn chair, and my clipboard. I began to sketch my new house. Then a gust of wind blew the board over, and sideways what I had drawn spelled out GOD. I sigh and look around. In the distance are other ants, forming a rough ring around me. One side gets closer and closer, while the other gets farther and farther away. I turned to the close side, shrugged, and gave them my clipboard and lawn chair. Then I plucked up my umbrella and stared at it for several seconds. With a gasp I plunge it through the middle of my body. The other ants quickly pull it away from me, snap off the pointy end, then plant it in the ground and lay me to rest in the shade. Just then a second tear drop falls and everything but the ants under the umbrella are washed away. We all looked at each other, shrugged, and left.

Argon maryth

The sign-in thing for this blog is really starting to annoy me. It keeps signing me out unexpectedly. That and no matter how many times I click the "Remember me?" button, it never does. So I have to type it all in every time. Grr.

It started with a little ache. Just a twinge on my back. Then, as I was walking along, it suddenly twisted itself into a knot. I don't know if you've ever had a knotted muscle on your back, but it's painful. I compared it at the time to having been filled with glue and left to harden. No matter how you turn it's either being compressed or stretched, and either way it's cracking. The word AGONY springs to mind. Walking was difficult. Then, unbearably slowly, the pain crawled up my back, right through my arm and onto my chest. It was like fire was moving over me... without the heat. Or the fire, for that matter. It stayed there a while, compressing my lungs, forcing me to gasp for air. Then it stabbed straight through the middle of my heart. Right now it's sort of spread out over my whole left side. Muscle spasm? Heart attack? Nanodestroyers? Demons? CIA? Mezzodrills? Or something even stranger?

I've definitely got Beast and the Harlot stuck in my head now.

Ivory in chains

I wondered to myself, What is the answer? But that, I realized, was a Deep-Thought paradox. What I should have been asking was, What is the question?

So this is what I came up with.

QUESTION NUMBER 1
What is the question?

QUESTION NUMBER 2
Why am I looking for an answer?

QUESTION NUMBER 3
Who is Mantai?

Question 1 is self-explanatory. Question 2 is difficult to answer without the answer to question 1. Question 3 is perhaps the most puzzling, but with a nudge in the right direction it might - just might - prove to be the most vital question of all.

Here is my Random Video of the week(ish).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6Dmg_4ZA2Y&NR=1

Minesweeper dreams

This is not a poem. Seriously, it's not.

A poem is what people call a collection of ideas that they don't quite understand. A poem is open to interpretation. A poem can change lives, if heard by the right person, but to most everyone else a poem is another cute little muse by some cute little author who can now be ignored. It's the only way we can rationalize so many meaningful thoughts and expressions crammed into so little space. For instance:

Why do people place so much importance on the least significant things?
Why do people blame their problems on events far away, a government they voted into office, and a God they don't believe in?
Why do we talk, talk endlessly about world issues but do nothing?
Why are we somehow unable to bring our enormous surplus of food to starving third-world countries, despite having every known means of transportation at our disposal?
Why do people lack empathy?
Why is there clearly so much work to do in the world, and yet there are so many people without jobs?
Why have we made countless movies, written endless books, based entire lives around the concept of love, and yet no one can give any explanation of what it actually is?
Why does my head itch?
Why do people claim to know what animals are thinking, and make decisions about how pets are supposed to live based off of that?
Why do children dream of going on adventures and saving the world, while capable adults with a sense of actual responsibility would run away at the first sign of danger?
Why is a twelve-page essay full of long words that, let's be honest here, no one really understands, written by some scientist-type person in a laboratory far, far away more valuable than the exact same thing explained by the guy you met at the bar in under thirty seconds?
Why does this generation believe that the less you are actually wearing, the better dressed you are?
Why are some hypothetical numbers you don't actually own on a computer in some other country that will never have any real impact on you or anyone around you more important than a human life?
Why can insignificant specks of dust inspire more fascination than the largest structures civilization has ever constructed?
Why is black the new white?
Why are people so eager to accept ill news while anything good in the world is ignored, forgotten or overlooked?
Why are bunnies cute?
Why is doing something for the very first time more worthy of celebration than the first time it is done perfectly, or, for that matter, right at all?
Why do people cause enormous amounts of devastation in foolish attempts to save time?
Why is making lots and lots of money more important than saving the environment, protecting people's lives, or even basic human happiness?
Why are you listening to me list question after question that no one really has any answer to?

Now, that is not a poem. It cannot be a poem. I REFUSE to let anyone call what I have just said a poem. Because anyone can listen to a poem. But if you listen expecting that you probably won't understand it... then you never will.

And that is all I have to say about that.

I don't know which is more insulting, that she called it a poem or that she expected me not to understand the joke.

