Last night, I had a dream. This surprised me, because I just about never dream. And not only that; this was one of my legendary EPIC dreams, which, even amongst the dreams I just about never have, just about NEVER happen. And not only that, but I actually remembered enough of it to be able to write it down!
So... Thanks, Tash, and also Jonathan.
Anyway, here's the story of my dream. Enjoy. And if anyone can tell me what it means, that would be much appreciated.
Jerry's Adventure
The story of a dream
***Not entirely accurate (but pretty close)***
Part One
I was standing in the middle of a dusty asphalt road when a strangely familiar blond guy ran up to me. “Jeff's dead!” he cried, tears streaming down his face. I looked to a tiny alleyway across the street, and sure enough my brother's friend Jeff was lying there. His neck was clearly broken.
I shook my head sadly. “Come on, then.” We began walking down the road. At one point it curved steeply and disappeared underwater. We took out bubble-shaped helmets (if you've ever seen or worn one you'll know what I'm talking about) and walked down, using the railings above to guide us. As my head went under there was a moment of panic, then I realized it was working and I could breathe. Then I looked ahead of me, but all I could see was dirty brown. I pulled myself to the surface and tried to wash out the helmet. It was then that I realized that it wasn't my helmet that was dirty; it was the water.
I dove under again. A car drove by. The blond guy and I surfaced on the other side, removed our helmets and kept walking.
Eventually we came to a rope bridge spanning a huge chasm. Below us was a jungle. I looked down and thought, I can do this. I'm not afraid of heights. So I started walking. But halfway across a gust of wind shook the bridge and I clung to the sides, too terrified to move. “Okay, maybe I am afraid of heights,” I said to myself. When the wind stopped for a few seconds I couldn't move. Then I let go of the sides and ran the rest of the way.
The blond guy was gone. He had been right behind me on the bridge. I didn't want to think about what might have happened.
After a short path there was a door. I stepped through into a room. The walls were beige, on the pink side. The only thing in the room was Jerry. Don't ask me how I knew his name was Jerry. I just knew.
A fat man entered the room. The pair of them left the room.
Part Two
Jerry and the fat man walked down the corridor. “So, what can you do about it?” asked Jerry anxiously.
The fat man smiled consolingly. “Don't worry. They'll be gone by tomorrow.”
“Good,” said Jerry. “I can't stand those tiny, pink-skinned little bodies any longer. They're disgusting and I hate them.” He began to shake with fury. “All my life, ever since I was small, I've hated them. God, how I've hated them.” He turned to the fat man. “When I was small, they used to fill the house. Everywhere. They were everywhere. We couldn't get rid of them, so my father tried to get us used to them. There was a box, down in the basement, that was just full of them. He called it the Shoe Box. He would lock me in there and wouldn't let me out until I'd stopped screaming.” He shivered, then looked accusing. “Tell me honestly. Can you get rid of these spiders???”
The fat man nodded slowly. Spiders? he thought. “Yeah, I can do it.”
“Good,” said Jerry, seeming to calm down. The fat man walked away, glancing in confusion over his shoulder. Jerry sighed and turned into an alcove containing nothing but an ornate black box. He stroked its black surface and sighed again. He silently debated with himself for some time. Then, with a nod of his head, he undid the clasp and slowly lifted the lid. Darkness began to spill out of the box. Jerry closed his eyes.
Then there was cold.
All around were trees. Every one of their thin branches was completely covered by a thin layer of ice. Jerry stepped across the snow covered ground and touched the frozen needles; they came off in his hand. “Let us see the sky, that we may grow strong from the sun...” whispered the tree. There was no answer.
Further on through the trees was a girl. She was also frozen in place, her arms raised as though cowering from some unseen beast. Jerry stroked her arm, leaning close, trying to see her face under the ice. Her arm snapped off at the elbow and tumbled to the ground below. As Jerry scrambled for it the girl's eyes flicked open.
“Leave it,” she commanded. When Jerry protested she replied “Just put some ice on it. There's plenty lying around.”
Part Three
A businessman was trying to build a tiny building in the shadow of a palace. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a place where he was allowed to put it. Eventually his friend came over and told him to build it in a much sunnier spot. So the pair found an open square and built their little building. Then they started working on a much larger building next to it. As they were working one of them noticed a building nearby. There was a billboard on it that the words had been torn off of and another one next to it with the word OTHER written on it. A fat bearded man stood between them with his hands on his hips.
One of the men saw the OTHER sign and began screaming. His friend, the fat bearded man and a burly police officer all ran over. Once they had calmed him down he explained. This is what he said:
Part Four
In the Beginning there was a flaming sword and a plate. With the sword He spun the earth. Because of this the plate broke and fell to earth, forming the world. And He was pleased.
But life began to grow on the earth, and He wanted none to live but Him. So he froze the world, save for one pale-skinned boy. He trapped him in a ring of ice in the middle of the world and stayed with him in the form of a wolf. But eventually He grew tired of this and left to roam the earth on his own. But He remembered the boy, and created a girl to keep him company.
Many years later, the boy and his descendants destroyed the ring of ice and ran out into the world. When they reached the edge of the world they found only darkness and the dark creatures that He had created. The evil beings hurled balls of dark light at the people, but the boy made a sword from the ice around him and batted the light away. These became the stars.
Then He came, clothed in purple. “Impressive,” said He, “but I have a longer sword.” Then he drew a mighty sword of black fire and, with a flick of his wrist, snapped the sword of ice to the hilt.
But the boy leaped at Him, and with the last of his strength stabbed the very end of the sword into His neck. And when the people saw this they though that both had been killed, and began to throw themselves from the edge of the world. But then they discovered that the world is round, not flat, and they looked back and saw that the world was covered in grass and trees. Then all they could do was weep with joy.
Part Five
Jerry stood amongst a crowd of people in a field, all staring at a very small lake. The lake was frozen, and enormous centipedes crawled in and out of it. People would try to grab the centipedes, but they would shrink away and be replaced by another. Then Jerry grabbed one and, using is as a handle, lifted the frozen lake out of its basin.
