It started with a glance We only met by chance I was but a young boy and she the new school toy a girl from a far state and me with none to hate she'd be my target, my focus and I the one she wished to get locusts five years this did we endure and then feelings changed from what they were before a friendship, a bond something that was time beyond orbitting round each other like planets think of one another with the odd regrets is fate playing a game most cruel or are these meetings simply fuel gas to keep alight the flame as we journey and play cupid's game being shot once is never enough ignoring it thrice is even more tough maybe I am hers and she mine but that's an answer only time may find hate to star crossed lovers confusion under ignorance's covers I wonder if she wonders of me as I think of her repeatedly time may pass, the years may soar but it's inevitable that I shall see her more one day we won't walk away one day we'll stay there will be joy from out mothers and congradulations from others life can't simply be taunting but the implications, they are so daunting thinking of him yet again won'drin if he is more than a freind maybe he's not a leaf in this tree of my life but more of a root meant to stand by me in strife will I ever find another who means as much can another be my stable crutch life is teasing us, that's what this is no love is fleeing us, cupid's fickle biz I'll be thinking of him as I die wondering, always wondering why why did we meet, not once but ten times hence why did we venture where I haven't gone since
That's where I stand right now. I need to rant. I need to vent. DO NOT correct me on anything, I need to say this. First, Obama. I am happpy that a black man has made it to the presidency. That said, I don't give a damn that he's biracial, that he's black, that he's white. He is a MAN. Only a man, a very lucky and prophetic man, but man none the less. People put him on a pedestal and either stare up at him in awe or aim and shoot until he falls. Leave him the hell alone. Allow him to do his job. Support him, hate him, it's your own perogative, but it's got nothing to do with race....it's you, deal with it. And, I cannot believe that there are black people out there saying "he owes his people." Bush owed his people. Washington owed his people. Nixon his people. They all had people to answer to, but nobody balked about it ev-ery frick-en day. They did their jobs to the best of their abilities. Obama will be no different; his wife would never allow that and niether would we as the American people. I'll say it once more: He is not a Black President; he is president who happens to be black (mulatto if you want to be anal). The Presidency is bigger than any one man, or woman. We are progressing, so stop holding us back. JUST STOP Second, abortion. Chris Rock made a pretty damned good point about it, "it's abunch of men arguing about a woman's body; I wouldn't want women votin' on my balls." So many people assume that abortions are an act of convenience for promiscuous women. They are not. Sometimes it's about life or death. Could you imagine being a woman who knows that, within the next nine months, either she or her unborn child will be dead? Could you imagine being the victim of a rape, carrying the seed of your attacker? Could you imagine knowing that there is no way your child will ever "live" like other children; could you bring your chhild into this world knowing that he or she will be subjected to a life of ridicule and machines and always knowing that he or she is different and will never ever be like his or her peers? Can you imagine that? I've been on the wrong side of blind laws and regulations that overgeneralize. Just because an abortion may be used for a woman who wasnt ready for her consequences doesn't mean that they ALL are. And, I am so sorry to have to say this, it will piss somebody off, there is no real point in arguing when life begins. Science has answered that question, the heart takes it's first beats in as little as 30 days into gestation. The question we need to focus on is when the body understands. People don't realize that there is a time when the female body feels a parasite, not a growing child. I'm stoppping myself about this, but saying one last thing on abortion: I don't think anybody has the effing right to tell a woman that she cannot do as she pleases with her body (it's bad enough that married women cannot get their tubes tied without their husbands consent yet married men can get vascectomies without a second thought); but I can only hope that women do not abuse the gift of that option. May I never need it. I guess you can guess which thread made me want to write this, but I was pissed, am pissed, and will continue to be pissed until people back the heck off. Don't judge unless you are the highest entities. And none of them walk on Earth. Crap, now I am crying...