If you thought the mystery was funny, you should have seen our outtakes. From before we'd learned everything. Even onstage, Jesse was still a he... sometimes. Drove us crazy. And the first time Shaun tried carrying her offstage, her skirt hitched up a bit. Well, maybe more than a bit. And the time Ellen crept off behind that kind of dividing curtain thing to change, forgetting that she was completely surrounded by windows. And Becca is still driving me CRAZY!!! because whenever she bends down, I can see down the back of her pants. There's a line of shadow where two not-exactly-unobtrusive folds of flesh meet. Need I say more? I felt like I should have told her, or something, but how? "Hey, I've been seeing down the back of your pants..." Not really going to make me popular. And I'm not staring, by the way, I just have an irritating tendency to notice things people don't want me to. So I just live with it.
In short, it was a night punctuated by girls' underwear. Bizarre. Shame about Mr. Chuckles, really.

I wonder what's going to happen to the crinkled little paper heart. Maybe it will be thumbtacked to the wall next to my business card. I'll probably never know. I'm not allowed in that room anymore.

Fifty times sharper

It started with a good mood.

People just don't understand things. If I am in a certain mood at a certain point during the day, it does not mean that that is what my character is like all the time. People always tell you how you should be feeling. If I have almost missed a bus, does that mean that I should stop being happy? Am I not allowed to be happy anymore? Does that make being happy a bad thing? Also, if a bus has been fifteen minutes late every day for the past eleven months, would it not be safe for one to assume that it will be fifteen minutes late tomorrow? And who's idea was it for me to get up at this time anyway?

And now the piling on of accusations, one after the other. It's not exactly making me feel motivated. And I, of all people, have been accused of lacking empathy! When her anger was making me clench my fists and grind my teeth in aggravation!

Well of course I'm bloody grateful, but everything loses its meaning if you're obligated to say it. I need to sleep. Not that I'm going to get any. Not tonight.

Griffin chimera perched on your shoulder

Okay, let's think about this logically here.

Picture an elephant. Picture yourself looking at the elephant. Now picture an ant. Picture yourself looking at the ant. Now picture the ant looking at the elephant. Now picture the elephant looking at the ant. Now picture the ant looking at the elephant standing on top of a skyscraper. Picture the elephant falling off of the skyscraper and getting closer and closer until it lands on top of the ant. Picture the resulting explosion. This is just a mental exercise that you're going to need to do if you want to be able to picture the diagram I'm about to illustrate.


There are two basic states of emotion, Love and Fear. There are also the sub-states, Arrogance and Submission, which rest somewhere between them and off slightly to the side. View this as a 2-dimensional figure. Now, add Good and Evil very far away from each other across the center (making it 3-dimensional). Then add Pleasure and Pain the same way. Then Joy and Despair. Yes, the figure is now 5-dimensional. I never said this would be easy.

Next, find all of your emotional extremes, as represented by colours, and place them on the diagram. For instance, Red would probably be somewhere on the Fear / Arrogance / Evil / Pleasure / Despair side, Yellow on the Love / Arrogance / Good / Pleasure / Joy side, Dark Blue on the Fear / Submission / Good / Pain / Despair side, and so forth. The exact placement of the colours depends on the person and the shade of colour chosen, but it should form a kind of 5-dimensional spiral pattern. Then locate the EXACT center of the spiral. This, on average, is who you are.

I, for the record, am fairly close to the middle, leaning towards the Fear / Arrogance / Good / Pain / Despair sides. Probably not the best combination.

More like honey than peanut butter

The missing skin on my hand is red, like an open wound. I guess it is. It would be impossible to hide now even if I wanted to. I now wear it with a hint of pride, as though it's some kind of battle scar. You can be put into therapy for self-mutilation. I'm tempted to come forth and say I knew what I was doing. Then they'd take me seriously. I stroke it from time to time, just to remind myself that it's there. Just to feel it burn.

So maybe I'm not crazy, but I definitely can't say I'm unwell. I can blame nothing for what I am. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

I can't go on living a septuple life. I know that. No one should have to. There's evil things afoot, and in the world where nothing has any meaning anymore the last thing one needs is a broken mind. I'm so tired of living a fractured life. I can never hold onto anything, never. Not a thought, not a feeling, not a memory. Not a love, not a life. Nothing. Every time I latch onto something and tell myself I'm safe I become someone else and throw it off like an old coat. I can't trust myself. I never know who I am. Religion, though, that's the big one. I'm nothing but a hypocrite. How can I bring God to other people if I only know that He's there part of the time? I can't. I can point in the right direction, but there's no guarantee I'll take it, and therein lies the absolute hopelessness of my situation. No matter what choices I make I'm guaranteed to undo them. I'm the makings of my own destruction and I know it. There's no point denying it. The worst thing you can possibly do is lie to yourself.