Then a purple-clothed demon monster rose from the spot where the lake had been and began trying to smash Jerry with its claws. Jerry used the lake as a shield and backed away. The creature attacked Jerry again and again, but each time it was blocked. They passed several houses and a wooden chest, which also attacked him as he walked past. But the longer he walked, the smaller the lake became.
Eventually the creature backed Jerry into a bog that was covered in a mysterious fog. At this point the lake was the size of an actual shield. The creature began to taunt Jerry with images of a brown-haired girl named Ginny. Enraged, Jerry used the shield to push the creature back into the bog, then used its edge to cleave the creature's head open. It flickered, then turned into a one-armed girl who glared furiously before dissolving into static.
Far, far above, three dark-skinned men with large hats sat in a gold spaceship and complained loudly about unconvincing static effects.
Sep 29, 2007
Sep 28, 2007
Morbus Garrinattusan
There's something ironic about posting things at night. Because you know it's not going to be read until tomorrow. Like writing for the future.
I was angry today. No... not angry. Annoyed? Exasperated? Sort of... like I was irritated, but couldn't find the will to care.
"Hey!"
"Whoa... are they..."
"No, just hugging."
"Oh." Pause. "That looks really uncomfortable."
"They've been there like this whole time!"
"Wow... that's awkward."
"Yeah."
Clearly these people are not aware of how good my hearing is.
And as long as I'm telling stories... here's a story about my life.
***
All day long, I'm working in my little garden at the back of my average little house. No matter what I do, my plants keep dying. Nevertheless, I'm determined; I keep at it, rain or shine, hoping that someday I'll get it right and my garden will be beautiful.
So one day I'm working out in my garden when I look down and realize I'm not wearing any shoes. I've been walking around in the dirt this whole time and my feet are covered in mud. "Maggot," I mutter, because that's one of the things I tend to say when I'm annoyed, and begin to head back inside to wash up. Now as I'm walking I glance over my fence and I see God's working in his garden next door. "Hey, God!" I yell.
"Hey!" yells God back. "How are you? Great to see you!" So we start talking, and He ends up inviting me over for coffee.
So I walk around to his side of the fence, and I see he's got the most beautiful garden I've ever seen. So I say, "Whoa! That's a beautiful garden! How do you get it like that?"
He just smiles and says, "There's a trick to it. I can teach you if you like. Anyway, come on in!" So we go inside His house, and I see there's some kind of party going on. There's great music, great food, and lots of smiling people talking to each other. Everyone cheers when God and I enter the room. I wonder who they're cheering for.
So I start walking around, talking to people. "Are you all God's family?" I ask incredulously.
"Naw," says someone. "People come from all over to get here. And who wouldn't? Is this place great or what?" She starts dancing for a minute before returning her attention to me. "'Course, it's a bit of a walk for some, but from what I hear you live pretty close by, right?" I nod slowly and move on.
I've just about forgotten why I'm here when I catch sight of God again. At this point I remember that my feet are still dirty. I look behind me and see that I've left a huge trail of mud across the floor. I of course feel guilty, but no one seems to mind, least of all God. I think this is strange, seeing as it's his floor. Seeing my distress, God warmly says "Hey, let me wash your feet."
I blink. "You what?"
He smiles. "Yeah, your feet. They've got mud on them, let me wash them." So he pulls a brush out of nowhere and starts scrubbing my feet. The dirt slides off like water.
"W-what are you doing?!" Understandably weirded out, I step back and stare. Muttering some excuse, I leave through the front door.
"Feel free to stop by anytime!" yells God after me.
So I walk back to my house, occasionally glancing over my shoulder. "What a weird Guy," I say to myself. So I go inside and try to wash my own feet. But nothing seems to work, and however hard I try I can't get myself as clean as where God touched me. Feeling frustrated, I glance out the window and see that while I was gone, all the flowers in my garden have bloomed.
***
Comprised mostly of metaphors, bits from the Bible and this and that from my own life.
I was angry today. No... not angry. Annoyed? Exasperated? Sort of... like I was irritated, but couldn't find the will to care.
"Hey!"
"Whoa... are they..."
"No, just hugging."
"Oh." Pause. "That looks really uncomfortable."
"They've been there like this whole time!"
"Wow... that's awkward."
"Yeah."
Clearly these people are not aware of how good my hearing is.
And as long as I'm telling stories... here's a story about my life.
***
All day long, I'm working in my little garden at the back of my average little house. No matter what I do, my plants keep dying. Nevertheless, I'm determined; I keep at it, rain or shine, hoping that someday I'll get it right and my garden will be beautiful.
So one day I'm working out in my garden when I look down and realize I'm not wearing any shoes. I've been walking around in the dirt this whole time and my feet are covered in mud. "Maggot," I mutter, because that's one of the things I tend to say when I'm annoyed, and begin to head back inside to wash up. Now as I'm walking I glance over my fence and I see God's working in his garden next door. "Hey, God!" I yell.
"Hey!" yells God back. "How are you? Great to see you!" So we start talking, and He ends up inviting me over for coffee.
So I walk around to his side of the fence, and I see he's got the most beautiful garden I've ever seen. So I say, "Whoa! That's a beautiful garden! How do you get it like that?"
He just smiles and says, "There's a trick to it. I can teach you if you like. Anyway, come on in!" So we go inside His house, and I see there's some kind of party going on. There's great music, great food, and lots of smiling people talking to each other. Everyone cheers when God and I enter the room. I wonder who they're cheering for.
So I start walking around, talking to people. "Are you all God's family?" I ask incredulously.
"Naw," says someone. "People come from all over to get here. And who wouldn't? Is this place great or what?" She starts dancing for a minute before returning her attention to me. "'Course, it's a bit of a walk for some, but from what I hear you live pretty close by, right?" I nod slowly and move on.
I've just about forgotten why I'm here when I catch sight of God again. At this point I remember that my feet are still dirty. I look behind me and see that I've left a huge trail of mud across the floor. I of course feel guilty, but no one seems to mind, least of all God. I think this is strange, seeing as it's his floor. Seeing my distress, God warmly says "Hey, let me wash your feet."
I blink. "You what?"
He smiles. "Yeah, your feet. They've got mud on them, let me wash them." So he pulls a brush out of nowhere and starts scrubbing my feet. The dirt slides off like water.