Dido once sang, "I will go down with this ship. I wo't put my hands high in surrender. There will be no white flag above my door, I'm in love, and always will be." I never thought I'd be that kind of girl, falling "blindly in love," not seeing beyond the eyes of the guy I find myself wanting so badly. Not that I am now, I'm just teetering too close to the edge of it all. Even in middle school, I couldn't date somebody I didn't see going anywhere. I'm not a gold-digger, I just figured out early in life that the neediest of men and boys are the ones who have no ambition. If they've nothing to focus on, then they will focus on you untill you lose focus on yourself. I don't want to have to say "I love you" everyday, saying it that often means one of us is lying or the other one needs to be reminded. Why should I have to remind you I love you? I can't be that cold and calculating that you can't see that I love you. I cannot stand dating a needy guy. And even worse, I don't like throwing my emotions on the line if I am not sure where said line is being cast. My emotions will not be the lure which baits you to me. That brings me back to the pint of this all. I told a guy, oh, two months ago that I'd liked him for about three months at that point. It was funny too, I had planned to tell him, but he wasn't at school and it slipped to his best friend who I had also befriended. Now, because of his best friend, it slipped to his sister. She was exstatic about it, just waiting for me to ask him out. Little did she know, I wasn't going to push it that far, I just wanted him to know I liked him. So I called him the night I told his friend. He said, "Okay." That's all. Okay is worse than "No." No means that I get to move on, don't need to wonder how you feel, I know, so I move on. Okay is like being on thin ice, suspended over my own emotions, confused as to which way to skate off to. Do I push you 'til you say yes or no? Do I simply stand here as the ice disappears beneath me? Or do I just act as if nothing happened? I took Option C, and it was a mutual decision. Sure, I got the funny looks when he realized that another of my guy friends hits on me, and hits on me hard (note to self, tell him "no dice dude, no dice"); and yeah, I'd get the odd habit like stealing my food after I've started eating from it; or the taking my swizzel sticks after the sugar was gone (I have never know somebody to want a wooden stick that used to have sugar on it, never in my life until him); but I never got a definite answer or response from him. We just went along as if nothing happened. And nobody was in his mind to give me a clue. And I had decided that all I could do was tell him. Yeah, I broke my own rule, I cast my emotions out on that line, but ne'ry a fish did I catch. Said fish has recently done the last thing I'd have though him to do. Well, not "him" as him, more like "him" as I a guy I liked. Like, present tense, still like him, and he's still a drop-out. And I still like him. Emotions should come with manuals, "The How To of Being You." But nobody'd read them, sooo...anyhoo. I will go down with this ship, I'll just be holding my hands high in surrender. That white flag has been stained blue, and, if a certain Panda is reading this, nothing's changed, I still like you.
Lilinka had bathed and dressed the girl and now they were winding their way back to Schi's chamber. Ten women sat in waiting of their newest sister, each one more worried for the mere child than she had ever worried for herself. Danily, with her crimson eyes and flowing red hair, leaned over and cupped her hand around Clashna's ear, "I can only imagine what he has in store for her, she is but a cloud of a child." Clashna ran her fingers through her own red hair and looked over at her sister, "Yes, she is more rare a gem than any of us could have been, he needs to stop collecting or there will be none left for the good men of the lands." The thought struck her suddenly, "How do you suppose he found her? She is of none of our homelands." Danily shook her head, "How am I to know? I have been here as long as you, and niether of have seen the sun nor moon- Dainya might know, she once spoke of a cloud like child." Clashna nodded and stood up before bowing to Schi, he did not take well to his jewels not staying in their places, "Sir, may I converse with Dainya so that she may teach me her weaving?" Schi waved his hand and returned to his pipe, inhaling deeply and forgetting where he was. Clashna bowed once more before scuddling down the line to Dainya and sitting in the now vacant pillow that was once Gaiyla's. "Hello sister, will you please show me your crafts?" Dainya gave her a knowing look and nodded, "Yes, I would be honored to share my craft with you." She pulled the girl into a hug, and whispered, "Of what do you want to know?" Clashna returned the hug and responded just as low, "Have you knowledge of how he found her, the cloud girl?" Dainya nodded, "Yes, we must first start with thick fibers, but I have none on me." She stood and bowed to Schi, "Master Schi, may I please escort sister Clashna to my chamber of supplies?" Another dismissive wave from Schi and the women were off. The two women left the chamber together and began winding their way towards Dainya's supply chamber, her gift for her many years of service to Schi- she was his first and only wife. Dainya stopped suddenly, lifting a finger to her mouth. Clashna obliged and stood still. The sound of footsteps could be heard growing closer, they were light, not that of a warrior. Dainya gestured for Clashna to intercept them. She nodded and turned down the hallway and around the bend. She reached them quickly and gestured closing her lips before grasping their shoulders and guiding them back to where Dainya stood. Dainya took the little girl's hand and gestured for the two women to follow her. It was but a short walk, two bends of the tunnel and one shallow incline, before they reached her chamber. Lliliean looked in awe at the massive chamber, almost as grand as Schi's own had been. It was lined with nooks and shelves, each engulfed with various trinkets and tools, and other memorabelia. One thing in particular caught the young girl's eye. "Mellanor!" She cried and looked to Dainya for permission. Dainya nodded and released her hand, the little girl charging across the chamber to the sword. She lifted it in her two hands as if it were the very body of her mother, her brothers, her father. She knelt on the floor and began to cry, the tears cascading down her face and onto the sword like raindrops from a cloud. The three women knelt next to her, Dainya to the North, Lilianka to East, and Clashna to the West. Each laid a hand upon the child as she sang the song of her people, the three songs intertwining into one mournful cry of homesickness, grief, and even joy in sorrow. As their songs closed, each laid a kiss upon the girl's head. Lliliean looked each in the eye, "What are your names?" Dainya lowered her head first, the eldest, "Dainya Schi, your sister from the North." Clashna lowered her head next, "Clashna Nevari, your sister from the West." "And I am Lilianka Marderete, your sister from the East. We welcome you and mourn you at the same time." Her face expressed a deep sadness. It had always been her nature to worry for those more vulnerable than others.