One more thing. Thousands of years ago, people could be possessed by Demons. Question: who's to say that isn't still happening?

Ween

Slit throat, blackened eye,
Road rash and blood run dry,
Self-mutilation,
Full desecration,
And that's just my brother.


Two flaps of skin
Quickly worn thin
Pieces of you
Bleeding right through
I felt that pain.


False democracy
All hypocrisy
Never be leniant
Too inconvenient
Why can't people listen?

The second layer of skin is the most painful. Bones are sliding around. Even that hurts. It's still... I don't want to think about it.

Don't say I didn't warn you...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k3O5uy-MBBk

DESTROY

Guilty. Just a little? Maybe more than just a little. It would have been wrong to hide it. Some might call it trivial, meaningless, and if I had kept quiet it would have been just that; just a little tick. But look at the effect it's having now. I didn't mean that. I just wanted to be honest. Why must pain attach itself to everything I do?

I can't get my mind off that girl in Boston. She had blond, neck-length hair. She wore black with a low neckline and a hint of mascara, also black. She was very pale. We stood next to each other by the side of the road waiting for the WALK sign to light up. I've seen her for perhaps fifteen seconds in my whole life and yet somehow I can't seem to forget her. Not in a romantic way, mind. Nothing like that. It was just one of those moments that never leaves you. I hold onto it because it's special to me, being one of the few things I've ever been able to consistently remember.

IT'S OVER NINE THOUSAAAAAAAAAAAND!!!!!!!!!!!!

Halloween has always been special to me. Not in a good way. It's the darkest time of the year. What else would we call the celebration of night, of greed, of lust, of fire, of daemonic creatures and witchcraft, of fear, terror, the screams of little children, of acts of evil committed in the light of blood, of deals with the Devil himself? Do you know the story of the jack-o'-lantern? It tells of a man name Jack who one day met the Devil and trapped him with a cross. There are many variations of this part of the story, but they all end with Jack releasing the Devil on the condition that he be never sent into Hell. When Jack died he could not enter Heaven, for he was a thief and a dishonest man. So he went down to Hell, but because of his pact with the Devil he could not enter there either. In desperation he asked the Devil for a lantern so he could find his way. The Devil took the turnip he was eating and put a piece of flaming coal inside, then gave it to Jack. Jack set off with his new lantern, and forever wanders in darkness, trying to find a place where his soul may rest. But he never will.
Consider this: in this world all celebrations, good or evil, have been rewritten into little more than market holidays. Everything is about money. Just think about what you're really celebrating. Christmas (the inaccurate anniversary of the Virgin Birth) is now about magic reindeer and getting presents. Easter (the more accurate anniversary of when someone rose from the dead!) is now about bunnies and chocolate eggs. Thanksgiving (remembrance of a time when people were happy to just be alive) is now about turkey. Halloween (celebration of death) is about candy. You see the similarities? They don't mean anything anymore. And what with "political correctness" these days they're going to start meaning less and less.

Feeling kinda down. Still got Civics to do.

-pation

There's a storm coming.

Not that kind of storm. The other kind. The kind you can't see; you can only feel it. I've only felt one of these before, about six months ago. I kept whispering "There's a storm coming." Over and over again. I couldn't help it. Ella kept looking at me like I was crazy, but she still comforted me.

It's strange when I think of Ella. There's a twitch. Not a good twitch or a bad twitch, just a twitch. I look at the past sometimes and think of the time when I knew I would never love anyone else. "Love is not fickle. The people who try to understand it are." I think I still do love her, in a way. At least part of me does. Part of me always did...

Am I making you jealous, Tash?

Time changes everything. I'm completely different from who I used to be. When I think of myself two years ago I feel nothing but pity. I was just beginning to realize who (and what) I am then. I was in for a surprise. That was the year I stumbled upon... that which consumed my life and soul. That was the year I died. I never truly recovered. The year after... at the very least I had some inkling of what had happened. I spent what seemed like forever trying to find myself. I pursued illogical relationships, began to take mezzophisical drugs, wallowed in self-pity like a giraffe in a tar pit. It took a long time before I reached a stable state of mind.

Looking back on the pathetic scrap of what barely passes for a human that my life used to be, I'm so glad those years are over.

I can't believe it's post 45

Last night I had the weirdest dream of my life so far. And that's saying something.

I was playing a game called PornStar RPG, which is a first-person shooter. You go around and talk to people, complete seemingly unrelated Dance Dance Revolution-style minigames, collect useless items, and snowboard. Despite the title it seemed only slightly sex-related; the only nudity was one hairy fat guy holding a sausage. Although there were girls tugging at their clothes. I don't know. I don't know if my mind is trying to tell me something, and if it is I don't want to know what. Life is confusing enough already.

We're fire and ice, she and I, and it's becoming blatantly obvious which is which. I ran my hands under the tap; even under the coldest setting it still felt warm. My body is just insensitive to cold. I can't explain it.

I always knew music affected me, but I'm only just starting to realize how much. Pain! Every time I heard that it felt like I had been stung. This explains a lot.

Elbow sex! But seriously, what would you do if you found a transvestite in your cereal? Seriously, what would you do?

I always laugh when I'm about to say something absurd. I can't help it. But I was THIS close to taking the cheeseburger seriously.

Now that the jacket is off I feel ridiculous. It's like the physical embodiment of the effects of a couple of beers.

Someday I'll work out why he had numbers written on his thigh. I will.

I still feel like there's rice all over me. And somehow I've still got the sensation of toasted bread colliding with the back of my head.

Tell us about it, Janet!

My heart is bleeding, the Beast is feeding, we reap no more than we sow...
Darkness seeding, so misleading, the Reaper's picture show...

In short: WOO HOO WHAT A NIGHT!!!

Cuddle Box

The danger has gone now.
But that doesn't mean that we can rest.
It's hard to understand my non-precaution
Some kind of demon
Won't let us tell it what is best
You don't know when we'll be undone
And at last lose control
But there's no sense holding on for happiness' sake
We just keep on going in the hope of some cake
And while the day's long since done
But the fight's never won
We're just happy that we're
Still alive.

There's some love left out there.
We see it around us, every day.
Amongst the stares of all the strangest people
Where do we find it?
It starts inside, I know the way.
But every touch ignites a spark
That makes me scream with desire
But when we've forgotten how to recognize lust
You can shoot me then for I'll have broken our trust
Though I crash at every turn
And my body seems to burn
I'm just happy that I'm
Still alive.

Know that I love you.
I wish I could live inside your mind.
It's different but at least you can be certain
Of who you are now.
At least I think, I have no clue.
Some days all I can do is write
And now I'm hungry for cake
While there's no light waiting at the end of this tube
We can always hold on to our Companion Cube
I've got no identity
But still find serenity
In the people who are
Still alive

She's not bleeding on the ballroom floor just for the attention

He really lost it today. He was shouting. He's so impulsive for a deep thinker it's embarrassing.

The top front of my mouth feels burned. Suits my mood. And it all started out so well.

Sometimes it's an irritation that animals have no concept of clothing. At others it's a lifesaver.
Every twist of muscles was agony. For me at least. Even if I couldn't see right through you it would still show in your face. You know you can't hide anything from me.

You're the only one who knows how I see weapons. Every couple of weeks I still find myself miming a stabbing motion over my heart. Somehow I know exactly what it feels like. Agony.

Why must everything collapse around me the instant I achieve stability? Why does my own life conspire against me? Am I not allowed to simply be happy?

Science progresses, people regress, babies die, the empath screams, time paints a thin whitewash over everything that people tell themselves they can't see through, the world keeps spinning. Where are we going? How far will we go? Why are the oversensitive ones the only ones who sense at all? Why do people put so much faith into Darkness but none into the Light? Why haven't we destroyed ourselves already? Everyone expects the world to be handed to them on a silver platter and then get angry when everyone expects the same of them. We know what we're doing is wrong, but people have so many wrong ideas about how to change it that nothing ever happens. The truth is people don't want anything to change. They're "happy" and nothing can get in the way of that. Can't you see no one is happy anymore? They fill the air with chemicals and wonder why people get cancer. Who's to say happiness isn't the same? But when everything is a metaphor for everything else all meaning is lost and all forms of communication collapse. People can't communicate anymore and we're unable to express why. Maybe the knife was the best option. But then people wouldn't understand. I'll know tomorrow.

Is this a dagger I see before me?

My sweater is still missing.

Josh, of all people, thinks I'm being negative.

Sasha is putting no effort in whatsoever.

Jennifer's nice, but she just can't act.

Yeah, we could be doing better. Maybe we would have rehearsed the whole thing by now if we could just get through one scene without someone laughing. Maybe the script would be longer if I hadn't had to practically write the whole thing myself. Maybe we would be looking better if people could do something about props instead of just talking about them. Maybe we could all just be better actors if we let some ENERGY into the play instead of speaking in a monotone. But is that likely to happen? Not really.

IMPACT snapped something at a leering passer-by that I can't explain.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't write it. Neither in my head or on paper, the words would not come together. Maybe if he knew what he was asking of me he would have been kinder. I was an atheist for a week once and I almost killed myself before the end of it. On dark days, when the wind is frigid and my mood is sour, I still walk with a limp.

Maeralaes Lux Nast. That was all I could write. "This is how I stand." Over and over again. Line after line. Maeralaes Lux Nast. He's going to think I'm crazy now.

I saw you glance at me. You were writing about me, weren't you?

Today has not been a nice day. And I still haven't talked to the good doctor yet. Ach...

As soon as I work out who he is

It occurred to me earlier that I was upset about the drawings of the Rooms because I can't draw. So why don't I give a guided tour instead? Do something I'm actually good at?

Let's start with the Hub. The Hub is a large, six-sided room with a door on each wall. There is a spiral staircase in the middle leading up and down. The room itself is a dirty white, as though it was once sparkling but hasn't been cleaned in months. All surfaces are made of a tile that feels like linoleum but is hard and cold as marble. There is a distinct feeling of thinness to the room, as though you are walking on cracking ice or stiff paper.

The first door (#1 on the map) is a standard wooden door painted yellow. Inside is a mostly square but slightly lopsided room. On the wall on the right are various aquariums, and opposite them are several terrariums. On the wall facing the door there are several screens that can contain anything.

Directly opposite it (#7 on the map) is an identical door, only much larger and painted orange. Inside is a triangular room painted entirely in the same alarmingly bright orange. It is filled with comfy chairs, sofas and beds. There is an enormous flat-screen TV in the middle of the room and a beer fridge against the wall.

To the left of this room (#2 on the map) is what looks like an elevator door. It opens out to a large concrete plaza containing four large office buildings. These are "labelled" Human Resources, Hon-Human Resources, Claims and Returns. Most floors of these are filled with filing cabinets. The plaza itself is called Current Affairs. It is not fully understood what goes on in these building, although it probably has something to do with the Rooms.

Next door to that (#4 on the map) is a large stone doorway with malicious-looking gargoyles cared into it. This is the smallest Room, barely large enough to stand up in. It contains a few threadbare stuffed animals and nothing else. At the back is a very small, dark alcove; just the right size, one would think, for a small child to curl up in.

Directly opposite (#5 on the map) has no door. Inside is pure white. It's hard to tell where the floor ends and the wall begins. There appears to be no back wall. There is an alter of some sort at the end of the room, but it is guarded by the Ice Angel.

(#6 on the map) is the largest Room. The entrance to it is a doorway filled with hanging beads. This opens up onto the middle of an island called Eden in the middle of the C sea. Many strange things exist here. Other islands include Army Ant island, populated by a huge army of army ants; Exploding-Giraffeland, where the exploding giraffes live; Crab Claw island, full of things with shells; and the Lost Island of Nod. The Triumph Islands and ? are mostly unexplored. There is also a man-made island called Lair and a section of ocean where dragons are said to live.

Down the spiral staircase is a rust-red wasteland. Dunes of dark sand fill the horizon, with some wicked-looking mountains in the far distance. It is a harsh place.

No one knows what is up the spiral staircase. We've never looked.

Only the why answers how; but why?

I can't believe we're getting two more cats. I can't believe it. At least these two are supposed to be big and fat and floppy and quiet; the kind we've been looking for all these years. Their names are Panama and Quinny, although Panama's going to get the nickname Bagpuss because he is. There was some kind of story behind it.

Tash, where are you? I get sad when you're not online. I get sad when I log onto a message board and it tells me you were there one minute ago. I get sad when I don't know if you've read something I've written. I get sad when my blog posts have no comments. I get sad when I think about how hopelessly co-dependant I am. I shouldn't need to hear you saying that you love me every hour of the day. Maybe it would be better if... no. I'm not going to start second-guessing myself again. As soon as my insecurities start acting up the whole cycle's going to begin all over again.

I've got too much work to do. No sleep tonight. I hate procrastination.

It only lets me post five pictures at a time

If you have started reading this from the top of the page, kindly direct your attention to the post below. Thank you.

On a day like this

What follows is a shifty and probably highly inaccurate (especially the times) account of the past two days.

FRIDAY

12:01
I wake up. I stare at the ceiling for awhile, but I don't feel tired. I don't go back to sleep. Vaguely I wonder why. Out of nowhere I suddenly say "Give me a life."
I wake up.

6:30
I wake up.

6:35
I wake up again.

6:50
I should really be getting up now.

7:10
I'm feeling a lot more tired than usual. Then I see Tash and my day starts to brighten up a little.
7:25
The bus arrives.

7:26
The bus leaves.

8:07
The bus arrives at its destination.

8:45
Discussion about "Mr. Bear" and related subjects.

9:05
I hate Civics.

10:25
Drama is more fun.

10:46
Josh refuses to be a Pokemon.

11:45
Lunch. Uninspired, but that's what you get when your brother makes your lunch. I'm not complaining.

12:30
Plans made.

12:34
Lockdown. Plans cancelled.

12:36
Sitting in a dark room. Next to Tash, which is nice :) but also crushed against a wall with no room to stretch. I think the reason I've got a hunch is because as a child they made me sit on the floor. It's the position I naturally assume.

1:15
It's raining outside. I wish I was out there.

2:00
Lockdown finally cancelled. I've missed Lit, which is sad.

2:10
Science. Sigh...

3:27
I'm actually outside before Tash for once.

3:35
Bus ride home. *stares wistfully into space*

4:15
Maybe I crossed a line. I'm not sure.

4:25
Last goodbyes. :(

4:38
Extremely hurried homework. It seems unfair that I've been given a weekendfull of homework, given that I'm busy all weekend.

5:00
Pizza while doing homework.

7:00
Church group. So it begins. Danica was pleased to see me, I think. My readership may now go up by one :)

7:20
Band called Atlantic. Need I say more? (Yes, but I'm not going to because I'm lazy.)

7:30
Intense worship time.

8:00
Danica steals my hat for the twelfth time.

Time gets a bit sketchy around this point
Have extreme religious experience

10:56
Dodgeball and the most intense pool noodle battle ever. I'm still having trouble hearing.

11:25
Least intense pool noodle battle ever.

11:30
Hometime :(

SATURDAY

Much later
Fall asleep.

8:11
Wake up.

8:20
Wake up again.

8:28
Get up.

8:35
Eat a single Weetabix (the only one left in the box) for breakfast. Worst breakfast I've had in a long time.

9:00
Get interrupted in the shower by Chris, who tells me I'm late.

9:05
Get picked up. On the road again...

9:31
Arrive. Chris has popcorn. I have a hot chocolate.

9:52
Atlantic again. Everyone becomes hyper.

11:59
Lunch. Pizza (cheese) and sludge-and-bubbles-in-a-can. I have water.

1:00
Swimming! Yeah, we went to the Wave Pool. I actually spent a lot of time sitting in the sauna. I'll take their word for it that it's good for me.

3:00
We go back. Leftover pizza!

3:10
Danica arrives. She complains about having missed swimming.

5:20
Early dinner. I have a hot dog and a hamburger. These were actual foodstuffs, not more barbecued fast food. Danica has a salad.

5:45
Atlantic again. It's hard to get tired of them.

6:10
"It's ten past six."
"Yeah, any excuse to hold my hand."
"No."
"I didn't think so."

6:12
My attention started to wander.

Hey there Natasha,
there's a very similar song
That I had stuck inside my head
So I wrote this, it's not that long
But it's for you
And now you know that that is true
This rhymes with blue

Hey there Natasha
I've got no real theme in mind
I'm just sticking to the rhyme scheme
And I hope that I'll soon find
Something to say
But I'll keep singing anyway
Right now today

That's as far as I got.

7:01
GO OUT, AND LIVE - FOR ME.
What? Um... okay.

8:24
I spoke those same words in front of a crowd. I received much applause.

8:48
Happy smiling singing jumping dancing time. Sometimes not always being quite myself has its good points.

8:51
GROUP HUG!!!

9:00
Everyone giving everyone else a hug. Happy times.

9:23
I think Danica was saying something about having a crush on me. Unlikely. I was only half-listening.

9:50
Watched Surf's Up. If it wasn't about penguins it would be really, really bad. How do people come up with these things?

11:20
Talking about penguins. More hugs.

11:30
Hometime :(

And that's what I've been up to.

Also, here are some extremely low-quality pictures of the Rooms. I may add colour later.

Too much time

There were giggles.

"Hey," one hissed to another. "Shut up! This is serious!"

"You shut up," one hissed back. "He's telling a joke."

"Everyone..." One sighed. "You're going to get us all killed. Just be quiet, it's not hard."

One kept talking. One laughed. One tried to do both and collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Just SHUT UP," said one, talking as loud as he dared. Just then there was a bang. One in the corner let out a scream. One collapsed into gibberish, and one more followed suit. The message "We're all going to die!" ran about the room in several forms. One put his head in his hands.

There was a crash and a bang, louder than the first, and yet somehow as silent as the twisting of a knife.

Time Dyslexia
Dyslexia is a condition in which letters within words appear in the wrong order, scrambling themselves as they pass through your brain. In the same way, time dyslexia causes time itself to be reorganized. While one event still proceeds logically to the next, there are vast differences in how the events are perceived. The event can last a few seconds or, depending on the event in question, years, causing premonitions (see FUTURE) and deja-vu (see PAST). Note that it is not the events themselves that are rearranged, merely our reactions to them. Time Dyslexia is a fairly normal if misunderstood phenomenon, and everyone experiences it at some point in their lives.

Almost slightly intense

Haven't updated. Been working on the Encyclopedia Sevenfoldia. Here are a few samples:

Dark
A simplistic form of EVIL. Dark is a basic negative force that exists only to counteract LIGHT. Dark draws all other forms of energy into itself, generating more Dark; it is, in spiritual terms (see SOUL) the part that thinks only of itself, takes everything and gives nothing back. Dark is a prominent SOUL COLOUR in many individuals, but can exist in other forms as well.

Dagon
The sixth NIGHTMARE, and the strongest thus far. To picture Dagon, draw the most horrible, terrifying thing you can imagine. Now colour it in black and put it on a black background under a black light. Add glowing red eyes. Sprinkle a dash of EVIL over the whole thing. That's Dagon.

Flex
The antimatter, the antithesis, the Antichrist, the antieverything. Possibly the physical embodiment of EVIL, or at least DARK; possibly a WORMHOLE that has become antisentinent; possibly just a mutated DEVOURER. Perhaps even the VOID itself. Who can tell? Flex draws everything into itself like some kind of mobile black hole, consuming all it comes into contact with. There are as many speculations as to where it came from and why it is here as there are as to why its name is Flex.
Flex also makes an appearance as the final boss in SEVENFOLD RPG.

Mapping
A technique used to create structures within the mind, as one might design a building in a computer program. Like a graphics designer, you don't always have to follow the natural laws of physics...

Presk
A commonly-used word. Its origins are as mysteriously elusive as its meaning.

Shadowstalker
The original name for WRAITH, intended to make her sound more formidable and boost her self-confidence. It didn't work.

I want to sleep, but I have to wait for Jennifer to send that email... come on... it's quarter past ten already...
A few random thoughts.
I can still smell your skin.
Okay, maybe just one random thought.

A few things I wish I'd said:

Shut up.

You think you're the only one? Even I'm not the only one.

It depends what you mean by "needs".

Do you have any idea what people think of you?

Excuse me? I just said that just because you're in the same room does NOT mean you're going to sleep with him. How is it even possible to take that the wrong way?

This is the real reason I'm talking to you...

Sorry. Probably should have thought that through a bit before I said it.

To God, there is such a thing as a lost cause.

This site is not user-friendly. Both in that it spontaneously generated infinite tabs, and that the people who use it are intolerably smug bastards.

I know, I was wrong, I KNOW! You don't have to keep rubbing salt in it!

You know, if I didn't already have a girlfriend, and if you weren't more than a year older than me, and if I actually believed in the dating process, then I'd probably ask you out. Just putting that out there.

Yeah, sure.

I'm NOT going to get your daughter pregnant, okay? I love her and I would never do that to her. Besides, I'm a Christian and I don't believe in sex before marriage. I'm a responsible person and so is she, if you just give her the chance to show it. And that goes for Tasha too.
(Yeah, that's horrible.)

I am NOT a vampire

Okay. I'm sick of my life always being up and down, up and down, never just restful. I want to either BE happy or BE sad, not this constant motion. Stability I can live with. And of the two, personally I'd prefer to be happy. So I will now begin Project Crash.
The name is meaningless, and ultimately irrelevant.

So henceforth, or until I am finished:

1. I will not indulge in any acts with any sexual connotations. Even looking at girls the wrong way. In fact, I will do my best not to look at girls at all (although this will be difficult considering which school I go to).

2. I will proceed to write the Encyclopedia Sevenfoldia to help me make sense of my life so far.

3. I will refrain from thinking about my Nightmares, especially Dagon. I will not think about Dagon.

4. I will not listen to Lux Aeterna.

5. I will manage my time effectively.

6. I will not talk about Fight Club.

7. I will get more sleep. That means not staying up until one in the morning playing Minesweeper.

8. I will, to the best of my abilities, avoid looking into people's souls.

9. I will be kinder to people I do not know. And, if possible, the people I do know.

10. I will meditate at least once a day.

11. I will learn to love myself.

12. I will Pulse upon breakage of any of the above rules until the unwanted behavior has subsided.

To any who read this I make this pledge. Hope this works...
Still love you.

Assorted condiments meet Halo 4 and Feathertongue

Okay. This is the reason, in full, that I was late.

It started with tagball. My TKD (that's Tae Kwon Do) club was having a little outing, so we all went playing tagball. Tagball is like paintball, but instead of little plastic balls filled with paint you use little rubber balls. Each game has an objective. If at any point during the game you are shot, you are out. The only armor of any sort you get is a Halo-style helmet and a pouch to hold your balls, which also conveniently shields your balls. (Sorry, couldn't resist.) Women got breastplates, which I thought was somewhat unfair. The gun is a simple CO2 propulsion system, with a container at the top to hold the balls. You get no free refills; if you run out of balls you have to pick more up off the floor.

The first two rounds were simple: put both teams in the maze and let them shoot each other. Sadly, those of us on the Red team were completely obliterated by the Greens. This was strange, because the colour of the Reds was actually orange, and the Greens were really yellow. But we chose to ignore this.

The second round was the DoomKey. We had to take the DoomKey to the Green's territory. If we managed this, we won. Unfortunately things didn't go as planned, but after a truly epic battle our one surviving player got the DoomKey into the bunker in the last few seconds of the game. Then it was Green's turn. We set up an excellent defensive strategy, if I do say so myself, but what we didn't count on was the enemy's sniping abilities. I was positioned behind a window, and was firing at the approaching Greens when a single shot flew all the way across the floor, though the window, and collided painfully with my hand. I was dead. Nevertheless, we still won. Later I learned that it was my brother who had fired that one shot.

Round three was Capture the Flag. Hopefully I don't have to explain how this works. In the first round the Greens charged right through, crushing all they met and taking our flag with ease. They returned to their own base triumphantly, only to discover that we had sneakily stolen their own flag in the meantime. In the second round nothing much happened. Green won, I think.

Round four: Mission Impossible. To the side of the maze was an area with a more concentrated layout, and a tiny wall separating the two. This area was called the Graveyard. A bag was hung from a hook above the wall. It was our job to retrieve the bag. But there was a twist; we could not enter the Graveyard - and the Greens couldn't leave it. Both rounds consisted of both teams hiding on opposite sides of opposing walls. No one really had any idea how to proceed. After lots of fire was exchanged we had to stop. Because neither team had come close to winning, it was decided that the winners would be decided by a game of Rock Paper Scissors. Me and my brother faced off... long story short, he won. Damn him and his scissors.

Then, the final round. This was a nasty little game called Assassins. Myself and two others were chosen to be bodyguards for Rob, a horned skull on a pylon. Our job was to protect Rob. If anyone kicked Rob over, we lost. Fortunately, the three of us were INVINCIBLE and could not die, no matter how many times we were shot. So we went and put Rob in a bunker, and were confined to a wide-open space in front of it. We had no cover at all. Now, what's interesting about this is that while we were gone there was a sudden change of rules. Instead of trying to kick over Rob, the new objective was to shoot the bodyguards as much as possible. And so it began. Before we knew what had happened there were shots flying everywhere. At close range too, so these really stung. We fought back hard and took out more than a few, but what do you know! Another spontaneous rule change. It turns out the Assassins could come back from the dead by running to the Graveyard. At first it seemed we were doing all right, but then the shots began to rain down thicker and faster; I took many shots all across the torso, more than one of which is still sore. One ball bounced off my chin, knocking my head back, then seven or eight more cracked against my neck. Beaten, annoyed and running low on balls, I gave up trying to dodge shots and stood at the entrance giving them everything I had. Then a stray shot smashed into my thumb and I dropped my weapon, unable to feel my hand. It was lucky for me the game ended just then.

In a word: OW. But in a good way, you know?

Then we went to dinner. There was a Chinese buffet almost directly across the street that it took us twenty minutes to find. Since I had forgotten to eat lunch (again) I welcomed the opportunity to stuff myself. Yet the whole time I felt horrible; a combination of hunger, cramps, a bit of trapped gas and the fact that I had been shot at least twelve times in the stomach contributed to my feelings of unwellness. Despite that, I still managed to choke down a reasonable-sized meal.

The problems began when Jason found a piece of jello on the bathroom floor and tossed it over a bathroom stall, where on the other side Matt was sitting on the toilet. This led to the Jello Wars, mostly involving gelatin. Somehow this little escapade led to someone trying to discover how much salt could be dissolved in a glass of water. After pouring a considerable amount of salt into it, we ended up passing the glass around the table and having a sip of the now-salty water. I was the only one who liked it. More salt was added. Then someone suggested soy sauce. The sauce was added, along with pepper, sugar, and purple ice cream. No one knew what flavor it was. Then we all passed it around again and had a sip. I was the only one who liked it. Then more ice cream was added, along with ketchup, hot sauce and wasabi. Only the very brave tried this new concoction. The drink became known as the Kamiccino, short for Kamikaze Cappuccino. It was also briefly called the CondimentQuake, the Cappuccino Surprise, or the Black Belt Excellence Special.

Anyway, that's why I was late. Because that has something to do with my lateness... or something.