"W-what are you doing?!" Understandably weirded out, I step back and stare. Muttering some excuse, I leave through the front door.
"Feel free to stop by anytime!" yells God after me.
So I walk back to my house, occasionally glancing over my shoulder. "What a weird Guy," I say to myself. So I go inside and try to wash my own feet. But nothing seems to work, and however hard I try I can't get myself as clean as where God touched me. Feeling frustrated, I glance out the window and see that while I was gone, all the flowers in my garden have bloomed.
***
Comprised mostly of metaphors, bits from the Bible and this and that from my own life.
Sep 25, 2007
Flareball
I'd like to dedicate this birthday (#15) to all the people who have made an impact on my life. Not all names are accurate.
Jesus Son of God, who died a most painful death that I might live
My parents, who brought me into this world
My little brother, who, ironically, gave me someone to look up to
My imaginary friends, who were there for me when no one else knew how
Allison, who never laughed when I cried
Cody, who gave me a reason to fight back
Colin, who showed me that I am not bigger than everything
Jamie, who was at times my only friend
Ashley, who taught me that some people just don't think as much as others
Jared, who taught me that a person cannot be defined in a single word
The Ostriches, who taught me to recognise their kind
Shawn, who still owes me $2 for that burger
Scott, who has hair now
Adrienne, whose screams have haunted me for years
Massenova, who brought order and reason back into my life
Mrs. T, who inspired me in small ways
Nest, who gave me hope when I had none
Gerald, who once called me morbid
Lilly, who never let me apologise to her
Ella, who gave me patience and solace in the darkest times
Brittany, who reminded me to think clearly
Ellen, who has sworn to figure me out
Kindagothic, who accepted me
Emily, who saved my life
Hunterpuppy, who may still hold a grudge
Adrian, who told me he'd write (he never did)
Christine, whose tear-streaked face is one of my most painful memories
Gabrielle, who I hope will some day recover
And Tash, who reminded me that just as all these people have affected me I, too, have changed the lives of everyone I've met. You reminded me that my life has meaning.
Thank you. All of you. You mean so much to me.
Jesus Son of God, who died a most painful death that I might live
My parents, who brought me into this world
My little brother, who, ironically, gave me someone to look up to
My imaginary friends, who were there for me when no one else knew how
Allison, who never laughed when I cried
Cody, who gave me a reason to fight back
Colin, who showed me that I am not bigger than everything
Jamie, who was at times my only friend
Ashley, who taught me that some people just don't think as much as others
Jared, who taught me that a person cannot be defined in a single word
The Ostriches, who taught me to recognise their kind
Shawn, who still owes me $2 for that burger
Scott, who has hair now
Adrienne, whose screams have haunted me for years
Massenova, who brought order and reason back into my life
Mrs. T, who inspired me in small ways
Nest, who gave me hope when I had none
Gerald, who once called me morbid
Lilly, who never let me apologise to her
Ella, who gave me patience and solace in the darkest times
Brittany, who reminded me to think clearly
Ellen, who has sworn to figure me out
Kindagothic, who accepted me
Emily, who saved my life
Hunterpuppy, who may still hold a grudge
Adrian, who told me he'd write (he never did)
Christine, whose tear-streaked face is one of my most painful memories
Gabrielle, who I hope will some day recover
And Tash, who reminded me that just as all these people have affected me I, too, have changed the lives of everyone I've met. You reminded me that my life has meaning.
Thank you. All of you. You mean so much to me.
Sep 24, 2007
60% Donnie Darko
The issues of our morals seem to pass from hand to hand,
With people making speeches they don't really understand
Is there no one to follow?
Is there no man to blame?
The only answer to our problem is...
More of the same.
When I reached out to touch you did you feel you should resist?Did you watch the dead skin flaking off my limbs that don't exist?
You can't deny I'm here now
There's nothing left to say
The only thing that's left now is...
More of the same.
I almost gave up trying when my love began to lie,
My desperation rising as the bitter months went by
Somehow I went on living
It's just another game
Perhaps I'll find another...
More of the same.
Tomorrow is my birthday.
With people making speeches they don't really understand
Is there no one to follow?
Is there no man to blame?
The only answer to our problem is...
More of the same.
When I reached out to touch you did you feel you should resist?Did you watch the dead skin flaking off my limbs that don't exist?
You can't deny I'm here now
There's nothing left to say
The only thing that's left now is...
More of the same.
I almost gave up trying when my love began to lie,
My desperation rising as the bitter months went by
Somehow I went on living
It's just another game
Perhaps I'll find another...
More of the same.
Tomorrow is my birthday.
Sep 23, 2007
Yes, looks actually can kill
The top 10 differences between Christians and Churchians:
Churchians believe in God.
Christians have faith in God.
Churchians go to church to listen to the sermon.
Christians go to Church to spend time with God.
Churchians pray.
Christians pray to God.
Churchians know they sin.
Christians do something about it.
Churchians preach.
Christians give praise.
Churchians bring God to those who deserve Him.
Christians bring God to those who need Him.
Churchians talk of what you must do for God.
Christians talk of what God can do for you.
Churchians listen to what their pastor has to say.
Christians listen to what God has to say.
Churchians believe in the Bible.
Christians believe in what's written in the Bible.
Churchians see God as the difference between Heaven and Hell.
Christians see God as the difference between Life and... well... not-life.
Churchians: just stop it. This is why everyone hates Christians. It's your fault. Get it right.
And here's a song I like:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=4N3N1MlvVc4
Churchians believe in God.
Christians have faith in God.
Churchians go to church to listen to the sermon.
Christians go to Church to spend time with God.
Churchians pray.
Christians pray to God.
Churchians know they sin.
Christians do something about it.
Churchians preach.
Christians give praise.
Churchians bring God to those who deserve Him.
Christians bring God to those who need Him.
Churchians talk of what you must do for God.
Christians talk of what God can do for you.
Churchians listen to what their pastor has to say.
Christians listen to what God has to say.
Churchians believe in the Bible.
Christians believe in what's written in the Bible.
Churchians see God as the difference between Heaven and Hell.
Christians see God as the difference between Life and... well... not-life.
Churchians: just stop it. This is why everyone hates Christians. It's your fault. Get it right.
And here's a song I like:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=4N3N1MlvVc4
Sep 22, 2007
A somewhat explicit loophole
...oooooooooooooooooooooooooooookay. That was by far the most sexual thing I've ever done. Not that that's saying much, but still. I think the only thing that even comes close was the time in grade 6 when I poked a girl in the breast with a pen. I didn't even mean to. That was just the poking-people-with-pens year and she happened to be sitting next to me. I was weird four years ago.
It was her right breast. If you're wondering.
Maybe I haven't changed that much in four years.
And of course there's that... incident... I think. Now, I don't want to alarm anyone, but I think there may be just the slightest chance that there could maybe be a tiny possibility that MAYBE I was raped as a child. Maybe. I'm not making any claims; I'm just saying it's a slight possibility. Stranger things have happened. (just not to me...)
We're celebrating my birthday dinner tonight. Just a small thing, nothing fancy. I don't do big parties anymore. I don't know where we're going, though. It's going to be a surprise.
Oh, and by the way, I support PIRATES!
It was her right breast. If you're wondering.
Maybe I haven't changed that much in four years.
And of course there's that... incident... I think. Now, I don't want to alarm anyone, but I think there may be just the slightest chance that there could maybe be a tiny possibility that MAYBE I was raped as a child. Maybe. I'm not making any claims; I'm just saying it's a slight possibility. Stranger things have happened. (just not to me...)
We're celebrating my birthday dinner tonight. Just a small thing, nothing fancy. I don't do big parties anymore. I don't know where we're going, though. It's going to be a surprise.
Oh, and by the way, I support PIRATES!
Sep 21, 2007
Choose your destiny
Throughout history... throughout the world...
There has always been a battle.
It exists in every one of us. In recent years we try to ignore it, but it will always be there, tempting us, calling us to choose a side...
And fight.
Choose well, for one side cannot live until the other is dead.
This battle has raged for the entire history of the world. It is never completely finished, never completely forgotten. Some pass it off as a myth; others dedicate their lives to it. These are the ultimate rivals, made to be enemies, forever locked in an endless struggle...
NINJAS VS. PIRATES!!!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=P-7vT4GSodk
This line of posting seems to indicate that I'm feeling better.
There has always been a battle.
It exists in every one of us. In recent years we try to ignore it, but it will always be there, tempting us, calling us to choose a side...
And fight.
Choose well, for one side cannot live until the other is dead.
This battle has raged for the entire history of the world. It is never completely finished, never completely forgotten. Some pass it off as a myth; others dedicate their lives to it. These are the ultimate rivals, made to be enemies, forever locked in an endless struggle...
NINJAS VS. PIRATES!!!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=P-7vT4GSodk
This line of posting seems to indicate that I'm feeling better.
Sep 20, 2007
Peanutbutterpancakes
"You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be." It probably sounded like a compliment at the time.
I almost lost control again. Just like I was afraid of. I can still taste flesh between my teeth. I can offer no excuses; there are none. Just guilt. I won't be forgiven forever. I can't even forgive myself now.
"You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be." That hurt. It did. Not just the thought that I could be comparable to Heaven - which I'll never be convinced of - but the idea that she's already resigned to having no Heaven. It's saddening. The most wonderful thing in the world, and I can't share it because we're both too afraid. I feel like screaming. I always do.
Today has been... saddening.
I almost lost control again. Just like I was afraid of. I can still taste flesh between my teeth. I can offer no excuses; there are none. Just guilt. I won't be forgiven forever. I can't even forgive myself now.
"You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be." That hurt. It did. Not just the thought that I could be comparable to Heaven - which I'll never be convinced of - but the idea that she's already resigned to having no Heaven. It's saddening. The most wonderful thing in the world, and I can't share it because we're both too afraid. I feel like screaming. I always do.
Today has been... saddening.
Sep 19, 2007
An unwelcome musical interlude
Wow... two posts in one day. Something must be wrong with me.
I know something is wrong with me. I'm listening to Lux Aeterna. I only listen to that when I'm truly worried about something. And not just nervous; I mean afraid. I'm afraid of something.
Maybe I'm feeling guilty about not feeding Milo.
Maybe I'm under stress from a huge workload that I'm only imagining I have.
Maybe barely six hours a night just isn't enough sleep to survive on.
Maybe because I haven't been eating.
Maybe I'm still disturbed by the Blue Needle.
Maybe I've got a gut-wrenching feeling that I've forgotten something important, so important it should never have wandered from my attention at all.
Maybe I've been staring at my mutilated hands wondering how anyone could enjoy their touch.
Maybe I find it distressing that there are so few virgins my age.
Maybe I know, deep down, that Project Crash isn't going to work.
Maybe I'm afraid I'm going to betray someone.
Maybe I think someone's going to discover what I know about Mezzophysics and call me insane.
Maybe I can't stop wondering about the cry for help I left on a message board that no one knows I know about.
Maybe because the closer I run to God, the further I ultimately fling myself back.
Maybe because I know that a student was tasered for asking a politician irritating questions.
Maybe I'm afraid I'm going to commit an act of Ehn Trakq.
Maybe I keep comparing myself to the Pornomime from the music video for Build God, Then We'll Talk.
Maybe because it's been years since I've referred to myself by my own name.
Maybe because I still can't scream.
Maybe I'm worried no one will read this until it's too late.
Maybe I'm just not sure if I can go on.
Maybe I'm not used to being loved.
I know something is wrong with me. I'm listening to Lux Aeterna. I only listen to that when I'm truly worried about something. And not just nervous; I mean afraid. I'm afraid of something.
Maybe I'm feeling guilty about not feeding Milo.
Maybe I'm under stress from a huge workload that I'm only imagining I have.
Maybe barely six hours a night just isn't enough sleep to survive on.
Maybe because I haven't been eating.
Maybe I'm still disturbed by the Blue Needle.
Maybe I've got a gut-wrenching feeling that I've forgotten something important, so important it should never have wandered from my attention at all.
Maybe I've been staring at my mutilated hands wondering how anyone could enjoy their touch.
Maybe I find it distressing that there are so few virgins my age.
Maybe I know, deep down, that Project Crash isn't going to work.
Maybe I'm afraid I'm going to betray someone.
Maybe I think someone's going to discover what I know about Mezzophysics and call me insane.
Maybe I can't stop wondering about the cry for help I left on a message board that no one knows I know about.
Maybe because the closer I run to God, the further I ultimately fling myself back.
Maybe because I know that a student was tasered for asking a politician irritating questions.
Maybe I'm afraid I'm going to commit an act of Ehn Trakq.
Maybe I keep comparing myself to the Pornomime from the music video for Build God, Then We'll Talk.
Maybe because it's been years since I've referred to myself by my own name.
Maybe because I still can't scream.
Maybe I'm worried no one will read this until it's too late.
Maybe I'm just not sure if I can go on.
Maybe I'm not used to being loved.
Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Avast! Today be International Talk Like A Pirate Day! Er... Arrrrrrrr!
To learn how to talk like a pirate, watch this:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=fqMu6e5Dgtg
http://youtube.com/watch?v=fqMu6e5Dgtg
If all you need be the basic five As, watch this:
Almost makes me wish I had something serious to talk about... um... Arrrrrrrrrrrr!
Sep 18, 2007
Blue needles
Her hair is red, like mine only curly. That's the distinguishing feature I remember her by. That's why I get worried every time I see a flash of curly red hair. Because I know something's wrong with her.
How? I'm not totally sure. Maybe because I get a feeling of emptiness every time I look at her. Maybe because I'm not convinced there was any acting involved in that video she showed us. Maybe it was the way she ground that spider beneath the heel of her shoe. Actually I imagined that last one, but it sounded poetic somehow.
She was found giving head on the floor at a party, says her "friend". She has many of those. It's harder to say how many friends she has.
I don't know. I can just sense it within her; like a fiberglass splinter. You can't see it or feel it, but give it a poke... and you're screaming. Imagine that, only staven through your whole body. That's what I picture. I know I don't really know her and I know there's no way of proving it but I just know, and there's nothing I can do about it. Sickness doesn't have to be physical.
I'm growing a chest hair. Just one. I wonder why.
How? I'm not totally sure. Maybe because I get a feeling of emptiness every time I look at her. Maybe because I'm not convinced there was any acting involved in that video she showed us. Maybe it was the way she ground that spider beneath the heel of her shoe. Actually I imagined that last one, but it sounded poetic somehow.
She was found giving head on the floor at a party, says her "friend". She has many of those. It's harder to say how many friends she has.
I don't know. I can just sense it within her; like a fiberglass splinter. You can't see it or feel it, but give it a poke... and you're screaming. Imagine that, only staven through your whole body. That's what I picture. I know I don't really know her and I know there's no way of proving it but I just know, and there's nothing I can do about it. Sickness doesn't have to be physical.
I'm growing a chest hair. Just one. I wonder why.
Sep 17, 2007
The sausage has fallen
More and more I'm getting the feeling that over the past few days I've been talking to a female version of myself. And I'm not talking about any alter-ego either. She's another person... only she's like me.
She's a writer.
She bites her nails.
She's sensitive about touch - not afraid, just sensitive.
She's quiet.
She doesn't take great initiative.
She appears happy while quietly berating herself for being different.
She just has that way of looking at things. This in particular I've found in so few...
I could go on. But you get the idea.
I'm not sure what, if anything, it means. In a way she reminds me of myself as I used to be, before I discovered my confidence. Maybe it's my purpose to lead her to where I am now. Maybe it's my job to lift her up as she lifts me up. Maybe I should invite her to the Christian group at our school; God knows if not for religion I wouldn't be here now. (Hehe... kind of like wordplay there.) Or maybe we both just need an anchor.
When my arm is around her waist the top of my hand brushes the bottom of her breast. I don't care. Maybe that's a bad thing; it kind of puts my sexuality in question when I'm not attracted to anyone at all. I wonder if she noticed. I wonder if she cared. I wonder what I want the answer to be.
I still can't get over how my Civics project ended up being 110 pages long.
Nor, I suspect, can my Civics teacher.
She's a writer.
She bites her nails.
She's sensitive about touch - not afraid, just sensitive.
She's quiet.
She doesn't take great initiative.
She appears happy while quietly berating herself for being different.
She just has that way of looking at things. This in particular I've found in so few...
I could go on. But you get the idea.
I'm not sure what, if anything, it means. In a way she reminds me of myself as I used to be, before I discovered my confidence. Maybe it's my purpose to lead her to where I am now. Maybe it's my job to lift her up as she lifts me up. Maybe I should invite her to the Christian group at our school; God knows if not for religion I wouldn't be here now. (Hehe... kind of like wordplay there.) Or maybe we both just need an anchor.
When my arm is around her waist the top of my hand brushes the bottom of her breast. I don't care. Maybe that's a bad thing; it kind of puts my sexuality in question when I'm not attracted to anyone at all. I wonder if she noticed. I wonder if she cared. I wonder what I want the answer to be.
I still can't get over how my Civics project ended up being 110 pages long.
Nor, I suspect, can my Civics teacher.
Sep 16, 2007
Cradle of Filth is primarily agnostic
My brother now knows about my blog. I thought knowing would be the end of it, but then he came in and started pestering me to see it. He sat next to me, refusing to leave, saying "Blog." over and over again and poking me until I finally showed him. Then he laughed at everything I'd written and called me insane. I took offence at that, but I tried not to let it show. He doesn't have to rub it in my face.
Why do little brothers do this?
I guess in my case it's because he thinks he's the big brother. He's never looked up to me, especially now that he's taller than I am. I could live with this... but it's just that he's never shown me any respect. Not as a big brother, not as a brother at all. When we were young we were always called twins; maybe that's why we sort of consider ourselves equals agewise. But... we're just different. Our interests, preferences, the way we live, all different. I can accept that. But him? When's the last time he hasn't taunted me for doing anything at all? Brotherly competition is one thing, but it starts to wear you down after awhile.