That is not only an allusion to my new favorite/mainstay song by Linkin Park- it also titles my latest observation in life. See, I try to live a good life, I've never done anything illegal, I work hard at most everything I do- but I can never shake this nagging feeling that, if I were to die tomorrow, there would be only a handful of people that would remember the person that is me ten years afterwards. It's not so much a rant of a depressed person- I've been counseled and declared "too aware of the emotions around" me- so much as yet one more sign that I am a loner. I cannot say that I have any true, tangible friends. And, what's worst, I am used to it...very used to it. On this website, I am happy to say that there are people that I can see actually care and all, but I am really just an avatar with a literary voice- a Vomvo with a smart-assed attitude- you all haven't seen each of the facets that I have, and you can ask my mother, I have a great many facets. What's worse than that other worse is that the problem is who I am- I am so eclectic that it's too hard to read me and pin me. I am passive agressive yet assertive. Assertive, yet I am submissive. Strong willed and minded, yet I can be swayed. I am an overachiveing procrastinator. I am what happens when you take a blue sky and give it a tornado to play with- if that doesn't make sense, then you fully understand what I've just said. I don't even understand me. Yeah, yeah, I'm only sixteen I've "my whole life ahead" of me. That's not good enough, I want to know, really be able to tell. I was always the "that kid's going places" kid, but never the person they knew was headed somewhere specific. I've been asked to fill my own shoes- that is so much harder than you'd think. I don't know what size they are, what style, what purpose they serve....they're a concept in somebody's mind, but theyre supposed to be my Glass Slippers, only I can fit them, if only I could find them...and I can't be trusted with glass... I already know that many people will not miss me, in fact, they will forget me- I wholy accept that, but I just wish I could count on more than one hand the number of non-relatives' lives I have impacted in a good way...I want to know that there is somebody out there that can think of my name and smile, even if I am not always doing so. That feeling is the best in the world to me- I would live a thousand lives' deppressions if it meant that one person never had to see even a bittersweet one. A long time ago, I decided that life is simply a series of detours, there is only one place you'll ever end up when you die, and it's already waiting for you, it's all a matter of what choices you've made and steps have you taken to arrive there. Sometimes the scenic route is better than the short-cut, and sometimes we are meant to dissappoint yourself a thousand times over before you finally find yourself the victor. As much as it hurts, I won't win every battle, but I'm telling you all now, I'll be damned if I lose the war- whether I fight it alone or not, I will be damned I lose my war. Paz, and may your words flow and your keys never strike back.
I have often heard of actors whom "become" their current role as a way to better understand the character. I never would have thought that there was a such thing as a "Method Writer," but I think I am one. I realized this first when I started playing RPG- I felt like I was in the mind of my characters. I often had to remind myself that the members and their respective characters were not the same entities- and that I could not start fires with the mere thought of doing so, could have been fun though I truly understood the whole concept when I started working on Carlin's Toys, if I am not thinking like Alaskas would, and trying best to make my mood match that of the current tone, then the writing is weak. I often feel writers' block and have to reread everything so that I have run the same gamut of emotions as my MC, Alaska, and have returned to her mindset. I think this is part of the reason my characters seem to linger in my mind after I've finished "dealing" with them, and it's also the reason I cannot write a character too like myself- there's no fun in playing yourself A good thing, though, is that the characteristics that my characters have and I could definitly benefit from tend to "rub off" on me so I find myself gaining Chrys' steel and Alaska's ability to detatch. Long story short, ie my point in this, am I the only one who finds his/herself in this situaion when writing?
I went from your favorite doll to your cast away Oh ba- baby are you afraid to play the way that you did be-fore? Why, is it because I'm not so fragile anymore You kicked me out of the toybox and I grew me some bullocks and won't be kicked around like before Are you terrified of the woman that you see please say you're not surprised 'cause she's been inside all this time Don't let her scare you away come on back to me, let's play but you're so afraid you kicked me out of the toybox and then I found the strength I lacked and baby- ain't no going back
show a little kid a pretty color and you've given her the rainbow show her a butterfly and she's seen a flitting fairy show her the moon she'll aim for the stars show her compassion and she'll know love show her a smile and she'll know joy show her the sun and she'll see the galaxy show her you care and she'll want for nothing
When, in the course of a relationship, it becomes necessary for one partner to dissolve all personal bonds which have connected it with another and to assume among thyself the strength and independence which the heart and soul demand it utilizes, a decent acknowledgement of who she is demands that she should declare the causes which impel her to separation. I hold these truths to be self-evident, that I have lived without you, that I possess the intelligence and skill to continue to live without you, and that I am endowed with Maternal Instincts, that among these are to protect my children, provide for my children, and protect myself so that I may protect my children another day, -That, to secure the abilities to fulfill my duties, I must spare myself of the insufferable leach which has attached itself to my heart, body, and soul. Retrospect shall indeed tell, no-scream, that I should have absolved myself from you many years before. But, alas, many bloody nights shall pass before one sees the light of freedom; and none enters the journey only to end it without a fight. But, when one fights battle after battle never to be the victor, only the spoils, it is her duty to stand firm and get away for this battle is not, nor the war, one that she can win. The history of this relationship is a history of repeated abuses and unspeakable acts, all having a direct object in establishing my fear and the near absolute control you have over me. To reiterate this, allow me to present the “highlights” of our relationship. You all but eradicated my former sense of self. You’ve imprisoned me within the world of what you believe. You have forced many a seed upon me and then forced them from me. That shall not happen again. You have refused my wishes for what we should, and could, be. You have succeeded in killing me in only a way that a truly psychotic, heartless man could, stripping from me the fiber which characterized me at one time and leaving me raw and vulnerable. You have forced upon me beliefs and habits of which I will take pleasure in eradicating myself of. You have decided and demonstrated that, in your eyes, I am not a woman, but a vessel born only to satisfy your beck, call, wish, command, and sinister plot. You have deemed yourself my Judge, Jury, and Executioner. And, although you believe that the wool sits snugly over my eyes, you have committed one betrayal of fidelity after another with the one I once considered a sister. For beating me until I bruise like a coloring book. For demeaning me below even your alcohol. For lifting my hopes, only to dash my dreams. For depriving me of my sanity. For isolating me from my support system. For imposing yourself upon me. For taking a way even my animalistic want to survive. You have taken away all traces of my resiliency, or so you would have me believe. I have begged and pleaded and tried time after time to mend and alter our relationship and situation; but you turned away and ignored my every attempt. I, therefore, deem it necessary that we no longer call ourselves a couple. No, we need to sever every last tie, but two, which connect us. I need to live life as a woman beholden only to herself and her children and no longer to the spiritual leach that has latched and clung to her for so many years. By “the leach,” I mean you. And by “sever all ties,” I mean to say that I am Declaring myself Independent of you and returning to the woman I was before this chapter in my life, with a few changes of course. )this was a hw assignment, but I was proud of mehself(
Sometimes I wonder if I exist at all, or if I'm just the figment of a collective imagination. I see that all those around me are alive, but I just survive. I can't live life to the fullest, and won't be able to change that- sadly. I wonder often, if I'm missing something, that Happy Teen Gene that so many seem to flaunt, but alas- I don't possess. I try to smile, it gets me nowhere. I try to laugh, it gets me nowhere. I try to blend in, but I can't. And, it seems, I have personalites not even I have met. They seem to take over, just as I think I'm winning somebody over. And then I lose it all. Down...dOwn...doWn...dowN... I fall. Sure I accomplish things, but it doesn't really matter if not a soul cares. So, on through life shall I ghost. Floating here, there, oblivious, aware. A barnacle of sociality, among so many, yet alone perpetually. So, please don't be surprised if you say "Hi," and recieve a truly startled, "Oh, you can see me?!"