I know he's younger than I am. Does that mean I should excuse him for being less mature? No! The truth is, in many ways he's more mature than I am. Or at least adult, but whatever. I grew up fast, but much as I hate to admit it he's grown up faster. I'm still playing with my inner child, but he's up and running. He's smart, he's talented, and during the times when I don't want to just strangle him I'm actually proud to have him as a brother.
I just wish he would say the same about me.
Why do little brothers do this?
I guess in my case it's because he thinks he's the big brother. He's never looked up to me, especially now that he's taller than I am. I could live with this... but it's just that he's never shown me any respect. Not as a big brother, not as a brother at all. When we were young we were always called twins; maybe that's why we sort of consider ourselves equals agewise. But... we're just different. Our interests, preferences, the way we live, all different. I can accept that. But him? When's the last time he hasn't taunted me for doing anything at all? Brotherly competition is one thing, but it starts to wear you down after awhile.
I know he's younger than I am. Does that mean I should excuse him for being less mature? No! The truth is, in many ways he's more mature than I am. Or at least adult, but whatever. I grew up fast, but much as I hate to admit it he's grown up faster. I'm still playing with my inner child, but he's up and running. He's smart, he's talented, and during the times when I don't want to just strangle him I'm actually proud to have him as a brother.
I just wish he would say the same about me.
Sep 15, 2007
Comments = Happiness
I can feel my heart pounding against the inside of my neck. At first I thought it was going too fast. Then I realized I was hearing the beat as my valves closed... and the second, quieter beat as they snapped open again. Or maybe it was the other way around. It's hard to see from the outside. It's strange - when you take a pulse, you only feel one beat. When you listen to your heart itself you feel two. Peculiar? Maybe not. But it seemed so at the time.
These are the things I am afraid of:
Round objects
Dead birds
Pills
Broken glass
Public humiliation
Subjectivity
Comas
Glitches
Reality glitches
Cartoons who kill
Hitting the ground
Threatening dogs
Personal demons
Hurting people
Hurting people and not caring
Being alone
People without the ability to reason against themselves
Animals with the wrong number of eyes
Being trapped
Self-disgust
Emotional whores
Small tornadoes
Large tornadoes
The ends of needles breaking off under my skin
Being lost
Being eaten alive
Eating something alive
Split fingernails
Insects that lay eggs under your skin
False happiness
Certain jellyfish
Drowning in something other than water (sand, rotted vegetables, liquefied pigs, etc)
Having eyes stabbed out/sewn shut
Evil
These are the things I am afraid of:
Round objects
Dead birds
Pills
Broken glass
Public humiliation
Subjectivity
Comas
Glitches
Reality glitches
Cartoons who kill
Hitting the ground
Threatening dogs
Personal demons
Hurting people
Hurting people and not caring
Being alone
People without the ability to reason against themselves
Animals with the wrong number of eyes
Being trapped
Self-disgust
Emotional whores
Small tornadoes
Large tornadoes
The ends of needles breaking off under my skin
Being lost
Being eaten alive
Eating something alive
Split fingernails
Insects that lay eggs under your skin
False happiness
Certain jellyfish
Drowning in something other than water (sand, rotted vegetables, liquefied pigs, etc)
Having eyes stabbed out/sewn shut
Evil
Sep 14, 2007
Padded gloves give me bloody knuckles
Do you know the secret to not caring what people think of you? Give them something to care about.
In other news: I think it's time I gave an explanation of the title.
The title "Soul in Back Pocket" comes from a saying of mine. It goes "Life in hands, brain in head, soul in back pocket." Like a checklist. I don't know why, but saying it to myself makes me feel secure, in control. Like my life truly is in my own hands, my brain is being used to its best effect, and my soul is where I can keep an eye on it.
And maybe it's because I need that confirmation. I need to know that I'm still in control of who I am. That I'm not going to become something I don't want to be. There are times when I slip into my... darker... self, and do things I am not proud of. The thought of unleashing my dark side permanently makes me feel... guilty. Helpless. Dangerous.
That's why I've always needed an anchor. Someone to remind me who I am.
And because I feel like it, here's in my opinion one of the greatest songs of ALL TIME.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=9x80_txSFbI
In other news: I think it's time I gave an explanation of the title.
The title "Soul in Back Pocket" comes from a saying of mine. It goes "Life in hands, brain in head, soul in back pocket." Like a checklist. I don't know why, but saying it to myself makes me feel secure, in control. Like my life truly is in my own hands, my brain is being used to its best effect, and my soul is where I can keep an eye on it.
And maybe it's because I need that confirmation. I need to know that I'm still in control of who I am. That I'm not going to become something I don't want to be. There are times when I slip into my... darker... self, and do things I am not proud of. The thought of unleashing my dark side permanently makes me feel... guilty. Helpless. Dangerous.
That's why I've always needed an anchor. Someone to remind me who I am.
And because I feel like it, here's in my opinion one of the greatest songs of ALL TIME.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=9x80_txSFbI
Sep 13, 2007
Feeling paranoid about lesbians
...
... seems to be all I can say now.
There's a squashed bug on one of my papers. I have no idea how it got there. You can still make out the shape of its head and three of its six little legs. It's left a large orange stain all around it.
I'm not sure why I'm saying this. Maybe I just felt like it.
The taste of something alien still lingers in my mouth. In no way unpleasant, just alien, different, and I can't remember if I wanted it there.
Hats... for clowns... lalalalalalala...
It seems everyone I talk to have parents who've split up, or know someone who's died. Sometimes I seem like the only normal person around.
I'm not. But sometimes it seems like it.
Maybe having nothing good to say about your life is normal now.
I heard a story today about a girl on drugs who was hit by a train. Her body was completely broken, you could have peeled her off the tracks with a spatula, but she was still alive and moaning in pain.
It doesn't seem right.
But then it never was, was it?
I know who I'm starting to sound like.
Maybe that's what I wanted.
Maybe I should just shut up now.
... seems to be all I can say now.
There's a squashed bug on one of my papers. I have no idea how it got there. You can still make out the shape of its head and three of its six little legs. It's left a large orange stain all around it.
I'm not sure why I'm saying this. Maybe I just felt like it.
The taste of something alien still lingers in my mouth. In no way unpleasant, just alien, different, and I can't remember if I wanted it there.
Hats... for clowns... lalalalalalala...
It seems everyone I talk to have parents who've split up, or know someone who's died. Sometimes I seem like the only normal person around.
I'm not. But sometimes it seems like it.
Maybe having nothing good to say about your life is normal now.
I heard a story today about a girl on drugs who was hit by a train. Her body was completely broken, you could have peeled her off the tracks with a spatula, but she was still alive and moaning in pain.
It doesn't seem right.
But then it never was, was it?
I know who I'm starting to sound like.
Maybe that's what I wanted.
Maybe I should just shut up now.
Sep 12, 2007
One frog, two lillies
How is it that people can love things they know nothing about?
Take me, for example. Guess what my favorite food is? It's eel. You know, the kind of snakey thing that lives in the water. But you know what else? I've only had it twice. Well, more than twice, but it's only good if it's properly cooked. I've had the good stuff twice.
Favorite video game? Super Mario RPG, hailed by all who have played it as the greatest RPG of all time. Of which I have no doubt. I have researched this game until I know everything there is to know about it, listened to every midi, determined the best strategy for every boss, watched countless videos... and yet, I've never laid eyes on the thing. I actually don't know if I'd find it fun or not.
Favorite TV show? Lexx. And I've only seen one episode. Yet... this is just too awesome for it not to be my favorite.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=PAlq8ykyE3I
Now, all these things are fairly trivial. But think: most people make most major decisions in their lives without considering all the details. Where you're going on vacation, where you're going to live, what university you're going to, the job you're going to take, the political party you support, your religion, who you marry, even whether to look both ways before crossing the street. We make these decisions on impulse. Does it not seem strange that people do this? The vast majority of the world constantly makes careless decisions that causes people to live unhappy lives. I'm no hypocrite; even I do this. But at least I'm aware of what I'm doing. Now that I know I can change.
People need to think about things more. Just in general. But this new world is all about speed; making quick decisions, and lots of them. There are near seven billion of us on the planet now, yet somehow there seems to be even more work to go around per person. Does no one else find this strange? I do.
So I'll think. I'll plan. I'll work things out for those who've lost the ability to think for themselves. Maybe that's a bit ambitious, but someone has to try. And in the meantime... I'll try to find someone who has Super Mario RPG.
Take me, for example. Guess what my favorite food is? It's eel. You know, the kind of snakey thing that lives in the water. But you know what else? I've only had it twice. Well, more than twice, but it's only good if it's properly cooked. I've had the good stuff twice.
Favorite video game? Super Mario RPG, hailed by all who have played it as the greatest RPG of all time. Of which I have no doubt. I have researched this game until I know everything there is to know about it, listened to every midi, determined the best strategy for every boss, watched countless videos... and yet, I've never laid eyes on the thing. I actually don't know if I'd find it fun or not.
Favorite TV show? Lexx. And I've only seen one episode. Yet... this is just too awesome for it not to be my favorite.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=PAlq8ykyE3I
Now, all these things are fairly trivial. But think: most people make most major decisions in their lives without considering all the details. Where you're going on vacation, where you're going to live, what university you're going to, the job you're going to take, the political party you support, your religion, who you marry, even whether to look both ways before crossing the street. We make these decisions on impulse. Does it not seem strange that people do this? The vast majority of the world constantly makes careless decisions that causes people to live unhappy lives. I'm no hypocrite; even I do this. But at least I'm aware of what I'm doing. Now that I know I can change.
People need to think about things more. Just in general. But this new world is all about speed; making quick decisions, and lots of them. There are near seven billion of us on the planet now, yet somehow there seems to be even more work to go around per person. Does no one else find this strange? I do.
So I'll think. I'll plan. I'll work things out for those who've lost the ability to think for themselves. Maybe that's a bit ambitious, but someone has to try. And in the meantime... I'll try to find someone who has Super Mario RPG.
Sep 11, 2007
The wii is gone
I've kissed two people on the cheek today. Completely different people, at completely different times, for completely different reasons.
Why do people kiss?
Is it supposed to be serious, or just for fun? Intimate or public? Friendly or passionate? To prove something or just because we can? Maybe it's all of these things. Maybe it's none. But the answer always varies, depending on who you ask. Maybe there is no meaning. Or maybe the meaning is just for none of us to decide.
A kiss, like love, is a word now never used. It's always "making out" meaning trying to swallow the other person. It's strange how emotions and the words used to describe them have mutated so much in recent years.
Also, here's a song I've had stuck in my head all day:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=SOcyayIVieo
Why do people kiss?
Is it supposed to be serious, or just for fun? Intimate or public? Friendly or passionate? To prove something or just because we can? Maybe it's all of these things. Maybe it's none. But the answer always varies, depending on who you ask. Maybe there is no meaning. Or maybe the meaning is just for none of us to decide.
A kiss, like love, is a word now never used. It's always "making out" meaning trying to swallow the other person. It's strange how emotions and the words used to describe them have mutated so much in recent years.
Also, here's a song I've had stuck in my head all day:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=SOcyayIVieo
Sep 10, 2007
The burningness of milk
Earlier today I overheard an interesting conversation.
Now, for future reference: I don't eavesdrop. I am not a stalker. But I'm always watching, always listening, and occasionally I hear something interesting. The people in question knew perfectly well I was there and that I could hear every word I was saying. However, people seem to naturally ignore me. So if I ever tell a story about some people I randomly overheard, please remember this is entirely coincidental. I am not a stalker. Are we clear? Thank you.
Anyway. These two girls were talking about one of their friends. She, evidently, was seeing someone a year younger than her who was not only an arrogant arsehole but also only in it for the "bow chica wow wow". Both expressed their concerns that she was going to get screwed over, so they agreed to set her up with a really nice guy they knew.
Okay, quick question: WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?!? Sorry for the caps, that just had to be said.
First and foremost: What are these fifteen-year olds doing screwing each other? How have we stepped so far backwards? I must do a rant about this sometime.
Another thing: Why is the assumption that the relationship isn't important? I thoroughly despise the idea of trophy girlfriends, yet in this day and age it seems to be the only idea we have. Are relationships all about sex? Are they? You tell me.
Honestly, if she's with him it's because she chose him, isn't it? If he's a stupid person then she made a stupid choice, and if she made a stupid choice then well they deserve each other, don't they?
One more. Are people cattle? What gives these two the right to set someone up with someone else just because they're not happy about it? She chose him. Is that not enough? And this other guy. They're convinced that she deserves better, that he's good enough for her. If she's the sort who chooses lust-driven arseholes as boyfriends... maybe he deserves better than her?
Maybe I should have said something. But then, nothing would have changed. I'm just the observer.
Do you notice nobody ever says "love" anymore? It's all about "liking" someone, which, and let's be honest here, doesn't mean anything. No one knows what love is anymore. Really, it's astonishing that people can find lasting relationships at all anymore.
And, because I'm still experimenting, here's a picture:
Now, for future reference: I don't eavesdrop. I am not a stalker. But I'm always watching, always listening, and occasionally I hear something interesting. The people in question knew perfectly well I was there and that I could hear every word I was saying. However, people seem to naturally ignore me. So if I ever tell a story about some people I randomly overheard, please remember this is entirely coincidental. I am not a stalker. Are we clear? Thank you.
Anyway. These two girls were talking about one of their friends. She, evidently, was seeing someone a year younger than her who was not only an arrogant arsehole but also only in it for the "bow chica wow wow". Both expressed their concerns that she was going to get screwed over, so they agreed to set her up with a really nice guy they knew.
Okay, quick question: WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?!? Sorry for the caps, that just had to be said.
First and foremost: What are these fifteen-year olds doing screwing each other? How have we stepped so far backwards? I must do a rant about this sometime.
Another thing: Why is the assumption that the relationship isn't important? I thoroughly despise the idea of trophy girlfriends, yet in this day and age it seems to be the only idea we have. Are relationships all about sex? Are they? You tell me.
Honestly, if she's with him it's because she chose him, isn't it? If he's a stupid person then she made a stupid choice, and if she made a stupid choice then well they deserve each other, don't they?
One more. Are people cattle? What gives these two the right to set someone up with someone else just because they're not happy about it? She chose him. Is that not enough? And this other guy. They're convinced that she deserves better, that he's good enough for her. If she's the sort who chooses lust-driven arseholes as boyfriends... maybe he deserves better than her?
Maybe I should have said something. But then, nothing would have changed. I'm just the observer.
Do you notice nobody ever says "love" anymore? It's all about "liking" someone, which, and let's be honest here, doesn't mean anything. No one knows what love is anymore. Really, it's astonishing that people can find lasting relationships at all anymore.
And, because I'm still experimenting, here's a picture:
Sep 9, 2007
Why do I have a blog?
Allo. This is my blog.
It seems everyone has a blog these days. All right, maybe not everyone. But there are a lot. Seriously, a lot. Think about it. Anyone with access to a computer now can have a blog. Posting random stuff online. And pretty much everyone will, because everyone is doing it. If it can be done it will, and all that. There just seems to be the pressing need to make yourself seen, make your views public, get your thoughts and opinions out there! Yeah, you just keep telling yourself you're making a difference. But how many people actually take the time to read these things? I do a lot of random internet searches, but I don't stop to read random blogs like mine. I'm fairly sure that at most four people will read this, including the ones I actually invite, and that's only if I'm lucky. So... why do I even bother? Why do I have a blog?
I'm not totally sure.
I hardly know how to use the thing, for one thing. There are lots of customization options, for one thing, but it may as well be written in Cambodian for all I can understand of it. I can't even upload my own template, because A) I don't have a template to upload, B) I don't know how to get templates to upload, and C) I wouldn't know how to upload it if I had one. Yes, I am that bad with computers. So I'm stuck with the most basic stuff available. Not that I even have much to put in it. Hmm... okay, maybe I do. But not much of it is going up there. Not only don't I really have much time to be doing this, let's face it, I'm going to lose intrest here fairly quickly. The question remains, why do I have a blog?
I guess I just need somewhere to vent, even if I may be talking to a wall. This is a new method of relieving stress for me. I suppose the reason I have a blog is because I can't scream. If I could, I would just scream in frustration until I felt better. As it is, I can just blog.
So here it is. My life, on the page. It is with minimal pleasure and a great deal of sarcasm that I present to you my blog, the blog of the Sevenfold spirit and spiritual sister blog to Shallow Moons and Broken Hearts... Soul in Back Pocket. Enjoy, if you think it's neccessary.
It seems everyone has a blog these days. All right, maybe not everyone. But there are a lot. Seriously, a lot. Think about it. Anyone with access to a computer now can have a blog. Posting random stuff online. And pretty much everyone will, because everyone is doing it. If it can be done it will, and all that. There just seems to be the pressing need to make yourself seen, make your views public, get your thoughts and opinions out there! Yeah, you just keep telling yourself you're making a difference. But how many people actually take the time to read these things? I do a lot of random internet searches, but I don't stop to read random blogs like mine. I'm fairly sure that at most four people will read this, including the ones I actually invite, and that's only if I'm lucky. So... why do I even bother? Why do I have a blog?
I'm not totally sure.
I hardly know how to use the thing, for one thing. There are lots of customization options, for one thing, but it may as well be written in Cambodian for all I can understand of it. I can't even upload my own template, because A) I don't have a template to upload, B) I don't know how to get templates to upload, and C) I wouldn't know how to upload it if I had one. Yes, I am that bad with computers. So I'm stuck with the most basic stuff available. Not that I even have much to put in it. Hmm... okay, maybe I do. But not much of it is going up there. Not only don't I really have much time to be doing this, let's face it, I'm going to lose intrest here fairly quickly. The question remains, why do I have a blog?
I guess I just need somewhere to vent, even if I may be talking to a wall. This is a new method of relieving stress for me. I suppose the reason I have a blog is because I can't scream. If I could, I would just scream in frustration until I felt better. As it is, I can just blog.
So here it is. My life, on the page. It is with minimal pleasure and a great deal of sarcasm that I present to you my blog, the blog of the Sevenfold spirit and spiritual sister blog to Shallow Moons and Broken Hearts... Soul in Back Pocket. Enjoy, if you think it's neccessary.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)