MOst memebers that know me also know about my fictional stalker, Chrys. Chrys was an RPG character of mine that followed me around for a good month after the first RPG and widdled her way into two following RPGs. I am quite happy to say that she no longer bugs the hell out of me I "met" a much nicer ROG character, Alaska, who is much more willing to allow me to write her a narrative in piece and not try to infiltrate my mind. Now, this is what I think would happen if Chrys and Alaska met: {Alaska walks into the Kids Playhouse, the loca family hangout, with her twins and sends them to the play area while she rests. Sitting next to her is a woman with cat ears, eyes, and tail and fur. She looks at her.} A~Uh, how'd that happen? C~Is it necessary that you ask that? A~Is it neccessary that you take that tone? {Chrys notices a little tag that hangs almost unnoticably from Alaska's belt.} C~"Creation of Tor." Would that be the one that was in the Phoenix COlony? A~Maybe. C~ You're the bit she abandoned me for! Give her back! She was developing my story! A~I advise you to calm your feline ass down and not mess with a mad dog- that's how kittens lose whiskers, and maybe an ear if you piss me off enough. Besides, she writing mine at the moment. C~That's it, {Chrys pulls out a can of spray paint and a lighter} Don't make me use this! A~Oh, you're that whack job cat chick with the multiple personalities and litter of kids. She told me about you-said she's happy you're gone. C~Take it back or I will use everything you mentioned against you! A~HOney, actually know how to fight and will kick your little kitten ass if you don't leave me the hell alone. {Stands up and calls for the twins.} {Chrys calls for her childern. Eight children appear, six of them with tails and cat ears.} C~Heh, that's all you got? Two? A~YEah, cause it's so much fun to carry a whole danged litter of kids. Why don't you leave me the hell alone, like a said before, or I will not only kick your ass, but I'll have my husband kill you in your sleep. {Chrys folows her children as the y bolt out the door. Screaming over her shoulder} C~This isn't over you female dog you!
I was dumb enough to fall in love Slowly, silently With my lips seared tight To watch my affection grow and become something I didn't know Sure, I'm still me too damned stubborn not to be But I can see what I'm doing The subtle little things just for a hint of attention the little favors that I now see might misconstrue my intentions I'm helping someone else yet feeling pain myself But then again I've always been slighltly masochistic And never one for simplistic They all tell me not to think just do cause the heart knows what's true But even my heart will flutter and plead that my lips not a word mutter even as my brain screams to do something but I couldn't do that that'd be rushing out on a limb and I'm a wee to afraid for that So, I'll just sit back As I realize just how stupid I'm being And how oblivious my affection is for not seeing I am dumb enough to fall in love Slowly Silently Goddangit how I want to scream
I just realized that I'm writing a novel! I don't know who has been reading the blogs I've been posting, but I was posting as I wrote them up on MSword, but stopped when I reached the blog entry "Page 12." I'm on MSword Page 39 and, according to it's built in word couner, I've reached 18,545 words. I know, I know, that's a novela, untill you consider that I just wrote the main climax and have yet to even begin its resolution yet alone the next climax of the story. I didn't even know I had it in me. Right nowm though, I have to thank some members because there'd be no story if not fot them. Flakes&Fins, thank you for creating Carnapolis, Alaska's home before home. Charisma, I have to thank you because Morty would be nothing without Gazania, and neither would Alaska for that fact. And Foxee for being one of Alaska's first customers. I have to thank Shadow Dragon for pushing me along and listening to my rambles. And finally, Ungood. Thank you for dear old John Doe, Alaska would be nothing without her knight Thanks again everybody Apparently you'll have to go to the links to see the smilies
Random thoughts they're like my friends the only entity on which I depend these thoughts take me everywhere free me from something yet giving me nothing maybe that's a lie they have handed me gifts like Alaska like Chrys my hopes my dreams my goals my beliefs all are the gifts of my random thoughts my secret plots things that develop for naught i know there will be those that have a problem with how I've written this well, boo and hoo it's my style not yours I've left the path I originally started and remember not the shore from which I departed this has no scheme no pattern and I've come to realize it's losing its meaning so, this I end and return to my friend Hello there, random thought What gift of the moment have you got?
If you like me, you'll telll me where to find Schrei in stores. If you don't know, then I won't hold it against you. But, I really want the album in German and none of my local stores hold it, how evil! PS, if you have no clue what I''m talking about, then follow this link, it's the title song: Oh, here it is in english: