Time and Mind Occupants

Ah, crap.

2010-04-16T15:16:00.000-07:00

Was working on my DF character a little more when I realized that the Knight before Sanya (the character I'm making) has been expressly identified as Egyptian. Which isn't a bad thing, I had just forgotten. So, instead of his last name being Jaratt, it's Setanu. Also, instead of being descended from Frederick the Fair, he's descended from the Pharaoh Khufu (yeah--Cheops. The guy who had the Pyramids at Giza built).

Eh. Something.

2010-04-14T20:23:00.000-07:00

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages. I don't have anything particular to say today. I just know that it's been a while since I've written here (I've been keeping a journal instead) and I just sort of have that "MUST WRITE SOMETHING" urge.

My new glasses came today. They're a lot stronger than what I'm used to, and they've also got rims along the bottom (my old ones were rimless). They're pretty cool, actually. The color is called "turtle" and they look like Clark Kent glasses or something. Kind of dorky, almost, but I like it. The only downside is that they forced me to actually stop and consider my appearance so: "Damn, I need a hair-cut..." and "the fuck is going on with this torn-ass sweater" are a few things that grabbed my attention.

As any of you readers who know me likely already know, I got those Dresden Files books. They're awesome. A cream dream. There's so much information in them that I can't begin to coherently do any work with the game because I'm jumping around so damn much. "Omg Denarians--Wow, Channeling is kind of cool. How does hexing work? Mouse is a scion? Why bother statting Butters?" Etc, etc. As you can imagine, with all this kind of detailed-meaty stuff to read I've been too distracted to stop and JUST read the rules first. But whatever, I've got awhile until any of my potential group members are anywhere near ready. Also, Character/City creation is meant to be done together as a group, so all I can do right now is conceptualize my characters. Plus, chances are I'm going to be the GM, so any characters I make will just be NPC allies and enemies of the PC's.

On a decidedly unrelated note, I hate people with poor communication skills. You try and try to get ahold of them, and when you finally do, they either misinterpret what you're trying to say, make little sense, or spontaneously drop the contact and abruptly move onto something else.

For someone who tends to have an ordered mind, it's maddening.

Anyway, more reading to be done.

Here we go again...

2010-04-03T17:39:00.000-07:00

I'm upset. Again. I was sifting through my thoughts, ordering them that I might write a blog and try to feel a little bit better. After a few moments, I realized that these thoughts have already come and go in the past, and that writing a blog with more or less the same message as a previous blog, is a waste of time.

Here is an excerpt from that post:

"I fear that it will always be this way, a tumultuous sea of depression, with short cresting moments of hope and possible happiness, immediately followed with long, dismal and dark troughs of sorrow and brooding."

I hate it when I'm right. Damn it all, I hate it.

If you're that interested in knowing how I'm feeling and what I'm thinking at the moment, it's basically this, but in the context of my relationship, or lack thereof, with Anthony. Then again, nobody read that blog when I first wrote it, so who the fuck is going to comment on it now? Probably no one. Oh-fucking-well.

"Likest thou jelly within thy doughnut?"

2010-03-30T00:16:00.000-07:00

   "Nay, but prithee, with sprinkles 'pon it instead, and frosting of white."

    I feel like a freaking vampire. But instead of the blood of meat-sack mortals, I am slavering over doughnuts and soda. I just catch a whiff of something unhealthy and I go half-crazy then and there: instant predator. If I were in the natural habitat of the pastries I would be in panther crouch, downwind from the elusive jelly-filled, slowly prowling amongst the tall grasses, waiting for just the time to pounce. I would strike quickly, fatally. The kill must be clean. A jelly only wounded is a deadly foe. But I have to turn away from the Hunger, and it pains me.

     As you may have surmised, I'm on the diet again. And the first week is always the hardest. But the first two days with foods lacking in sugar and carbohydrates: miserable. Eating only meat and non-starch veggies makes me have super-smell when it comes to those forbidden foods. I walked into Safeway with Justin today and barely stopped myself from indulging in every available terrible food--I wanted so badly to wash a custard-filled doughnut down with a liter of cream-soda. Stupid teenage addiction to unhealthiness. Naturally, Justin bought about ten of those yummy fruit-topped danishes to wave in my face and tempt me with. Damnit, I just realized that I made him sign a contract that bound him to the duty of ensuring that I do not fall to food and soda temptation! But it only mentioned fast food, so I guess that doesn't count. Slippery, tricksy Justinses.

     Mom promises that after two or three days cravings for sugar and such will wane. I know she's right, since I've gone on diets before and eventually the idea of those foods disgust me, but until that day they drive me crazy with food-lust.

     Gotta take one for the gay community though, and get in a little bit better shape. It'll be good for me, I'm sure. I applied for a job today, by the way, because a guy at the place quit, but I've tried to be optimistic about possible jobs I'd get and that never works, so I'll just be my normal pessimistic self and expect that they'll never call me. Ah, well.

     Justin and I have been talking a lot about the Dresden RPG. I had an idea for a character, but it looks like Justin is moving toward sort of a similar idea. Well, not really. I wanted to make a former Knight of the Cross, who lost his faith because he wasn't smart enough (or fast enough, or tough enough or whatever) to save a loved one, or maybe who had to let a Denarian off on the whole "I might fight Redemption--not really, but you have to let me go just in case" principle only to have that same Denarian kill one of his family members. It was originally going to be a daughter or wife or something, but I just realized I've never played a gay character in any RPG, so fuck it. This character is gay. The Denarian killed his partner. So he loses his faith in whatever Higher Being he believes in, and ditches Esperacchius. (The Angel Michael then picked it up and passed it along to Sanya.)

   Anyway, the former Knight of the Sword might play as just that for a few sessions, with little to no supernatural power, but then I want Sanya to drop in on the character beseeching him to take up one of the Swords, because Sanya is too hard-pressed being the only active Knight. So the character would, hesitantly, agree to carry the Sword for a little while. (I don't know if I want him to use Amoracchius or Fidelacchius. Since he lost his faith, it might be more fitting for him to use the Sword of Faith, for Irony's sake. Or maybe he'll turn that one down because of that reason, and will only agree to take up the Sword of Love in honor of his lost love. I dunno. If Justin chooses one I'll take the other, obviously.)

   Justin wants a Knight with an anger problem, so saying that we both have the same idea for a character is complete bull-shit, of course. I just mean we were both considering the same template. Justin's been bouncing back and forth between playing a Warden, a Pure "Vanilla" Mortal, or the Knight. He wanted a character that was actually good (because he always plays evil, or at least Chaotic Neutral, characters and wants something new) so he asked me what that would be. I had to explain that Wardens don't fight for Justice, necessarily--they just fight for A) The White Council of Wizards and B) Preserving and upholding the Seven Laws of Magic. That almost made him choose a Knight right there, but I told him that just because it's not your explicit duty to fight for justice as a Warden, you're definitely entitled to. Harry and Carlos Ramirez are both pro-justice whilst being Wardens.

     Justin also wanted to make sure he could use a gun, and that made him lean toward Pure Mortal. Once again, I assured him that there are plenty of examples of supernatural character types using conventional weaponry. (For example; Sanya uses a Kalishnikov, Harry uses a revolver and shot-gun, and Carlos typically has a belt of fragmentation grenades at hand.) I think the only thing he's hung-up about when it comes to playing a Warden is his desire to kill with magic, the big First Law no-no. We've had a few long discussions about what is and is not killing with magic, but until we actually have a group together to make House-Rules regarding the specifics, we won't have a specific answer.

     I have school tomorrow, so I have to cut the blathering about stuff you people don't care about.

I don't have time for big blogs today.

2010-03-24T21:54:00.000-07:00

Not a lot to report, at this moment. Well, nothing I want to go into depth about. The reason is that I need lots of sleep tonight, because I have ANOTHER long road trip ahead of me tomorrow. 4 and a half hour drive to some Island in Washington. Might take a ferry to it. Or drive extra long to take the bridge fo' free. I'm getting paid $35 to play chauffeur--which is something I do a lot, actually. Apparently I got another dog/house watching job coming at me this summer for some folks going on vacation. I can stay in their house for those two weeks, too. I'm also allowed to bring someone to keep me company. You see? Being trustworthy and good actually has some benefits to it. People don't always screw you over because of your virtue.

The other reason I don't want to go way in depth about anything is because Mount Laundry is currently occupying my sleeping space, and I need to fold it before hitting the sack.

To mark significance for this day, Justin's dog, Roxie, was struck and killed by a truck today. That fucking sucks. I'll be honest--I don't get very attached to animals. There are animals that are cool and make me happy to be around, but when push comes to shove, they're not people to me, and emotionally they're only a few notches above a prized possession. (Which is still saying something I guess. I mean, I value my blogs a lot obviously, despite their low quality, and one of the main reasons I hate Kimberly and don't talk to her or do nice things for her is because she destroyed some of them, and it pissed me off.)

Anyway, the reason it fucking sucks is that while animals may not mean a whole lot to me, people do. I'm 98% sure that Justin is real torn up about losing Roxie. It was his first dog (that was entirely his responsibility; he paid for her food, shots, vet visits, etc. She stayed in his room only, and was solely his.) and he cared a lot about her. Justin and I are close, and while Roxie's death doesn't really hurt me directly, the fact that it hurts Justin does affect me, and it makes me both angry and incredibly frustrated that it happened. I get to thinking about those dumb little what-ifs. Like, for instance, what if that trip to Seattle that was planned today wasn't called off? Justin wouldn't have been there to ask Zoee to let Roxie out to go to the bathroom at that moment, and maybe she wouldn't have escaped, or at least wouldn't have been hit.

Dumb stuff like that. Anyway, I said I wasn't going to go in depth, but I started to anyway. My bad. I'll get back to that laundry.

Why do I have to worry?

2010-03-23T22:35:00.000-07:00

     Every waking hour I worry about my relationship. I know it's unhealthy, but I can't help it. So many what-ifs just come to mind. Circumstances seem to build themselves just so I will lose sleep and emotional stability over them.

     Today, for example. I asked my 'boyfriend' (I put it in semi-quotes because I'm not sure what Anthony considers me to be right now. I think I'm on the rocks... maybe even on pity tenure) what he was up to today, and he said he was hanging out with Brandon and his friends. Because Anthony has explained to me that he has no friends and only hangs out with Anna, plus he's expressed doubts about our relationship, my immediate fearful emotional response is "Brandon? The cute one who's number you got after studying together but never hung out afterward? That Brandon?" Again, my irrational side screams at me "See?! First he says he doesn't want to be with you and SUDDENLY he's hanging out with a bunch of guys he never even talks to?"

     And it tears me up. (Tears, as in wrenching apart, not tearing up my eyes. Well, it does that too, but it wasn't what I was getting at.) I try to walk the high road. I try to calm down and tell myself "Christian. Calm down. Trust the man. If he says he's with you, he's with you. If he wanted to be with someone else, he wouldn't keep you in his life." That's the big thing to do--trust in Anthony's word, and deny all suspicion I might hold. If I wish to be trusted as a wholly faithful boyfriend (and if any of you know me, you know that the value of loyalty and faithfulness is of the utmost import) then I must extend the same trust.

     But, like anyone else, I bear a few emotional scars. I was in love with someone before, and they betrayed basically all my trusts. That person cheated. That person drank, smoked, partied--all the while swearing to me that they not only denied such activities, but actively opposed them like I do. He told me he loved me. That hurt me. A lot. I didn't get over him for six months, and I haven't gotten over the betrayal in the general sense entirely yet. By that, I mean I don't have any affection for Kenny anymore. None. In fact, I flipped him off on my way to coffee yesterday (You should've seen the look on his face. Ask Justin, Shelby or Daniel.) and it was quite satisfying. I don't think of him, unless I see him, and even then it's only passing.

     But the after-effects of his actions still plague me. Because of that terrible first experience with love, I have a problem with trust. I have a problem with self-confidence (although one can argue I didn't have much of it to begin with, being a scrawny, chubby, nerdy, anti-social, closet-case homo. Scrawny denotes a lack of muscular definition, in this case). Granted, there are other factors at work here, including the shame of being forced to pretend to be straight for my family members. Regardless of their source, my emotional issues constantly sweep any foundation of Rightness and Goodness out from under me. I believe, wholeheartedly and without a doubt, that I should not, even in passing, doubt Anthony. If he says he will be faithful, than I cannot think for a second that he ever wouldn't be.

     But then those old monsters rear their ugly head. "What if he's just like Fuck-Face?" my insecurities whisper. "What if you're just a passing entertainment? Sure, he talks about a long-term relationship, but how can you trust that?" My moral and just part of me immediately shoots back, "He's not some loathsome teenager. He's more mature. I can trust him." But of course, insecurities reach through even the smallest cracks of doubt in my resolve, exploit any weakness. "Don't you see similarities? Anthony doesn't like to kiss you. Hell, Anthony doesn't even like to touch you, or sit next to you. Who does that remind you of?"

     And then the dam of resolve breaks, and I'm flooded with despair. Every little thing comes to mind, for hours. I list reason after reason for why I'm not good enough for Anthony or anyone, reasons he might stay with me (pity, lack of a better prospect, dislike for confrontation), and any time I try to bat down these insecurities something comes up (like Anthony hanging out with Brandon and co. and ignoring my messages after telling me about them) that once again cuts me down to size. Not only do these things reinvigorate my despair, they seem to lend credence to all the old doubts from earlier that day, making them seem that much more plausible; more heavy and sharp.

     Right this moment I'm remembering the events of yesterday. Anthony told me that he'd be having doubts about us, desire to end things, etc. and that he'd been hiding them from me. Again: Rational, selfless, good response--"He didn't want to hurt me. He was trying to protect me. It's a good thing." Insecure, depressive, doubtful response-- "What else isn't he telling you?" Of course, after I got him talking, he heavily suggested that the only solution is to end things. I responded with what I thought was a rational, normal, and well adjusted outlook of what relationships are supposed to be and why we should remain together and work things out. He didn't seem keen on it. The song in my mind at the time? Your Kind of Lover, by good ol' Freddie.

"Now you say you're leaving me. I just can't believe it's true. You're my kind of lover. Want a little bit of feeling; add a little bit of meaning to my life. I want a little bit of feeling--a little bit of sunshine to my life. Just step right into my heart, come a little closer-- Don't tell me that it's over, make a brand new start. We can work it out, just next to nothing. We're feeling we can work it out. Let me show all I can do, I can be your kind of lover."

     Anyway, needless to say I became an emotional mess, and almost left thinking I'd never see him again, would have to alter my school schedule so I wouldn't bump into him, reconsider moving, etc. He told me before I left that he'd go with my plan of slowing down, seeing each other a little less-- work it out. I felt a little better, but like every night for the past two months I went to sleep thinking about Anthony.

     I'm getting off track. Strong emotion is routing my organized thought. I suppose that's an example of the whole thing I'm trying to talk about, so I'll leave that chunk of stream of thought. Back on track, I'm trying to find out what's wrong with me, if all this really is my fault. I feel that perhaps I have two opposing forces working on my emotions. One is the desire to be valued or loved or whatever you want to call it. I'll label that my "distant 'Don't be gay' mother" issue. The other one is my cynical "people are lying and trying to hurt you" issue. These opposing forces, by the way, are pulling in opposite directions, not pushing against one another, hence the tearing metaphor earlier. This leads me to wonder, am I getting hurt because I give more of myself and care more for the person I'm with than they do about me? Or am I getting hurt because I'm weak in the confidence department and think that I'm being deceived or manipulated? What am I doing wrong, is basically my big question.

     I know the obvious and rational answer. "You're nineteen. Quit giving so much of a shit about relationships, and shut the fuck up. You don't think a guy wants to be with you? Leave him. Plenty more where that came from. Damn." But I'm already so invested. There's no way in the Nine Hells I will ever, (EVER. Capital, man) find another gay guy my age who is as interesting, intelligent, mature, straight edge, fun, and patient. Especially in the intimacy area. He's never been with anyone, and doesn't intend to be for a long time. Do you know any twenty year old homosexual virgins who want to be with someone for a year (+) before intimacy even becomes plausible? Neither do I. That kind of dedication to the high road is immensely rare in people my age, as well as my sexual orientation. Sorry for stereotyping, but thems the ropes. Young gay guys are extremely sexual.

     My point is that he's by and far the best that I'm ever likely to meet, much less actually have the honor of dating. And I've somehow managed to mess it up within what... A week short of two months? Major blow to my confidence. This sort of opportunity makes it big to me. That means it's worth worrying night and day about. Is that unhealthy, thinking about something and someone like that? I mean, sure, when I say all day I don't mean literally CONSTANTLY. I mean, I'll read a book or play a game for a few hours. But any moment I give up mental distraction, say if I drive to the store, or make lunch and eat it, or go to the gym, or am laying in bed for hours trying to sleep, I think about him and myself. Obviously I've been writing this blog for what... an hour? Basically this is the kind of stuff that runs through my mind any time I'm alone during the day, when I don't have to keep up happy appearances.

     I guess I'm trying to find a way to contend with my base nature--my insecurity, doubts, fears, emotional needs. How do I rise above that and just trust? How can I force my soul to be confident that things will work out as they should, and that people do care about me, and honestly want the best for me? How do I remove these old emotional scars so that I don't turn to despair every time I lose sight of rationality? How do I be a better person? A good person doesn't question the honesty and openness of those he cares about, right? How do I un-fuck up my soul? Is there some sacred mantra to turn to, like Alcoholics Anonymous?

    I don't know how to better myself so that the people I care about will care about me in return. I don't know how to keep a boyfriend. I don't know how to confront my mother about this bullshit with hiding who I am, and put that emotional problem behind me. I don't know how to illicit openness from the person I would never hide a thing from. I don't know how to rise up, and stop being a worthless, loathsome being. I don't want to play the lonely man, anymore.

     I'm some kind of fucked up, aren't I? My expectations are probably unrealistic. I don't think I'll ever be able to find someone who will be as open as I am, as willing to give emotionally. At least not at this age. People don't want that. People want a nice pretty boyfriend to show, one who isn't misanthropic and pessimistic, and who wants to actually talk about feelings, emotions, and those other silly, trifling bothers. Maybe it's the Dresden problem. I don't do casual. I don't do temporary. If someone is going to be with me, I want to give wholly of myself, put everything I have into it. I want an invested relationship. People don't want that, so people don't want me.

That's my theory anyway. If any of you amateur psychologist/psychiatrists wanna put in your two cents, go for it. Gimme your insight. Bitte. Danke.

Okay, a bit better.

2010-03-22T02:21:00.001-07:00

About to go to sleep; But I talked with Kyle for a while, and the nice, rational suggestions he gave me really cooled me down. I'm upset because Anthony is upset and won't tell me why. I've been worrying about it, because Anthony will drop many-a-hint that something is wrong with me, and the best thing to do is just confront him about it. And not in the stupid little "What's wrong?" "Nothing." sort of confrontation. A nice actual sit-down conversation. Hell, we're both adults after all. Well... legally at least.

I feel sick...

2010-03-21T22:23:00.001-07:00

Emotional reasons. Sad pants...

Speed blogging!

2010-03-19T23:02:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to blog as quick as I can because I don't have a charger. I left it at home, because I'm an idiot, so if I actually get a good blog going and can't finish it on this computer, I'll hop over to one of those "Mac" things this household is so uppity about. Today I had my history final, and I think I basically kicked the crap out of it. I got my paper back though, and I only got an 88% but that's about what I expected, given my set-backs.

After that, I went to Anthony's, and we went into Portland for a book signing at Powell's. First, we went through hell finding parking. After that, we went through hell looking for the damned book, but I ended up finding it for him. Then I took Anthony up to the Pearl Room where the book-signing was to be held, where he summarily found his gay "friend" (I put that in quotes, because I don't think Anthony likes him very much) and then socially ditched me. I say socially ditched instead of a physical kind, because he sat on the ground with his "friend", was introduced to that "friend"'s companion, and neglected to introduce me, leaving me standing awkwardly left out of conversation for a good 20 minutes before I got pissed enough to walk away and sit near the kid books until the signing was over.

After we were done at Powell's we (Anna, Anthony and I. She has school nearby and met up with Anthony) walked back to near where we parked and wandered around that area just for fun, and after that I drove us all back to Anthony's. We started watching Halo Legends after some food we got on the way home, but went on a walk partway through. When we got back Anthony and Anna did some favor for Anthony's sister involving a hard drive, but I was pretty excluded from that so I messed around on my computer for awhile.

We finished the show later on, and now here I am blogging. Anthony is still physically distant (anti-touching, holding hands, kissing, etc.) so I figure I still haven't managed to amend for whatever I did wrong. But he's talking to me, and that's good enough for me, I guess.

Again, my apologies for a lack of depth in this blog, but my battery is dying quick, and I have other things to do (like play video games or read. I know, not necessarily better than blogging, but just as time consuming).

Happy Friday, folks.

I should be studying

2010-03-18T19:26:00.000-07:00

But instead, I'm worrying. I don't have a lot of people that are close to me, so when I fuck up and potentially alienate them, it's a big deal to me. Might've just done that to Anthony yesterday. I think he could be ignoring me at the moment, but I'm not going to definitively make that claim, because he might just be busy or something. It would be douchey of me to automatically assume the worst of people, so I won't. But I'm still worried...

In an attempt to make this post less emotional and less about my weaknesses, I'll focus on the mundane. Last night (as you may have surmised from my last post, I wasn't doin' so hot) I hung out with Justin. He bought me something nice and caffeinated to calm me down (caffeine is my drug of choice--I don't know why I like it) and we played video games until five o'clock in the morning. He played WoW on my computer and I started Mass Effect 2 on his X-Box. I only played the beginning of the first Mass Effect at Erik and Will's, so I had him bring me up to speed on the story, but since it's an RPG (it should technically be "a RPG" but that doesn't sound pretty) it had a codex with lots of backstory and setting info. It was pretty fun.

I went to the dentist today, and while my teeth themselves haven't gotten any worse, some of my old dental work has. I have some old metal fillings from about nine years ago that need some maintenance, so apparently I have to have them removed and then have a crown put on. Which royally sucks. It's painful, it's expensive, and it's time consuming. I hate dentists. All of them. Yes, I'm being irrational about it, and I know that dentists are people too, and that they do good--but I still hate them. And because of my cleaning my teeth have been hurting all day. Damn dental hygienists.

I have that history final tomorrow. Haven't studied at all today, but as soon as I finish this blog (as well as paranoid-edly check Facebook to see if Anthony has answered me yet) I'll start working on it. I'll probably write three half-page essays and answer all the short answer questions, and read over them once or twice. That worked out for me for the mid-term, and I expect it will carry me through the final. I think we might get our papers back tomorrow, too. I think mine sucked. I turned in a good rough draft, but I lost my folder with all my old work in it, including the rough draft, so I had to revise without the use of teacher's comments--which almost guarantees that the quality of the paper took a nose-dive.

Which reminds me, I think I have some overdue library books. I hope they don't charge me too much. I spent so much time with Anthony that I didn't have the chance to return home and get the books packed into my car. Yep, they're overdue. I just checked. Balls. Oh, well. No use crying over spilled coffee.

I also spent a lot of time reading the Q&A one of the Dresden Files RPG playtesters, Rick Neal had on his blog over a couple weeks. A lot of nice distracting interesting things to make me a little less miserable for today. I haven't had the opportunity to continue reading about the FATE system and SotC (Spirit of the Century, the most recent FATE powered game) but reading through Rick's blog has given me a lot of information about both, and how the DFRPG is similar and different.

I guess that's all I have to say. Wish me luck, for more things than one. (Save your more powerful wishes for mending ties with Anthony, if you would--I can handle the History Final myself.)

I'm miserable.

2010-03-17T21:47:00.001-07:00

I don't want to talk about it. I blogged for the day.

I was going to!

2010-03-16T09:29:00.000-07:00

I was going to blog yesterday, honest--but just as I was about to do it, the clock ticked over to midnight, and there was no point in doing it then when I'd be able to do it now.

Good morning, scruff-lovers. It's 9:11 A.M. and I look crazy. Imagine this scene, if you will. You're on a college campus, on your way to what could be your finals or last day of class. You're stressed, but you know you'll pull through. Up ahead, you see someone. This character is of average height and weight, wearing dark jeans, old shoes, and a hoodie. The hood is up, but when the wind takes it down, this bleary-eyed being has tussed-up morning hair, is clearly unshaven, and is kind of stumbling every now and again. What makes him more interesting than the rest of the tired students is that he has no backpack or education materials of any kind. Oh, and he has a hammer.

That guy is me. I'm the crazy with the hammer. I don't have school today, but I tagged along with my boyfriend Anthony to help him hammer some tacks to put up his photography project. He had poetry class first, so he tasked me with "guarding the hammer." So I walked all over campus trying to hold a hammer (apparently my only possession) in the least threatening manner as I could. It's still with me. It's all beaten up and rusty, and has red paint splattered on the handle. It really doesn't reflect well on my already messy-day-old-clothing-crazy-hair-stumbling image.

I saw a sign that said "FREE COFFEE" as I entered the library, but I'll be damned if I've found it. The signs don't say any particular location, only a time (9 A.M to 9 P.M., I.E. now). Stupid signs, getting my hopes up and sending me walking in circles with my hammer. Makes me look like I'm scoping out targets to splatter some brains on the walls. Maybe I should slam Anthony's head for waking me up so early and sending me wandering. For all I know people might actually perceive me as a threat--next thing you know I could be tackled by a throng of self-styled "heroes" and arrested. That jerk.

But I kid. I asked to be woken up this early and dragged across town, believe it or not. As you may have surmised from blog before last, I'm one of those photographed in Anthony's project. Thus, by helping put up the picture of me, I help to spread my own image and vanity. It'll help me to establish a nice little cult and *ease* into world domination, gentle and slow. The world's population may resent me as their ruler, but I'll be remembered as a damn fine political lover. (Was I stretching that analogy?)

I have this week off from class, 'til Friday cometh. That day I have a history final, but aside from that I'm all done with German and Poetry. I know I've said that already, but it makes me feel a hell of a lot better repeating it. Makes being at school a lot easier, what with no responsibilities and all. I almost feel like a kid again! (That's a joke. I know I'm still a kid. Shut up.)

So, here's my plan. When it comes out this summer, I'm going to do everything in my power to get my hands on the Harry Dresden RPG. Obviously if I do so, Dusty will be on board to play it (at some point) so all I have to do is get a few other people interested enough to become involved. I'm working on Justin right now. He still seems hesitant (he gave the Amber role-playing game a chance, and honestly it was going well--it's just that all our other damned group members weren't reliable, and we couldn't drag them together to play) but I think I'm starting to bring him around. I think I'll make a few little sheets describing the character types. We'll get him. If I convince him I'll probably get Shelby roped in by way of proxy. So that's three. I guess I can worry about the others, later.

I'm going to go read Dusty's new blog posts and then drool over the Dresden Files RPG website some more.

DRESDEN RPG!

2010-03-12T08:46:00.000-08:00

Hey face lovers, it's 8:35 A.M. Friday morning, and day number two of my "write a blog" every day for the rest of March creed. Currently sitting in my history class waiting for it to start, but you don't care about that, do you? No; you care about the news I have. This summer, June 23, 2010 to be exact, the Harry Dresden RPG will be released. I didn't even know they were working on one, but stars and stones I know I want it. There are going to be two volumes, both hard cover with full cover interior. To get both, I'll be set back $90. But it's worth it. I can hardly wait.

The main character types in the game are White Court virgin, plain vanilla Mortal, Knight of a Faerie Court, Minor Talent, Red Court infected, Sorcerer, True Believer, Were-Form (Werewolf, Were-crocodile, etc.), White Court Vampire, Wizard (of course), Focused Practitioner, Emissary of Power, Changeling, and Champions of God (Knights of the Cross style). These are all the ones I've read about, at least. There could be more, I guess.

Apparently the game isn't a d20 RPG, but instead uses the Fate system, which is based on the Fudge system. So, I'm familiarizing myself with the Fate system ahead of time so that when the actual Dresdenverse game comes out, I'll be able to get to the playing of it faster.

I'll write more about how some of it works after class today.

Jones'n.

2010-03-11T00:24:00.000-08:00

     Hey beard lovers, it's 11:35 P.M. and I feel like sleepin'. I also feel like giving the nature the finger and staying awake using electronics and caffeine (tea this time. Yeah, I'm sticking to my "one cup of coffee a day" rule. Barbaric, I know, but if your boyfriend complains about coffee breath and stained teeth, what choice do you have?). Although I already said it on the book o' the face, I did excellently on my German final. My partner Erik, less so. I must admit, though: despite having to drag him through the scenario, his stammering both gave me time to give deep consideration to my next words, and made me look better. I think I only made one grammatical mistake the entire time (I said "Du kannst haben ein Haustiere" instead of "Du kannst ein Haustiere haben").

     What else did I do today? I furthered my career in modeling. Anthony is doing this photography project where he has black and white photos with only one object in color. He'll have seven pictures in total, one for each color of the rainbow. I posed for "indigo." Honestly, I think that any and all of them will be incredibly homo-erotic. The first object was a bottle of Jones soda (with clear cream soda. Anthony is going to try to edit it indigo). I was squatting in front of a fireplace with my head turned sideways, fiercely gripping and drinking--it felt suggestive, trust me. Next object: raspberry Popsicle. Once again, the licking and... enjoying of the Popsicle insinuated more than the widespread love of frozen treats (it felt like it. I haven't seen the pictures. Maybe they look wholesome and innocent). We finished up with the Jones bottle again, but this time filled with grape kool-aid.

     So, on the subject of change--I have a few more to try out. I'm kind of sick of stumbling when I speak, so I'm going to institute an interesting little change to persuade me to think more carefully before I speak. I'm going to do as the faeries (haha, get it out of your system now) do, and speak only the truth for a month. Mind you, if I need to deceive I'm going to try to do it without lying (like the Sidhe). It should be fun. The other new activity will be to blog just a bit more. Every weekday for the rest of this month. Even if it's just one sentence describing what I had for lunch. What's important is getting back into the habit. It's a good one.

     I don't have anything else to say, but the urge to blog hasn't left me, and I'm sick of staring at the blinky line cursor thing, so we're going stream of thought. What the hell is that called anyway? That thing ------> | That vertical line that blinks wherever your text is going to go. I'm sure I'll figure it out someday. I'm not going to put in so much effort as to actually look it up and sate my curiosity--I'm just going to rely on Fate to bring the answer to my attention some time in the next month or so. I just realized that I've almost entirely forgotten what my New Year's Resolutions were. I think I'm going to print 'em up and tape them to the wall of my closet, where I spend most of my time (it's where my computer desk is. I thought I told you to get all of your homosexual-joke laughter out of your system) that way I can see it as more of a check-list, and less of a back-of-my-mind list.

     Once again on the subject of change--I like it. It's jangly and shiny, and indulges my nerdish desire to live in a fantasy world where coinage is the main form of currency. Also makes me feel richer than I am. Have you ever had a pouch full of $20 worth of dollar coins, fifty-cent pieces, and quarters? It's a lot more substantial than a single bill. So not only does it indulge my nerdiness, it also gives me a nice sense of pomp. Two birds with one excessively large stone. I'm thinking boulder crushing two hapless ducks.

     I haven't touched my giant gummy bear in a long time. He's sitting in a plastic bag, sealed within a cardboard shipping box on the shelves at the foot of my bed. He's probably pissed. Not only is he missing both ears (meaning he can't ear the music I play, or the terrible singing I omit) but he's also in a dark, tight space. And he's been there for months. If I'm ever mysteriously killed with my ears bitten off and then stuffed into the long cupboards beneath my bed, then it was the bear. Still, I don't think I'll ever get around to eating it. Last time I touched it, it was kind of getting hard. Gross.

     Stream of thought is beginning to ebb, so I must be out of juice. This was fun. We should do it again some time. Maybe I'll spice it up a little, turn on some smooth jazz, lower the lights--we'll have a romantic little evening together, hmm? Sound nice? Your eyes can dance across the page, and lose themselves in the gleaming sweetness of my text. Ah, that'll be a night to remember.

A little change.

2010-03-05T23:17:00.000-08:00

That's right, I changed my template. I know I made a big deal about wanting scribe when I first started blogging, but I feel the desire for a change. Not an actual change; that would be too difficult to handle. No, much easier on my psyche to just change the appearance of some things, without actually making any substantial alterations.

At least, not on the blogging front.

Instead, my little changes of actual substance will be on the front of slightly better drinking practices. Hold that thought before it occurs to you: I don't consume alcohol. When I say I'm going to change my drinking practices, it means I'm going to change my practices regarding what I drink most: coffee and soda. I intend to drink less and less of each of those things. First, I'm only going to limit myself to one cup of coffee a day. May not sound like much to you, but to someone who drinks about 2-5 cups on any given day (depending on the amount of sleep I've gotten), that's some major cut-back. As for soda... Ergh, I have troubles thinking about how best to manage it. Should I give it up entirely? Maybe allow myself one instance of soda-drinking a week or two weeks or something?

I'll google it. She'll know what to do.

Oh good, google seconded my tactic of cutting to only one cup of coffee a day and drinking more tea. The google told me I should just give up soda cold turkey though. Should I obey?

Why not? I certainly don't know how to kick something I'm addicted to. If it says wean off coffee and kick soda, who am I to argue? (Yes I realize I'm entitled to argue, since I have free will and the internet is not a god. But it's damn close. Long story short, I'll trust the collective knowledge of the internet over my own theories about how to be rid of soda. So I give up a little bit of free will and my soul to the internet. Plenty more where that came from.)

On top of that little change, I think I finally convinced my mother to get my a gym membership. (Homer: Gime? What's a gime?) Since I'm fairly nocturnal when left to my own devices, I'm always in the mood to walk when it's dark. Since I'm a 'fraidy cat and don't have a cloak anymore, night time walking has been out of the question. So hopefully, that will improve my health a little bit as well.

Eat brains!

2010-02-25T15:50:00.000-08:00

Figured I'd get one more entry in before February ends. I know I don't have much of a blogger's reputation, but I need to have at least three entries for the month to save some face. That phrase is a little strange, don't you think? Who would be losing parts of their face to reveal a less reputable being beneath? I'll tell you who.
Ghouls.
I'm reading the next Dresden Files book, and one of the antagonists is a man with Chinese features called Li Xian. Naturally, they refer to him only as Xian. He's a ghoul, a monster that feeds on the flesh of people, and so whenever he gets particularly emotional his monstrous face sort of stretches beneath his human facade. Also, he had half of his false face ruined when Harry (Dresden) blasted him through a plywood door, across the street, and into a brick wall with a gale of magical wind. Unfortunately, every time the ghoul Xian is mentioned I don't imagine a chinese guy with a pony-tail and glasses. Instead I imagine a white guy with curly brown hair, thick eyebrows and glasses, who is thrown through plywood walls and throws ninja stars at White Council wizards. Honestly, it makes me feel far more sympathy for the creature than I rightly should feel, since he intends to eat the protagonist and plays bitch to some psychotic necromancer-woman.
Well, this little blog was just meant to distract me just that much longer from homework that I don't want to do, but I need to be prepared for that quiz tomorrow and Frost's poems aren't going to write about themselves.

A glimpse of my future, perhaps?

2010-02-19T23:36:00.000-08:00

I've been carrying out a little experiment. Well, not really, but what I'm doing reveals interesting things AS IF I were conducting an experiment. I've been watching Anthony's dog and house while he and his family are in Illinois. It's been a few days, and it's also been the first time in my adult life (and I suppose the later years of my childhood, since I've only been an "adult" [and I use that term in the broadest of senses] for a little over a year) that I've had a house to myself for days, with complete autonomy (I'm in Beaverton, so no one is dropping in on me for a visit).

So, the first thing I did when I woke up Thursday morning, after feeding the dog, was buying some food to last me the weekend. Yay me for some responsibility. After I got back and played ball with Tank (my house-mate and ward) I did my homework. So far so good.

And then the plunge. Many hours of Super Mario: Galaxy for the Wii. And when I got sick of dying on certain parts and needed a break, hours of Will and Grace on DVD (my dear friend has all the seasons). But, when I wasn't doing either of those things I was pacing, listening to music, and best of all: holding one-sided conversations with the dog.

I tried explaining various abstract ideas to him like honor, integrity, as well as love and such. Honestly, talking to Tank was pretty entertaining. I think that basically what I did is what other people do, but instead of talking to a dog, they talk at a camera and put their videos on Youtube. Isn't that basically was a lot of philosophical videos made by people are? Trying to explain, simply, your ideas to a large audience that you can only assume is as dumb as a big dog named Tank?

I talk to myself at my own house sometimes, but I don't have a dog or camera to talk at there. Maybe I should get one of those.

Anyway, I just thought that this may be a sneak peak at how I'm going to live my life when I have my own place in the future. And now I've shared it with you, compliments of the chef. Bon appetit!

Valentine's Day.

2010-02-10T20:22:00.000-08:00

Chocolates, flower, love poem, and first kiss. Those are good gifts for Valentine's Day, right? I think so, especially when I have to spend a few weeks worth of lunch money to pay for the first two. Not only that, I haven't willingly written a poem entirely of my own creation since since I was 13. And that was for school. I think that raises its romantic worth a few points, since I'm specifically venturing from my comfortable writing zone. I think it makes it better...
Being the little girl that I am, I had Valentine's Day on my mind, so I figured I'd share my little plan while I wait for the shuttle to arrive. I think my valentine (I refuse to name him, in case of spies... Looking at you Steve and Grandma) is getting me some of those little Lindor Lindt Truffles that I like, and that book about Arthas I wanted around Christmas but didn't have any money for.
Fatty foods and fantasy novels; the easiest way into my heart.

It's Quiet -- Too Quiet.

2010-01-28T19:20:00.000-08:00

There is a problem, ladies and gentlemen, and that problem is with me.
Bad things are happening. Bad, bad things.

No, wait. There aren't.

And that's the problem.

You see, things have been going just fine for me, recently, without any sort of suffering attached. And that doesn't sit well with me. You want to know why? I certainly hope you do, because I'm going to tell you. Or, more accurately, I'm going to write the answer to "why?" right here, and maybe two people will read it. Maybe. Because things have been going well and my life is dandy, I've become mentally emaciated. When I don't have trouble, when I don't have pain, I find that I have no reason to think. Instead of asking useful questions of myself, about why I think a certain way or act in a peculiar fashion, I just get up in the morning, play video games, do a little homework, and perhaps read for pleasure.

And I do this instead of thinking. My mind is occupied with inane bull-shit, thoughts about what I'm going to eat that day, or how much time I have to play this video game, or if the washing machine is available for use. And that, I only just realized, is driving me fucking crazy. It's like society has successfully assimilated me into the mainstream dumb-fuck club, and stole from me my ability to write and ponder. And to brood. God, I miss brooding. There is little better than sitting at my closet-desk, fist under my chin with my hood drawn up and visage pulled into a hateful frown as I mentally chew up some emotional issue.

So, the question I have for myself and the Universe is, "How do I maintain my ability to think and write while simultaneously remaining happy?"

Turns out it's a tough fucking question. And one that I don't have an answer to, namely because I'm not quite miserable enough to think straight.

Options.

2010-01-19T04:12:00.000-08:00

All right, I can't refrain any longer. I have been with my current boyfriend, Brad, for exactly five months. When I began dating him my spirits were elevated. I had someone I could call my own, someone I could trust, someone who was good: Brad didn't (doesn't) smoke, drink, do drugs, and was loyal. Being with him finally brought me out of a (too-long) depressive and brooding stint, and I was happier. For that, I am grateful to him. He has served a noble purpose.

But he's not what I need any longer. True, he meets my moral standards, and he's never done anything wrong. But I don't think I can be with him anymore. I need mental and emotional stimulation. He is, for lack of a better word, vapid. There is no emotion emanating from him. I cannot make him laugh. I could not, if I tried, rouse anger in him. He cannot, on his life, make interesting conversation. He cannot discuss, debate, or cogitate. His dis-interesting ways go beyond the conversational aspects as well: activities one would expect to partake in whilst in a relationship are absent as well. I don't mean that in the sexual fashion, but the literal one. We don't go on walks, we don't see movies, or play video games together, or visit book stores, or go out for coffee, or any other such activity you'd expect from someone you're dating. We lay in bed all day. That's it.

So, even though he hasn't done anything necessarily wrong, I still don't find the relationship to be satisfying. I've been mulling this over, you see, weighing the philosophical pros and cons of breaking up with him. Am I justified in my dissent? If one member of a relationship does not find it fulfilling, are they entitled to desert it? Or am I the bad guy? I wondered if I was an amoral villain to heartlessly abscond from the relationship. I was, I admit, wracked with guilt upon considering the prospect. I tried once to leave him, near Halloween, but I couldn't stand the contrition, thinking that I had perhaps wrought pain equal to that which was done unto me nearly a year before. After a mere week of miserable feelings I returned to him.

But now I've had a taste of what could be, a sample of the possibility of an engaging and fulfilling relationship. I've made a few friends recently, one in a class of mine and the other through a shared interest in poetry, and the conversations I was able to have with them astounded me. I idled away a whole afternoon and a good chunk of the evening discussing poetry with Anthony. With Nick I've argued about such things as pessimism versus optimism, philanthropy versus misanthropy, socialization against solitude, for hours and hours. And I compared these sorts of interactions with those I share with Brad. I could call him and try to initiate conversation, but it would invariably end within 5-10 minutes, the height of the dialogue being our sharing of what we had for dinner.

Having experienced deep conversation, soul-enriching and emotion-evoking interactions, I can no longer tolerate a stale and pointless relationship. After thinking about it, I've come to the conclusion that I am entitled to pursue a partner who is capable of keeping up with my intellectual pursuits and can appeal to the desires of my soul, appease my need to share thoughts and discuss ideals and philosophical beliefs.

The only problem is overcoming my instinct to adhere to my sense of duty. I feel obligated to stay with someone until they actually do something that is unacceptable; until they wrong me. How do you break up with someone, and explain to them that it is, in the most basic sense, simply because they're boring and emotionally distant?

Even now, somewhat confident in my conviction that I deserve more, doubt is still encroaching upon my thoughts. If anyone is still actually reading my blog, I beg that they take a moment to leave their comment on what they believe would be the right thing to do in a situation like this. I need some sort of outside influence to agree one way or another, to give it weight and substance.

Egyptians were elves.

2010-01-10T18:13:00.000-08:00

Not really of course, but they remind me of the elves from the Forgotten Realms. According to my history book, the Egyptians in the age of the New Kingdom (around 1550-1150 B.C.E.) divided the world into two types of of human inhabitants. They referred to themselves as "The People" (the elves of Forgotten Realms also refer to themselves as The People, or "Tel-Quessir" in their own language), and then there was everyone else. They believed that the forces of chaos resided in foreign lands where the pharaoh had not yet imposed his will, and it was thusly the pharaoh's responsibility to crush all foreign peoples and bring order to the world.

That and having advanced culture far before Europeans, whose simple ways at the time liken them in my mind to the Forgotten Realms' humans.

History is fun when you can compare it to fake history! (It's fun anyway, but this is an added bonus.)

Post-Script

Also incredibly interesting (albeit scary): Neo-Assyrian rulers. "They called themselves "Kings of the Universe" and developed a highly militarized empire. To terrify their victims and aid their conquests, they cultivated a reputation for extreme cruelty. Assyrian armies tortured, butchered, and enslaved the inhabitants of defeated cities. Then, after carting off everything of value, they burned the cities to the ground. News of their atrocities spread to neighboring areas, which quickly and understandably surrendered."

Silly Tsurani.

2010-01-08T01:29:00.001-08:00

Why do people (and/or fictional primitive societies or races, like orcs and such) insist that glory is eternal? Do we really remember the names of warriors or soldiers who fell in glorious battle? No. We might write their names on a big-ass wall, sure, but it seems to me glory is pretty temporary, for the most part. Very few can manage to hold on to their glory for a lengthy period. Point being, whenever I read books that claim glory is worth dying for I'm going to slap my forehead and imagine that it's the author's face.

Procrastination -- Not one of my resolutions. Go figure.

2010-01-04T10:19:00.000-08:00

Only moments after the turn of the new year, my father asked me what my resolutions were. He said his were "stay alive another year, and try not to do anything stupid," which is definitely a good one for him. I told him that I'd rather not choose until I had a chance to write them down. You know, blog it out old-school.

I flew home the following afternoon, and immediately began playing video games with Demitri. He hung out for the entire weekend, so now that I'm free (meaning stuck at school until my first class starts at noon) I guess my procrastinating cannot carry on any longer.

I think, before I make any new resolutions, I should look back to the ones I made a year ago, and see where I stand in relation to them now. It appears that my only goal set for 2009 in relation to New Year's-Style resolutions was "Be a little more optimistic." Well, I would say mission accomplished. Am I an optimist? Hell no. But I'm not really a negative pessimist anymore, so much as I'm a practical one. Do I expect things to be shitty? Of course. Take a look at this upcoming term for example. I was going to take Shakespeare. It would have been fine and good. Can't go wrong with Shakespeare right? Well, apparently everyone doesn't seem to think so, and my class was canceled because there weren't enough people signed up. So now I get to take poetry. Woo! (Imagine that "Woo!" paired with a sarcastic widening of the eyes and twirling of my index finger. Not excited.) Am I surprised that I'm deprived of Shakespeare and left to rot in a poetic pit of pallid putrescence? Not in the least. Thanks to my pessimism, I was ready for such a blow to be landed, and was able to cushion it with my expectations. Still, I suppose I could use the class, since I'm dreadful at reading and interpreting poetry. See? There's the optimism.

I'm digressing. I think that my health is something worth making a bit more of an effort to preserve, so my first improvement for the year will be to cut back on the soda. Back to tea, for me. Next, I should probably find some kind of exercise, even if it's just walking. Lady knows I need it. Hmm... And what of writing? I don't know what sort of standard I should set for myself. All right, fine. I resolve to finish that crappy book I started in high school this year. It'll be unoriginal and boring, but what the hell. I have to start somewhere, right? Better to say, "Hey, I wrote a shitty book, wanna see?" than to say "Hey, I started a shitty book but never managed to finish it. Wanna see?"

Is that enough, I wonder? I have a nagging feeling that I really should try to invest some more promise-power into the writing department than that. More blogging? That would be nice, sure, but could I keep my word? Probably not. Best leave that one alone, and keep blogging when it's convenient. Maybe I should write a few more short stories? My last one wasn't so bad. Got me an A, at least. All right, fine. I'll try to write at least three short stories this year. A nice low bar, just something to keep me on my toes.

I think, also, that I should try to find myself once again. True, there are a few versions of me that I could go finding, but I really need to find my soul again. I want to examine my values and beliefs, and to that extent, I think I'll start a little blog series examining various virtues, and what I believe about them, to what extent, etc. If only I had my old philosophy club notebook. Oh, well, shouldn't be too hard to start again. Let's just throw some out there to get my thoughts going, eh? Honesty, Loyalty, Patience, Altruism, Dependability, Commitment, Compassion, Confidence, Honor, Humility, Foresight, Forgiveness, Mercy, Justice, and, oh, we'll toss Impartiality on the end there, for good measure.

I'm not promising I'll write about all of those, but I'd like to write about some. I'm curious to see whether or not I'll become the warm, idealistic version of myself that I've been, or return to a colder, more calculating and dispassionate version. I've been both, here and there, through what few years I've possessed anything resembling an identity, but I don't know which will win out, or which will be applied to certain circumstances. Hopefully writing (and thus, thinking) will help me find out.

Twentieth year will be no different.

2009-12-21T15:33:00.000-08:00

I have found that it is not very difficult to write down one's thoughts. I've heard complaints before (mostly in Mrs. Sipe's English classes, where students are meant to read a line or quote, and write down their thoughts) about difficulty with getting thoughts down on paper, or at least in words, and in many ways, I don't understand it. Are people that disconnected with their own minds that they cannot interpret their own ideas? I think they're just inaccurately describing their problems. Almost certainly, they cannot find a way to phrase their ideas to accurately represent their thoughts and feelings while simultaneously preserving their image as a non-idiot.

I think, then, that writing down one's thoughts isn't a hard thing to do. Thinking thoughts that people will actually want to read about, and enjoy reading: that's the difficult part. I'll do my best though.

I must say, I'm not thrilled with the prospect of aging. As I enter my twentieth year of life on this world, I can't help but be a bit unhappy. I had always hoped that I'd have accomplished something noteworthy if I managed to survive two decades. Something people would enjoy, or envy, or be in awe of. Something worth slapping my name on and saying "Look at this! Can you do this? Yeah, I thought not." But, like every other average hooligan of my age-group, what do I have? A barely started (and even then, poor) fantasy novel; several blogs that go untouched for weeks, gathering dust and losing what little interest they held in the first place; a body that is falling into ever greater disuse and un-shapeliness; a will-power that is faltering with more frequency than ever before; and, of course, a definitive lack of drive to do anything about any of this.

I can already see my road being lain ahead of me. Because I can't manage to obtain a job, I continue to do exactly as I've always done: live off of my parents and other relatives. As I age, however, I will be more and more of an unwelcome burden. What happens when the milk runs dry, and I have no money for education, a place to live, or food and clothing? What hope have I for a future that holds any promise, any sustained happiness? Say I'm wrong. Let us believe that I succeed in getting through college, at least, even though I'll get my hands on a pile of debt. Then what? Can I believe my English degree will get me a well-paying job? Hell, even a paying job?

It is the day of my birth, and I am forced to look back at myself one year ago. What changes have come about? What have I done to improve my lot in life? At nineteen, just as with eighteen, I still have nothing worth showing pride in. The book I began is exactly how I left it at the end of Senior Projects. My blog is filled with inane blather; useless accounts of day to day bull-shit. What am I doing at this very moment? I could be taking a walk, or performing some other exercise. I could be writing a short-story, perhaps, or actually fixing up that piece of trash I like to call the beginnings of a book. I think I'll scrap it, though. I can look at it with and objective eye, and I truly believe that nobody aside from those who know me would ever have any interest in reading it. It does nothing new, doesn't even do anything old in a new way. A waste of time really.

At this point, you're probably wondering "What's the point of all this complaining? I don't care much for your circumlocution, bleeding-heart 'my life sucks' youth." First, let me point out that my life doesn't suck... yet. It's knowing that I'm on the track TO the life of a penniless ragamuffin eccentric that is both infuriating and abasing. Second, there isn't actually a main point to all this. As stated in the beginning, this is merely a record of thoughts, written in a stream-of-consciousness fashion with no true purpose other than to drain the thoughts from my head. I suppose, to distill a message from my rant, I would say that it is that I've wasted another year, and will no doubt waste more; and when my youth has passed, and I am filled with regret for my lost potential, I will weep and loath myself, for I had seen it coming, and could do nothing to stop it, weak-willed as I am.

On the ropes.

2009-12-09T13:47:00.000-08:00

My new creed and approach to House-Politics (Not the house of representatives, MY house) has yielded fairly positive results. I didn't necessarily succeed in my original objective, but I greatly diminished the influence of my enemy, and have acquired the tool to crush that enemy totally, should I need to. The only problem is that crushing said enemy would put an extra amount of strain on me. I'd be forced to drive out of my way more than I already have to, and be exposed to negativity far more.

As I have it now, I don't have to take my enemy to school, or even talk to her. Should circumstances change, I can use my newfound knowledge to be rid of her once and for all. Powerful allies are a wondrous thing, when sent in the right direction.

Anyway, onto more mundane happenings. I just returned from California last night. I got everything settled (other than finding that someone [probably the enemy] stole my five best pens and my headphones). In twenty minutes I have my last class of the term. I'll turn in one last paper, listen to some people speak, and be done: free of academic responsibility until after the turn of the new year. Time to write, time to play, and best of all, time to read. I'm almost done reading the 48 Laws of Power for the third time. After I'm done, I think I'll read it a forth and fifth time, and by then I will hopefully have ingrained enough of the knowledge into my psyche that I won't have to exercise conscious effort to maintain my Aware-Mindset. I will be naturally cautious, by then, almost entirely capable of distancing myself from my emotions so that I may act rationally, and wisely. I do that already, for the most part. Unlike some within my house, I've learned well to keep my mouth shut, and not act rashly in the face of insult or injury.

I'd like to mention, for my own sake (I doubt it affects you readers at all), that I've begun dreaming more. For most of my life I would never remember dreaming at all (maybe I didn't dream), but over the last month or so I've been dreaming with more frequency and more awareness of the dream's content. It is bizarre to me, but it definitely helps me understand myself better. An excellent tool. Forgive my pride in normal biological/mental function, but it's a new experience for me.

Class is about to begin. Hopefully in the coming weeks I'll write some more. I might write stories, or I might write some philosophical thoughts. We'll see.

Niente è vero, tutto è permesso.

Quote me on this one.

2009-12-05T00:51:00.000-08:00

Kimberly: done with her. One of the Laws of my new pseudo-religion demand that I extricate myself from the unfortunate, tumultuous, unlucky, etc. Kimberly is all those things, and for two years now her meddling has made me unhappy. So, I'll not be talking with her, or hanging out with her, or taking her anywhere.

"I'm done." -Christian Jahn

That's the quote.

Some old blogs and stories...

2009-12-02T18:13:00.000-08:00

Have been deleted. So if you look for them for some reason or another, and can't find them, know that they were destroyed.

On another note, I am leaving for California on the morrow. I am called down to the land of sunshine and desert to attend the funeral of great-grandmother Leah Jahn, Lady of the late Millard Jahn; Mother of David and James Jahn, the latter of which is Father to Christopher and Jeffrey Jahn, the former of his children being my own father. She passed away Monday. 'Requiescat in pace.' I am due to return Tuesday evening. I may be out of contact with most of ye' folk of the North until then.

Bring back exile!

2009-11-23T18:06:00.000-08:00

I've been working on a paper that is against minimum mandatory sentencing and pro judicial discretion. I was driving home a week or so ago, and was thinking about imprisonment, and the death sentence, and punishment in general. I came to the conclusion that exile has gone out of style, and should be brought back. At least, in the ideal sense that I envision in my mind, it should be brought back. Perhaps many more well-informed intelligent people could give me a list of reasons of why it doesn't work (which is why, I assume, we don't do it), but until they do I'll keep thinking it.

I don't know the specifics of how we'd use exile, or for what crimes, but here's some of the thoughts of what I'd like, in the abstract. Imprisoning people is expensive, and executing them immoral (as well as expensive, for those who don't care). So I say that with certain crimes (it'd be up to the lawmakers which I suppose but I'd choose drug-dealing crimes, perhaps) should warrant exile. Depending on the severity of the crime, the criminal could be exiled from our town, from our county, our state, our region, or even country, instead of imprisonment. I guess it's a bit of a douchey system in the way that we're throwing our garbage onto other people's (other cities) lawn, but still, I like the idea of "we don't like you because of what crime you committed, so GTFO." Then, if they come back, we could proceed with the imprisoning.

Obviously we'd have to still use incarceration on people who commit violent crimes. I think imprisonment should be a way to keep the general citizenry safe from the dangerous. But we could still exile the scum of our towns, like the drug dealers, pimps/prostitutes, thieves, vandals, etc. I guess, if it were a national system, if they continued their undesirable behavior in another town, the exile radius would go up a level (IE, we kick a prostitute out of St. Helens, then they steal in Scappoose, so we kick them out of the county. Then they deal drugs in Portland, so we kick them out of the state. They start prostituting in Fresno, we kick 'em out of the west. Then they're caught breaking into someone's store or house in Jacksonville, and we kick 'em out of the country).

Also, I really like that Greek practice or story (I can't remember which it was. Was it even Greek?) where every year they vote to have one citizen exiled from the city for a year. That's a thoroughly entertaining idea as well. One immediate problem I see is that most people aren't well known enough to get many votes, so we'd probably only be exiling our town politicians, or school board members or something. Still...

This was just a musing of mine for entertainment, so please, share your thoughts on the idea of exile with me. What's wrong with my ideas? If exile had to be implemented, how would you do it?

A second campaign

2009-11-14T01:04:00.000-08:00

Justin is unhappy with our current campaign. Why? Because Erik and Will don't want to play very often, so he proposed starting another one. His suggested players: Daniel, Shelby, Evan (Daniel's friend), and himself. Daniel and Evan backed out, so now we're going with Brad and Grant as replacements. Justin and Shelby are going to play Dark Elves (The stock of elves that were cursed to become drow. Dark skin and black hair. No Darkvision.) Shelby is gonna play a Cleric of Tempus (no clue why a dark elf worships Tempus...) and Justin is going to play a binder. They summon these strange beings called Vestiges that exist beyond reality, beyond life, death, and undeath. Gods cannot touch them, though the lowliest mortal can summon them and bind them. Binders summon the Vestiges, bargain with them, and bind them to their soul, gaining strange powers. Grant and Brad are going to play a fighter and paladin, respectively.

I am going to run a character too, I think. Well, an NPC that will accompany them. He's a Truenamer. Truenamer's speak Truespeech, the primal language of the universe, using the True-names of things to manipulate reality. Ironically, he himself was an orphan, and grew up without a name. Thusly, he goes merely by Nobody (or No-One, or the Nameless One). He has a personal Truename, like everyone else, but that's different. A man without a name, he understands better than most the power names hold. His master, who taught him his art, is called Bartleby, and he sent Nobody to be a spy amongst the Collectors, a group of Truenamers led by Illumians who collect Truename lore.

Who, sir? You, sir?

2009-11-03T01:35:00.000-08:00

Well, I turned in my story with nearly no change at all. I think I replaced two words. That's it. Because nobody who requested my story managed to reply with any criticisms or suggestions (one person replied, at least, but it was only compliments). I'll be sure to post my grade when it's given to me, as well as what the teacher had to say about it. And if it's bad, those who read my story and neglected to help me will feel guilty. Unless the feedback and grade are good, in which case they'll feel justified for their laziness, and I'll have to find another way to make them feel the guilt they deserved to feel.
Tomorrow I have to write a paper, one that I don't want to write. I've written three pages already, and have three more to go. It is an argument paper, but it's about something I feel strongly about, not at present anyway, distracted as I've been. Which reminds me, I need to write some more for My Shadow. Somebody get on my ass about that. A few little comments or snide remarks ought to do. "Been a while since I've seen anything in your Shadow," or "Real world suddenly more important than the infinite imaginary ones, you selfish existential BASTARD!"

I need to think about a new idea for a short story, or maybe actually write out a few of my older ideas.
Oh, the stresses of the unemployed. Complaining whilst I squander what is likely the most pleasant times of my life. Ah, youth. I hate people my age.

Don't ask me why the text is smaller than usual. Something to do with the new interface. Small is smaller than small used to be, but normal is still bigger than that. Blech.

Morning

2009-10-26T09:20:00.000-07:00

Nothing important to report today.

Soup and coffee make good breakfast (for me).

Also, I happily have a little bit of spare time this morning, which means that I can read Jamaica Kincaid's "Girl" and Alice Walker's "Everyday Use"--the reading for my English class, which I have neglected to do in favor of other things, like reading a few chapters out of my writing book (and playing video games and hanging out with Brad and watching Spongebob. Hey, we all have our off days as far as getting stuff done is concerned).

Pessimism and Lying My Ass Off

2009-10-20T15:57:00.000-07:00

I applied for a few jobs at Target (the one in Hillsboro and the one in Tigard). I don't think they'll hire me, but it'd definitely be nice if they did. On their online application they put you through two long-ass questionnaires. So, naturally, I lied my ass off.

Well, that's not entirely true. A lot of the time being truthful was just as useful. For example, I didn't lie when I said I'm incredibly dependable, and that past supervisors (in this case, teachers) would attest to that fact. Also that I'm a logical thinker, that I don't take safety risks, tend to be a leader and not a follower, etc. The lying came in when they ask "are you more pessimistic or optimistic?" or "Are you more stubborn or flexible?" I said I was optimistic. I also said I wasn't very reserved, and that I tend to be flexible. Which is sort of true. I'm stubborn with friends and family, but with co-workers, fellow students, and probably customers I tend to be more flexible. So for the purpose of working, sure, I'll be flexible.

Anyway, I still don't think they'll even call me in for an interview, let alone hire me. Places I apply to never do. Selfish bastards...

If Target does, then I'll put in a disclaimer whenever I complain about corporations at large.

"Greedy blood-sucking mutha-fuckas--Except for Target. I'm cool with them."

Until then, though: Selfish bastards...

Blogging; stupid class.

2009-10-19T15:15:00.000-07:00

At this moment, I am sitting in my writing class. Topic of discussion: is blogging Journalism? We all know the answer to that. But the discussion has been stolen by stupid people (they're now talking about fascism and mass media) and so I thought that I'd consult my own blogiverse. We're supposed to be discussing "what is journalism?" essentially. It's an argument of definition. My conclusion is that journalism should:
1) be dedicated to truth,
2) attempt to pierce veils of prejudice and deceit,
3) be checked and double checked for accuracy by several people, preferably an editor.

Perhaps, though, I hold my standards too high. Here is the dictionary definition of journalism (which is not a definitive conclusion, just another thing to scrutinize when trying to define journalism):

"Writing that reflects superficial thought and research, a popular slant, and hurried composition, conceived of as exemplifying topical newspaper or popular magazine writing as distinguished from scholarly writing."

This definition, unless I'm mistaken (and I very well might be, as I am incredibly tired at present) paints a picture of something akin to gossip on a slightly more professional level. The definition does not entail anything about a standard of what makes for good journalism, or what exactly journalistic pieces are supposed to be or do, on an ethical level.

I spent a few minutes looking for a better definition or two:

" b : writing characterized by a direct presentation of facts or description of events without an attempt at interpretation c : writing designed to appeal to current popular taste or public interest".

I would think that definition "b" is the closest to what I believe journalism to be. So, my answer is that not all blogging is journalism, but it certainly can be. The thing is that most bloggers don't make any attempt at journalistic pursuit.

Forgive the crappiness of this post. I was multi-tasking. Following a discussion, making comments, and taking sporadic notes and ideas down on this blog. My apologies, readers.

Mrs. Sipe

2009-10-16T15:49:00.000-07:00

Is a great writing teacher. Thanks to her English and Writing class Senior year, my current writing class (WR122) is incredibly easy (at least compared to what it could be). All this business about audience, warrants, and especially the MLA format citation and documentation is all basically review for me. That means that I've gotten full points on everything and have had little trouble doing the work, like the critical analysis paper or the short assignments. Yay.

Monday I have an oral midterm for German. She (the German instructor, Florence Deutsch-Timmons) will be meeting with us two at a time (we drew randomly for times as well as partners. There are some pretty scary/dirty folks in that class. I lucked out and got paired up with Mike, a cute fellow my age. So I'm a bit shallow at times, but I would be silly not to appreciate what little good luck floats my way.) I'm pretty sure I'm ready. She's asking us simple things like "What's your name? What's your last name? Spell it. Where do you come from? Describe yourself. What's the date today? The time? What are you wearing? What do you see in this classroom?" etc. I've got it down. I printed the list of questions she will ask us and answered them in writing just to make sure I could.

Also, I got pulled over today for running a yellow light. The cop was a safety idealist, so he pulled me over to lecture me, more or less. Don't get me wrong; I'm not in any hurry. I usually stop for yellow lights. Today however, I was preoccupied with something dumb, scratching or picking my nose or something, and I was just following the guy in front of me with the other half (or whatever percentage is left over from nose-picking) of my mind. However, my insurance card, as well as Mom's (I was driving her car) had both expired, and I hadn't got my new one from home, yet. So I got a little citation, and I have to go to Scappoose and show them my current card.

Anyway, I probably got off easy, so I won't complain.

My computer, Alastor, is alive and well once more.

2009-10-13T19:45:00.000-07:00

I bought a new charger off of E-Bay. Unlike most of the things I buy there, this reached me exceptionally quickly with only paying for the minimal shipping. (Which happened to be ten bucks. But when you're paying less than $10 for the charger itself, you still feel pretty accomplished having only spent a grand total of $20-ish.) A new patch on WoW has messed up for some reason, so I'm now attempting to reinstall Warcraft in an effort to make it work.
In other news, we've roped in two new players: Will and Jackie. Will has a little experience playing with us before, while Jackie is a total noob. Will is playing a Wood Elf rogue (to replace our Half-Elf ranger as melee DPS, though he won't multi-task as tank as well, sadly) that is female. He always seems to play female elves for some reason. Jackie is a Half-Wild-Elf bard. Also, we went to Grant's today and got all the miniatures, books, and dice back. Our D&D hoard is back to it's full glory. Grant and I exchanged gifts at the meeting (I gave him a wand, he gave me a pair of big ol' brass dice [d6's] as well as his old dice, miniatures, and books) so that was kind of cool.
I'd write more of my exodus from my laptop and blogging, but I have homework to do. Story of my life, this term. I have to be absolutely sure I'm ready to present The Metamorphosis in class tomorrow, and honestly studying German some more couldn't hurt.

Hey Universe; Fuck Off.

2009-09-30T21:21:00.000-07:00

The reason I say that is because (forgive the following phrase), as usual, my shit is all fucked up by the Universe. Or some extra-dimensional being that has taken a dislike to me because it thinks I'm a threat, or I smell extra-dimensionally funky. Anyway, here's the story. I have school on Montag und Mittwoch. After my English classes, but before my German class, I have about an hour and a half to kill. So I do what comes natural in such a bind when surrounded by invisible Wi-Fi: play Warcraft.

So today, I'm playing Warcraft on my Death Knight, Endrai. (In my character's lore, Endrai is the brother of my characters Morticon the Mage [Deceased, I.E. Deleted] and Adanos the Paladin. He's also the cousin of Justin's characters Drezen the Mage and Anastriel the Mage. [Although technically, Drezen is Anastriel with a digital sex-change, but in lore we just say Anastriel died.])

But that's not really important to the story. The point is, I was playing my Death Knight, when I noticed my battery getting a bit low. So I fish out my charger and plug it into the wall. I hear some electrical hissing and snapping, and realize that there is a little cut in the wire--a souvenir from our old dog, Molly. The hissing ceased, and I plugged in the other side of the cord into my computer only to find that I'm not getting any power.

So, my charger is broken. So that means, unless I can find another charger around the house, that my laptop is also temporarily useless. Thankfully my Death Knight hit level 80 before my battery died (that's the maximum level for those of you who don't know) and I also got my new spells from the trainer.

Right now I'm in a computer lab at PCC Rock Creek. Kimberly's English class doesn't get out until 10 o'clock. I got here at 9. It's 9:30. So, instead of playing me some WoW and testing out all my new DK abilities (Army of the Dead, for instance) I get to blog. For the next fifteen minutes anyway. Then they'll kick me out, and I'll wait out the last quarter-hour in digital exile, with no computer screen to comfort me. Damnable Universe. It had to break my cord when it KNEW that I left the books I'm reading at home.

Also, when I walked into the building I saw Jay Groom walking out. I only had him Sophomore year, but I'm wearing the same hat I wore all that year as well as most of Senior year, so he recognized me. Or he just recognized me because he's an intelligent fella. We locked eyes, and awkwardly waved (if you could call it that. We both had drink cups in our hands so it was more of a drink-salute).

Oh, and my phone is dead, so I can't make conversation to kill those last fifteen minutes either.
Xian: 0 Universe: 3

Little synopsis of week 1 o' college.

2009-09-24T23:08:00.000-07:00

It was all right. Intro to Literature, which is just about short stories, is fairly interesting. WR 122 is all about argument as far as writing goes, so that's right up my alley. Lastly is German. It's pretty interesting. I've only been to two classes, but I think I've already learned a lot. (Probably not though, but since I've never done well in language class before, it feels like a lot to me.) For instance, if I had to, I could count to a million in German. Go me. Beyond that, I only know an extremely limited amount of nouns, adjectives, colors, and commands. Like, go, walk, run, jump, stand up, sit down, read, write, give me, take, look, listen, open, and close.

I've also made a few mistakes regarding planning and won't screw up so badly again. For instance: On the first day, I didn't bring a fork for my cup o' noodle. I had to buy a disposable one for a nickel. Second day: I left my laptop at home, but then had to check my email right when I got to school, and also had an hour to kill later that evening waiting for Kimberly to get out of a class. Also that day, when I go from Rock Creek to Sylvania I tried an alternate route to avoid traffic. So, instead of taking about forty minutes to get to Sylvania, surprise surprise, it took me a little over an hour. So, from now on, I'll just let TomTom rule my life the moment I begin driving to and from Sylvania.

Ideas can come from anywhere.

2009-09-15T21:52:00.001-07:00

I was playing Rock Band with Justin, and when we start a show, they always give us a random singer because we don't have a designated one. Now, in the game my avatar has gray hair and a beard, and wears these cool looking monk/wizard/necromancer clothes in brown, has some rings and also some tattoos on his hands. He looks arcane and cool.

Our singer was a young guy with a black mullet that had the same clothes on as me (no rings or tattoos) but in black. I was pissed because I felt this digital creation was trying to steal my character's thunder.

The idea I had for a story was this:

What if there's an old wizard; he's not evil, or power-hungry or mad. He's just an old wizard. Keeps to himself, helps those who seek aid from him, yadda yadda.

But -- and here's where the conflict arises -- for some reason (maybe they've all died out, or been hunted down, or left the land, take your pick) all the wizards or those capable of learning magic are gone except for our old wizard, and an incredibly greedy, selfish, evil young man. So in the story in order for magic and magical knowledge to carry on, the wizard has to train and teach this evil person, knowing full well the knowledge he's passing down will be abused and misused.

It seemed interesting in my head.

Car-Smack.

2009-09-15T16:59:00.000-07:00

Today I was going to leave to run some errands (post-office, grocery shopping, etc.) and when I was about to leave I attempted to put my car into drive, but it got stuck in between Neutral and Drive. So I let off the brake and pushed the gas a little and, lo' and behold, I rolled backwards and smacked the car of my mom's carpool buddy, Rita. I checked my car and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. Her car has a dent in the side, but I really don't know if it was already there or not.

/shrug.

We'll see I guess.

No mun-eh!

2009-09-04T11:46:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm finally out of money. Basically. I have money enough for books, but that's about it. I'm being really cheap when it comes to giving rides now. I charge for the price of gas and just a tad extra. I finally put forth the effort to write up a resume, but I'm waiting on Dusty's opinion of how I did making it before I actually put it out anywhere.

Gas will become even more used than it already is. Currently I use it to run errands around town, give folks rides, and visit my boyfriend in Hillsboro. This will increase, being used for all prior uses mentioned, plus to get to and from school, as well as taking my brother Noah to his language-therapy sessions (also in Hillsboro).

So I really need a job. If any of my few readers know anything about:

A) Where some jobs are,
or
B) What a good resume looks like, and how to make one better,

that would be helpful.

Because I am po'h, now. And it sucks... again.

Wasting money.

2009-08-18T21:31:00.000-07:00

I'm about to do it again. So, I ask you, dear reader -- which item should I waste my money on? They're all the same price. I'll accept valid arguments regarding coolness/awesomeness of the character or of the look of the actual wand itself. I have a few in my mind already. Sirius Black and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore are my two favorite characters in the series, so that's points for them. I dig the runes on Sirius' wand, but I kind of want Dumbledore's knowing it's the Elder Wand. I like the twisted crazed look of Alastor Moody's wand, though. More unconventional. The only reason I consider Tom Riddle's wand is because for some reason (maybe it's because I'm a DM) I tend to identifywith/admire/feel sorry for (not sure which) the antagonist. That and because of his renowned magical power -- powerful people are interesting.

So what do you say? Even if you don't give a damn your input is valued.

New room, new work space.

2009-08-15T14:52:00.001-07:00

With Grandpa Geoff Goode's return to Australia the newly refinished room has been given to me. This was once the room that Justin and I shared for nearly all of junior year. As you can see, I put together a new desk and chair from IKEA and put it in the closet -- I like being secluded when I write. Also notable, on my shelf I have two "X" bookends. My vanity told me I needed them, so I bought 'em. You'll also note the lack of books on that shelf, but don't worry: all my books are stuffed in that little brown cabinet with the hat on it. I'll probably move all of my books (or at the very least, all of my hardcovers) to the white shelf, though. (Again, for the sake of the book-ends). I will now spend the rest of the day moving all my junk from my old room to my new one. Yay freedom.

Sigh.

2009-08-13T21:12:00.000-07:00

My sister (age 12) , honestly and truly did not know what the word "ignorant" meant. I thought the irony was so entertaining I didn't bother telling her the definition.

I have an idea.

2009-08-12T07:42:00.000-07:00

It addresses two minor issues.

1) I don't write enough. (Lots of writers say that I'm sure, but really, it's true for me.)

2) I have a blog that I don't post on often enough.

The idea? Every day (or thereabout. Everybody becomes busy with stuff, so maybe this will be every few days or every week, whatever.) I will write using a writing prompt on my blog "My Shadow". It'll probably be good for me to get back into the trend of writing often so I will be ready when school starts.

So, during one of the first mornings in which I've actually woken up before seven AND stayed awake for the rest of the morning, I shall begin what will hopefully become a good habit. Cheers to me. (I raised a coffee, if you had to visualize me -- it wasn't very well made; a bit bitter.)

If only I could remember to floss everyday.

My first writing is done, by the way, if you are interested in reading in it.

Sad-bad.

2009-08-10T00:53:00.000-07:00

I cry too much.

Out! Out, brief candle!

2009-08-07T02:25:00.000-07:00

I should have known. Should have foreseen. Should not have let my guard down.

But I've played the part of the fool, yet again -- and will countless more times, you can be sure.

I was, as you may already know, very sad, for a long time. A deeper sorrow than I've known before that lasted far longer than any I had previously endured. About six months. It was an evolving thing, but in the myriad forms taken by this despair there were two major themes: loneliness and self-loathing.

I regret to inform you, dear reader, that it has returned, in full force. More accurately, I should think, it had never really left. I deluded myself into thinking I was free, that my head was finally above the water, that I had escaped the dark tunnel that long imprisoned me so "unjustly".

I am a fool. This is what I deserve; it's what any fool deserves. I am a complete idiot for ever letting optimism ensnare me, even for a second. I was sad for so, so long, and I was all too willing to look for any light at the end of the tunnel. It wasn't an exit. Just a candle. A brief hope. A fool's hope. Candle's out. Despair has returned.

I fear that it will always be this way, a tumultuous sea of depression, with short cresting moments of hope and possible happiness, immediately followed with long, dismal and dark troughs of sorrow and brooding.

The reason for this is unknown, but from my most recent experience I can only attempt to theorize as to why I'm cursed to such an existence. I imagine is as a sort of ordering malfunction. The sort of person that I desire -- nay, require -- is someone of outstanding moral character. Kind, noble, loyal, committed; everything I want to be. The first problem is, this class of being, so goodly and pure, is (seemingly) exceedingly rare in:

A) People my age.
B) People of my orientation.
C) People who fall within categories A and B simultaneously.

The second, more depressing problem is this. People who are of such moral fiber are better than I am. They are too good. I cannot possibly hope to meet the standards of one so celestial. That means that, on the axises of moral character and standards I fall into a tragic niche: nearly all the people who are of both my age and orientation do not meet my standards, AND I do not meet the standards of those who meet mine. There is clearly a conflict here. This is where the lonely aspect of my despair comes from.

Then there's the self-loathing. Who am I (a pessimistic, fatalistic, insubstantial nothing) to have such high standards? Who am I to self-righteously speak ill of my peers, and reject them and their ways? I'm no one of importance. No one of stature, prestige, or nobility. I follow the law. I don't drink, I don't do drugs... so what? I'm lawful. Does that make me good? Does it make me kind? Noble? Accepting? Selfless, accommodating, brave, fair, or any other aspect of human greatness?

Hell no.

I'm nobody and nothing. I'm not particularly good, nor particularly evil. One might say that I am more loathsome and pitiful than any immoral character -- because at least they're something. They have a value even if it's a negative one. They're still part of the equation, they still matter.

And here is where we find the hatred I feel for myself. I'm a hypocrite of sorts, not to mention a worthless illusion of a man. I'm smoke and mirrors, pretending to be a thing of greatness and substance, to be a noble thing worthy of respect and admiration. I apologize for anyone who may have been hoodwinked by my desire to be something good, when I am nothing.

I would desire your hate, your loathing -- maybe even your pity -- but I do not believe I am worthy even of that. Do not let me occupy your mind, heart, or soul, for I am nobody.

My role is that of fool and lonely man. I am cursed to endure despair, and occasionally be tempted with my greatest desire, convinced that it is finally within my grasp, only to have it snatched away. But I deserve it, for existing, for being what I am. A just punishment.

Bull shit bull shit bull shit!!!

2009-08-04T21:13:00.000-07:00

I'm furious. You know how Subway-guy wasn't around for my interview? Well, the guy was there earlier that day. He interviewed the girls only, hired two of them, and cancelled ALL the guys' interviews. Anthony (one of the workers) told me not to expect a call back. Who do I complain to for gender discrimination? Employment Office or something?

Fucking bull-shit.

Mother fucker.

2009-08-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

Someone shot up a gay club in Israel.

Bastard.

Woot.

2009-08-02T01:32:00.003-07:00

Kevin is back from running camp. Yay!

That is all.

Inter-mingling.

2009-07-28T14:31:00.000-07:00

I'm reading several philosophy books at once, namely A Beginner's Guide to Reality and Republic. In A Beginner's Guide I'm currently reading the section entitled "The Doors of Perception" or "Are Colours Real?" In the chapter "The Prisoner" Baggott (the author) describes an allegory Plato included in The Republic. Baggott says that Plato "developed a distinctive theory of knowledge based on the notion of things existing in the world as eternal and immutable forms. What we take to be the physical world around us is merely a world of appearances, or of experience, and the appearances of things only approximate the true nature of their forms. The forms are abstractions. They are ideals related, possibly in a very obscure way, to the things as they appear to us."

This idea is familiar to me, and should be familiar to anyone who has read Roger Zelazny's "Chronicles of Amber" series.

Here is the aforementioned allegory Plato wrote, as described by Baggott:

Imagine you are a prisoner in a dark cave. You have been a prisoner all your life, your legs shackled to the floor and your neck shackled to the wall so that you cannot move far and cannot look in any direction except forwards. You have never experienced the world outside the cave. You have never seen sunlight. In fact, you have no knowledge of a world outside your immediate environment and are not even aware that you are a prisoner, or that you are being held in a cave. it is dark in the cave, but you are not alone. You can't see your fellow prisoners but you have learned how to communicate with them. Their experiences are as limited as yours, but your world is not one of total darkness. you see men and women passing along the wall in front of you, 'carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and various materials'. Some are talking. As far as you and your fellow prisoners are concerned, the cave and the men and women you can see against the far wall constitute your reality. this is all you have ever known. But you are deceived.

Unknown to you and your fellow prisoners, there is a fire constantly burning at the back of the cave, filling it with a dim, sepulchral light. The men and women you can see against the far wall are in fact shadows cast by you and your fellow prisoners. When you hear them speaking, it is in fact you or another prisoner speaking, but the cave has an echo which makes it impossible for you to appreciate that the sounds are coming from you, not the shadows. Your world is a world of crude appearances of objects which you have mistaken for the objects themselves, 'literally nothing but the shadows of the images'.

One day, one of your fellow prisoners breaks free from his shackles and succumbing to curiosity, walks out of the cave into the daylight. On the way he passes the fire. Outside he is temporarily blinded by the sunlight, and for some time prefers to skulk in the shadows that constitute the reality he understands and where he feels he belongs.

Eventually his eyes recover, and he is astonished at the marvelous spectacle of three-dimensional shapes of objects and their vivid colors - Plato's world of forms, of a reality constituted by eternal and immutable objects-in-themselves. this is all so much more vivid than the reality he has known, of the shadows, of the objects-as-they-appear.

He scrambles back down into the cave to tell you what he has seen. But his descriptions are inadequate. How can he describe objects of three dimensions to people who have never experienced them? How can he explain what it felt like to see colors - intense greens and blues - to people who have never seen anything other than vague, dark gray shadows moving along the wall? It is clear to you that his 'escape' from the cave has driven him insane. You quickly grow tired of his pleading, and kill him.

Baggott goes on to analyze different ways we could interpret Plato's idea, and my favorite interpretation is this: "In The Republic Plato talks about the ideas or forms of a bed and a table, suggesting that when we perceive these everyday objects we only see vague shadows of the true forms of a bed and a table. This would mean that, according to Plato, our perception of an everyday object such as a lemon is but a mere shadow of the true form of a lemon. If we take a second lemon from the refrigerator and study it hard we would conclude that it is slightly different in shape and size from the first. These differences represent imperfections. In fact, both are merely shadows of the one true form of a lemon, or the idea of a lemon. An alien visitor able to perceive such a true form, like the prisoner who escaped from the cave, could not even begin to describe it to us."

Another epic analogy put forth by Baggott used The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy as an example. If you've read the books, you know that mice are the protrusion into our dimension, reality or what have you, of super-intelligent vast pan-dimensional beings. Along the same idea as Plato's, the mice we know are just the shadows of the true form of mice. Just as we cannot perceive these true forms of mice because we cannot see beyond our three dimensions of space and one dimension of time, we also cannot perceive Plato's world of forms.

So basically, Plato says that we can never hope to understand the true nature of reality, locked as we are in the prison of our mortal senses. "We are prisoners in the cave."

The same idea exists in Zelazny's novels. In his fictional universe there are an infinite number of worlds, realities, and planes of existence, but they are all merely shadows of the one true world: Amber. Even our own Earth is one such shadow, its occupants merely distorted figures of the real people that live in Amber. Our languages, cities and architecture -- all are just distorted shadows of the one true language and city. In the novels, the true nobility, the Princes and Princesses of Amber, have the ability to walk in Shadow, visiting the distorted realities, even shaping them to their desires. If they so desired they could even find and interact with shadow-versions of themselves. The point is that the occupants of each shadow, such as you and I here on Shadow Earth, are oblivious to the fact that there are higher levels of reality, and that we aren't real, per se.

And so this is where I begin to wonder. Let's say that Plato is right, and the world of forms is beyond our perception. That means that the tables, beds, and lemons are all just distorted views of the real ideas and forms of tables, beds, and lemons. Where does that leave us, the humans? Are we all just shadows of the "real" people who exist in that world of forms, or are we truly ourselves, though we lack the ability to see our "true appearances"? By that I mean that you, the reader, exist, but I cannot see the real you. I just see a distorted view of your true form. You exist, obviously -- it's just beyond my ability to perceive your true self. If this is the case, what is the true self? This purest form or idea of you, or me? Is this thing or form of ourselves our souls?

Or are we all just shadows of the true beings? If so, how many true beings are there? Are all the men shadows of the one true man, and the women likewise shadows of the one true woman? Or are all the goodly men shadows of the one true good man, and the evil men shadows of the true evil man? Or maybe the shadows of this "Pantheon of Real Beings" overlap and cross each other creating the many varied and different people in our reality, combining the various traits such as greed, laziness, kindness, independence, etc. in differing degrees, making us all unique.

Maybe I should stop before I confuse myself more.

Substantial Writing

2009-07-26T01:10:00.000-07:00

I believe it has been many weeks since I've written anything of substance--to mean "full of notable thought or feeling"-- and I don't know how I should feel about it. As a self-proclaimed "writer" this should probably be disturbing, or shameful, but for now it's just perplexing, to a degree.

Am I so boring or lacking in muse or inspiration that I have nothing to say? Have I been turned or brainwashed into some sick sheeple (sheople?) type drone, without opinion or emotion? Has some force, external or in, stolen from me that which I hold dear: my writing ability? Obviously my skill still exists; I can write. But just because I know how doesn't mean I can do it well. There are no essays, articles, or posts to show such ability.

It would seem that I have nothing to say.

Bah.

Patience, young Padawan.

2009-07-20T01:44:00.000-07:00

Things with Kevin are progressing slowly. Granted, I expected things to progress slowly, but this is slow relative to my first imaginings of pace.

So very slow.

I asked him out, as planned-- a nerve-racking experience, mind you: two shy quiet-styled people in a slightly awkward encounter-- but he didn't quite accept. He didn't flat out tell me "Hell no, what are you thinking?" but explained that he's incredibly nervous, as he's been with no one before, and has things he wishes to deal with first.

This was a bit of a blow to my self-esteem, but he assured me that his opinion of me was high indeed, with descriptors such as "amazing," "perfect," and "incredible." He thought that it was not a bad idea at all to ask him, and he explained that in the future we could definitely become involved with one another. You see, he wants to come out to his parents before he starts spending a lot of time with me, as he's quite paranoid that they will begin asking questions.

Apparently he's to tell them before the end of the month, that is, within a tenday.

When he told me these things in his semi-awkward Kevin-ey way, I immediately assumed he'd found something about me he didn't like, and wanted nothing more to do with me. I offered to leave him alone, as I would not want to become a James-like nuisance, but this drew from him a convincing explanation that he really just wanted to get rid of some stresses in his life, like his parents, before spending more time and becoming potentially attached to me.

Another nice little step in the right direction is that Kevin, who is renowned for his shyness, suggested we start talking on the phone. I know it sounds damn ridiculous--"Talking on the phone, who gives a damn?"-- but it is a good sign.

I think I'll be done now. This already sounds way too much like the writings of some excited little girl.

I'm excited for next Tuesday.

2009-07-10T00:49:00.000-07:00

Brennon and Kevin are coming over. We're going to play video games, have a Ramen cook off, and then when the time comes, we're going to the midnight showing of the new Harry Potter movie in Scappoose.

But the important part to me is that I'm going to ask out Kevin on that day.

He's exactly the sort of person I've been hoping for, but didn't think existed in this town.

He's quiet, shy, and incredibly good (good as in kind, generous, never been into drugs/alcohol. What I tend to define as good). His values coincide with mine, with extreme emphasis on loyalty and honesty. That's right, all this and gay. He's religious, even though his family isn't. I'm not big on religion, as you probably know, but to each his own. If that's what keeps him good, than I won't oppose it.

The catch? He's about two years younger than I am. This could be disheartening, but that's the same gap as Shelby and Justin, and they've been together for over a year, so I'll try to be optimistic.

Catch # 2? He likes girl music. But whatever, I'll deal with it. The good outweighs the bad vastly.

A tad bit of optimism you say?

2009-07-05T23:54:00.000-07:00

I've befriended an interesting sort of person. We'll see what happens.

The opposite results.

2009-06-29T00:47:00.000-07:00

As a DM I learned a lesson today: never underestimate your PC's. The plan was this: with the magic talisman in hand, the PC's would go to the Dwarf-Exile town, and they did. Over the next few days of A-Teaming it up (Durellion climbed a cairn of boulders to get a tressym, a winged cat, and fell, ruining a house and killing a dog.) and investigating some mysterious murders, the PC's see a fortress appear in the sky, guarded by four floating towers. One tower leaves the pack, and lands at the edge of the town. Githyanki pour from it, and after several waves of them, the PC's ransack the tower.

At this point I was going to give them 1d12 hours before the next towers would invade. After 8 hours of resting in the tower, the PC's did quite the opposite of what I had planned. I wanted more towers to invade, forcing the PC's to flee through a portal, carrying them to another part of the continent. So what did they do?

They hijacked the flying tower and crashed it into the fortress. After clearing out the fortress, they took control of that, using a long bridge that ended in a platform to perform air maneuvers and knock the last three towers out of the sky. They cleared out four more watch towers in the fortress before having it all to themselves, and landed the fortress. Whatever happens next is sure to be exciting with this group.

But remember this, PC's, before you go tromping off to the Astral Plane to deal with this Githyanki directly: Time doesn't necessarily flow and work the same in the Astral Plane. You don't heal naturally over time. If you get a paper cut, you're stuck with it until it's healed magically. Sucks, huh?

A summary.

2009-06-19T14:10:00.000-07:00

Before I continue creating more material for our campaign, I thought I'd write down everything that's happened so far, that way if I miss something or get something wrong, it can be corrected (probably by Dusty only, but I'll try to get my other PC's to read this, too

The first group (Lukavago, Saloth Sar, Adoril Trannyth, and Yasliphna) are assembled around a set of tracks just after noon in the desert badlands of Okar Nu'goth. They are seeking a group of orcs that Saloth may be related to, and these tracks could lead them to the orcs. It occurs to all present, with the exception of the Gray-Elf Wizard Lukavago, that these tracks belong to goblins, perhaps three or more of them. Luka, self-assured of his vast intelligence, proudly proclaimed "these are vampire tracks. Fresh, left here not half an hour ago."

They are approached by the half-elf, Durellion, and after introducing themselves they are ambushed by the goblins they're attempting to track. they kill three of the four, stablizing the fourth. The druid cleaned up what few wounds were taken. The PC's claimed the platinum pieces that the goblins possessed. The captured goblin, who had explained that he was deserting his tribe due to conflict with an orc clan, led the PC's to his former tribe's lair. After a portion of the group was introduced to the goblin chief. The chief explained that the Bloody Claw Tribe (Goblins) were being hunted and oppressed by the Black Tooth Grin Clan (Orcs).

The Black Tooth Grin were after a trinket that was in the possession of the goblins. The goblins don't know why, but their late shaman said that the orcs must not get it. It was said that bad things would happen if any monstrous humanoid that wasn't a goblin procured the trinket. Lukavago professed interest in the trinket, and struck a deal with Otunga Dwarf-Biter: If they killed the Black Tooth Grin Chieftain then the goblins would surrender the hand-trinket to the PC's.

The PC's were guided to the orcish lands, and soon after crossing into Black Tooth Grin territory they were attacked by three orcs. They were summarily dispatched. The goblin guide had fled at the first sign of battle, and so the ranger led the PC's, following the tracks of the orcs back to their camp. They boldly entered the camp, bribing orcs with silver to grease the wheels to a meeting with the orc chieftain.

Upon meeting with Gortag Elf-Crusher, the PC's (with the exception of Saloth and Yasliphna) notice that Saloth looks incredibly similar to the chieftain. They ascertain that Saloth is the son of the chieftain. The adviser to Gortag, a shaman, explains that with the hand-trinket that the goblins possess, the orcs could invade Aravis Isle. The orcs would assemble many orc, ogre, giant, hobgoblin, and bugbear clans and lead them through a gate leading to the Isle, the key to which is the hand-amulet. The orcs learned of the amulet when raiding an old Dwarf-Exile outpost.

In exchange for bringing the amulet to Gortag, the PC's received magical items, one of which was a magic sword that belonged to Durellion's murdered mentor, and treasure. The PC's were sent off with an escort of Gortag's bugbear bodyguard, the chieftain's son (Saloth's half-brother), and four of the chieftain's most trusted men (orcs), as well as a pair of mules laden with supplies and the PC's treasure. The half-elf, desiring revenge for the murder of his mentor, led the orcs astray several days, making sure that they weren't followed. In the night the PC's ambushed the orcs, dousing them in oil and lighting them aflame. The druid animated the enemy campfire as an elemental, aiding in catching the enemies on fire.

After Saloth's half-brother burned to death, the PC's thought to tell the half-orc fighter of his ancestry. He seemed unperturbed. A few days later the PC's arrived at the goblin lair, and traded the goblins a gem for the trinket, assuring them that the orcs have been dealt with. After the exchange Lukavago attacked the chieftain's guards, and Yasliphna put an arrow in the chieftain's belly. The PC's killed all the goblin combatants in the lair, though "the fight in the goblin caves featured a vigorous cleaning of the ranger's clock by the diminutive foe" inspiring him to invest in better armor in the near future. Summarily the rest of the goblin tribe was put to death. The executions were carried out by Durellion and Lukavago. Loot taken from the goblins includes a set of full-plate armor, claimed by the half-orc, though desired by the paladin.

In regards to loot and treasure, one should note "the wizard's Smeagol-like attempts to lay claim to every piece of valuable loot discovered, or the inevitable ass-kicking he faces if he holds anything back from his rather violently inclined companions."

With the amulet in their possession, the PC's have no intention of returning it to the orcs: the Paladin, Adoril, would never let such evil and foul creatures have a gateway to his beloved home-city. It would seem that the plan is as follows; evade the Black Tooth Grin, find the rightful owners of the amulet and sell it to them (Shouldn't be too hard. Lukavago was raised by the dwarves, after all) spend some money, perhaps work on a few projects, and plot the the eventual destruction of the orc clan.

The most annoying sort of person.

2009-06-15T07:53:00.000-07:00

Someone who won't leave you alone, despite your continuous attempts to get them to do so.

Tigers and computer.

2009-06-12T08:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I got a new new laptop. I complained on my complain-blog about how the old one was broken. So yesterday I took it in to Fry's to either get repaired or replaced. I was going to back up all my data to my jump drive, but lo' and behold, I finally lost it. So Fry's got twenty more of my dollars for a new 8 GB jump drive. After wasting about half an hour in the store (I got attached to a combat flight simulator: Tom Clancy's "HAWX") I killed 15 more minutes backing up my files and got my old computer redeemed for store credit. They couldn't replace the computer because they were out of stock, so I used the store credit plus $90 of my own to upgrade to a much nicer bigger laptop.

Now, on to my true blog topic: Vicious animals in kid shows.

I started giving too much thought to children's shows today when I was sitting with the boys. The show was Ni-Hao Kai-Lan. The main character, a small chinese girl, is best friends with a tiger. So, sitting there, I thought "Why the fuck are we teaching our kids to try to 'be friends' with an animal that would kill us given the chance?" I don't understand why we should make them think tigers, bears, and all other manners of killer animals are our best friends. Shouldn't we make all the friendly cartoon characters dogs, cats, cows and sheep?

No sense in cartoons. I guess that's the point though, right?

Also, my favorite Mountain Dew variety--Game Fuel-- is back with a World of Warcraft theme. Minor woot there.

Pretty sure I'm fucked.

2009-06-09T22:19:00.000-07:00

I'm going to take the placement tests for PCC, and though I fear nothing from the reading or writing tests (I intend to shine) I'm pretty sure I'm going to look like a mathematical retard. Then I'll have to take a bunch of idiot math classes and waste money/time etc.

I'm fucked.

Not proper fucked.

Weight off my shoulders.

2009-06-07T22:59:00.000-07:00

Bullshit. I feel no relief, no happiness, no reprieve. I was hoping for some sort of elated feeling, or pride, or happiness. I'm still sad all the time, still angry and hateful of nearly everyone and everything. I tried to be optimistic: I hoped it would be some sort of light at the end of the tunnel deal. If I graduated I would just be able to relax and be at peace with the world for a little while.

Nope. People still fucking suck. People will always fucking suck.

Fucking optimism.

D&D Campaigning.

2009-06-01T17:10:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm graduating this week. My dad and grandfather are flying in, and some family like my aunt, uncle and grandma are coming to attend the party and graduation as well. (My mom wants to hook up my grandma from her side with my grandpa from my dad's side. Blech.)

But who cares?!

D&D, sucka! That's right, I'm DM-ing a new campaign heralding a new age of D&D awesomeness, and this sword is double-edged, baby! Not only am I entertaining my fellows and having fun, I'm also developing the world that is the setting of my book ever further. Regions, forms of government, more deities and religions, more conflict, more flavor. So the more I play D&D, the more material I have for my book.

True, it's a lot more work to create your own world instead of playing in Forgotten Realms, Eberron or GreyHawk (Who the hell plays Greyhawk, anyway?!), but I had a partially created world with Mythos and History already made for the book, so now I'm just taking it a step further.

I've helped Justin make his character, and I intend to help Shelby with hers later today. Erik can make his own character, as he's well-versed in the rules already.

I've discussed the lore of Justin's character with him, and we've come to this conclusion so far:
He's a Gray Elf, a race that lives in the mountains, but when his spellcaster parents took him to the rocky southern regions of Okar Nu'goth in search of the fabled dwarven Sorcerer-Exiles they met with tragedy: a warband, orcs, hobgoblins and bugbears led by a terrifying ogre mage, slew the Wizarding couple. They captured the young elf boy intending to use him as a slave to clean and cook, but a day later the roving band of savages met their end at the hands of the Sorcerer-Exiles.

They took in the Gray Elf, who displayed an affinity for the Art, and raised him, helping him to study what few of his parents' magical writings that weren't destroyed by the goblinoids. The Sorcerer-Exiles could only help him so much, as they did not boast a Wizard amongst their number: they are all spontaneous casters, such as Sorcerers and Bards. Mugen is now an adventurer, who seeks nothing more (as of yet) then to continue his parents' work traveling abroad seeking out arcane secrets thought lost to Time.

I also heard a little bit about Humphrey's character, a Half-Elf Ranger. In the north-western parts of Okar Nu'goth bordering the Southlands of Erisud and the south-eastern stretch of Ruan Ves'alah (The Land of Whispering Beauty) exists a brutal caste of Suderi humans: the Sebrildur, vicious racists that have been led to believe that the wood elves to the west are guilty of some ancient (probably false) crime. For generations they've led zealous attacks against elven villages, and most recently against a settlement that lay on the border of the human-elven lands.

They razed the village, brutally killing the elves and the "non-human lovers" that inhabited it. But one half-elven child, too human or too helpless to be slain, was taken as a prisoner. The Sebrildur burned away the points of his ears and during his sad, sorry childhood of cleaning up after the pigs, and doing the dirty work of the human camps, he was taught that elves, and anything associated with them, were evil and monstrous, and that their whole vile race was an affront to the gods and civilized folk. They taught the boy how best to hunt his distant kin, to recognize their tree-homes, their secret paths, to counter their fighting styles and military tactics.

The details of his escape have yet to be worked out (or told to me). More on him later.

Err...Erik's a paladin. Likely a Thayatosian from the Order of the Silver Chalice in Tharon, but who knows with Erik. All I've heard is that he's a paladin, and he's a human.

Thanks.

2009-05-22T00:09:00.003-07:00

Thank you Dusty, for attributing to me the only award that would have meant anything to me. (The Language Arts student of the month[s?] are also greatly appreciated.) Thanks for publicly praising me, despite your hatred for such large assemblies. A thought occurred to me that you may have had to go out of your way slightly to be able to deliver the speech anyway; last I heard Mr. Schmor was the Department Head and normally would have given out the award in a regular circumstance, so some sort of appeal had to have been made. Thanks for that as well.
Thank you also for inscribing the Holiest of Numbers and Answer to the Ultimate Question of the Universe: 42, next to your signature. That's incredibly cool.
And, perhaps most importantly, thanks for being my friend, helping me to think greater thoughts and find greater answers and truths about Life, the Universe, and Everything that I otherwise would not have found (or at the very least, would not have found in time to have been any use) alone, and providing general support when my pessimism had led me ever toward despair.

And so, trite as it may be, I must say: you're awesome.

Thanks again, man.

A bit of musing as I read.

2009-05-19T15:55:00.000-07:00

“The misanthrope of the naked intellect hates people straight down the line with no exceptions and no regrets. Regarding mankind as hopeless, he tends to be apolitical. Regarding mankind as loathsome, he tends to be an apolitical arch-conservative, a purely temperamental stance whose sole purpose is hands-off, apocalyptic revenge. ‘The life of a man is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short,’ he replies: ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’” (King, 57)

I think, given a choice in choice of misanthropic ideology, I’d like to be this sort of misanthrope. The kind that is purely his own, knows deep in his mind, heart and soul, that humans are awful creatures, and to relish in their suffering. He needs no one, for he accepts that there is no one acceptable.

Unfortunately, I think I might lean toward the other misanthropic manifestation: the tender misanthrope. The tender misanthrope is described as despising humanity in general, but contrary to the naked intellect variety, he is “ever ready to make an exception for the real people.” He feels that he could love the real people, if only he could find them. And, failing that, he need only change the false people into the idealized real people.

I detect a few similarities between my behavior and beliefs and that of the tender misanthrope, don’t you? Sure, I’ve always professed my hatred for people, but I still have friends, right? But hold on; for some reason I find these friends unacceptable. They don’t live up to my standards. They can’t escape the bonds of their human natures, and despite my greatest attempts to accept them, I still hate them like the rest of humanity. What must I do next then, provided I cannot accept them?

I try to change them. I try to direct them to adhere and behave as I believe people should, people that I wouldn’t hate. But does that ever work? Of course not. Because people suck, and they will continue to suck to the end of time, warranting my hatred for all except for the learned misanthropes that are too few and far between: elusive and reclusive in such a way that I will never find them, and they will never find me, and we’ll continue going on our not-so-merry ways, hating people alone and forcing ourselves into seclusion, awaiting word of bad news befalling the people we hate, that we may taste a drip of happiness at their misfortune.

But this, perhaps, is the proof that I belong in the first category of misanthropes. Although I tried to be a Class-2 misanthrope, I’ve realized that hope for the bastards is doomed. What few humans are acceptable are merely other misanthropes. So the question is: what do I do about this predicament?

Do I find a place to hide and wait, looking forward to the day that one of my own stumbles haphazardly into my grove, or temple, or library, or underground lair (or what have you)? Or do I go on a journey, becoming a sojourner in search of one of my own kind, that we may establish a little coven of shared hatred for the greater institutions of loathsome people? I don’t think either is likely to work out, so perhaps I’d best play it safe and keep to my own company (or lack thereof).

Work Cited:
King, Florence. "With Charity Towards None: A Fond Look at Misanthropy." New York: St. Martin’s. 1992: 57-8.

Why has the universe constructed me so?

2009-05-18T06:43:00.000-07:00

I have come to a conclusion regarding my peers. All of them; without exception, as of yet.

I hate them.

There is no more avoiding it. I hate them all. I might hate them in big ways, or in small ones. But the undeniable truth is that I hate them. Even the closest friend of mine I have, I hate in so many ways.
The source of my hate is often conflict. On major ideas and beliefs I seem to find a way to contradict everyone. None of my peers are like me: Those that I agree with on the topic of drugs have a different take on the topic of sex (what we teach children about it, for example.) Those that agree with me on the topic of sex argue with me about religion. Those who agree with me on religion will have a different take on justice. And so it goes.
Of course, I hate my peers for other reasons, too. Immaturity, terrible awkward lack of sociability (those without basic respect or manners, basically. I refer to those who don't understand how to interact properly with others as well.) drug habits, hatred of reading, etc. The list goes on.

My question is why isn't there someone I can exist with without conflict, and by extension, hatred? Why am I such a strange blend of emotions and beliefs that I cannot peacefully interact with any of my peers for any length of time? (When I say peacefully, I don't just mean social interaction. I mean emotional peace as well. I usually treat everyone decently, even when I am feeling incredible hate towards them.) Everyone seems to have someone, some match, where they can find peace, acceptance, and agreement. I don't have that. I have strife. Is it only me? Am I the cause of chaos and hateful feelings? There's no logical indication to otherwise. Why else would others find places of serenity where hatred does not encroach?

I do not know.

But I do know that I intend to extricate myself from the presence of my peers whenever possible. It is not for their benefit that I do so: I'm just sick of hating.

Forked Tongues and Shadows

2009-05-17T22:27:00.001-07:00

Well, Demitri has proved disloyal, and so I've let him go. Like many lost friends before him, he tried marijuana, then took steps to conceal it from me. I don't approve of the act, nor the lying involved with keeping it a secret.

I value loyalty above all in my friends. But teenagers, it would seem, are incapable of such a feat.

So be it. I've learned to play the lonely man.

Isn't Scotland great sometimes?

2009-05-14T17:38:00.000-07:00

My Scottish friend and I were having a chat about proper English, and using it no matter where you might be writing, and she told me a story of a boy in her school who wrote an entire paper in internet shorthand (I.E. wen dey tlk lyk dis) and was expelled for it. Isn't that great? That'd be a fucking lawsuit here, but they know how to handle jerks over there! Ha.

Struggle breeds grief.

2009-05-06T13:52:00.000-07:00

An incredibly cynical and depressive piece of writing from a while ago:

The author of "The Butterfly Parable" demonstrated an example that supported the concept of strength through struggle. The story goes that a man finds a butterfly still in its cocoon and uses scissors to free it. Lo and behold, the butterfly is pathetic and can't fly. Struggling out of the little cocoon forces the fluid from its body into its wings, making the creature flight worthy. The author attempted to persuade us to believe that without struggle we are not living up to our full potentials, and that conflict helps us to develop ourselves and our abilities.

The concept, at the most basic level, is true. Struggle elevates us physically, intellectually, and emotionally. I have little to say regarding physical struggle. The effects of physical struggle are obvious: you become physically stronger. My argument lies solely with intellectual and emotional struggle.

I don't know if personal growth with regards to intellect and emotional maturity actually help us. Depending on the situation, they may actually weaken us. I, as a person, am a lesser being of weaker character because of my intellect and developed emotional sensitivity.

Over the past year I've undergone multiple emotional upheavals: I've lost best friends, dear companions, my first love, and even the respect of and for my parents. These struggles have allowed me to greatly expand my emotional empathy and sensitivity: I understand how people feel, how they think, and how they justify their actions. Because I can see the emotional side of words and actions I am more easily hurt than I ever was before.

I used to be a cool, resolute character. I would never cry, never become heated or angry. I was simpler before. I was never offended, insulted, or hurt. But my new found emotional affinity has broken my shield of ignorance. I can sense the shame in my parents' voice, the expressions and gestures of my dear friend Demitri speaks volumes of his distaste for some of my preferences, his disgust. I weep for these things now.

It is common knowledge that I am well-read. My experiences paired with my cynical and pessimistic outlook on life, gifted to me by my reading, have lain me low. At present I have examined my depressing life, and came to the conclusion that I do not deserve friends. My justification was the evidence of my past behavior: I have been angry, callous, cruel, insulting, and abusive as a friend. When I've hurt the feelings of a friend I've become offended and angry that they were responding so emotionally. Not only that, but I have taken advantage of my friends' ignorance or emotional attachment to my own ends. Because of my vile actions and behaviors I have stopped seeing my friends; stopped talking to them, or eating lunch with them. They've been excommunicated.

And the cause for this seemingly hasty actions? My personal growth and developed character. Over a year ago I never would've realized my folly or recognized how often my friends seek to harm me. (Often with insults or treachery.) Only my emotional sensitivity, newly developed, allows them to hurt and depress me. Without all those struggles and personal growth I would be ignorant, but happy. I would still have friends, and a loving family.

So herein we find the conflict. Is struggle, and all the growth it brings, a boon or a bane to us? (Or me, at the very least.) My experiences lead me to believe that I have been greatly weakened by struggle, by experiencing pain and loss and poor treatment. My life was not improved by greater knowledge and ability. I have no friends, no loving family, no supportive companions. I have my sadness, my remorse, and my heightened morality. I have found what I think to be right and just, but struggle has brought me anything but happiness.

I believe ignorance really is bliss. This personal growth, wrought of struggle and experience, is not worth the wisdom it grants, for it comes at too high a price. Depression, pain, and cynicism, although justified, are not preferable to the happiness born of simplicity, before struggle. Struggle has not brought me strength or improved life; it has brought me to ruin.

I believe I've done right.

2009-04-26T20:41:00.000-07:00

I stopped and tried to look at the things in my life that depress me. I realized that a great deal of my depression was rooted in one of my best friends. So, logically, I've stopped hanging out with them. Lo and behold, I haven't cried in a week. Amazing. I think, at long lost, I've done something right by myself. Or maybe this is an emotional catastrophe waiting to happen, and the depressive tidal wave that's building has yet to wash over me.

We'll see.

This is our last good bye, and very soon it will be over.

2009-04-20T00:12:00.000-07:00

"I guess we drifted off in separate ways.
I don't have all that far to go.
God knows I've learned to play the lonely man.
I've never felt so low in all my life.
We were born to be just losers."

"Love Me Like There's No Tomorrow" by Freddie Mercury

We Will See...

2009-04-16T13:20:00.000-07:00

Well, it has been demanded by the Philosopher King that the Philosophy Club be grabbed by the reins and steered in a new direction. The Crown of Thought seems to think that we should only discuss and argue topics that direcly pertain to school topics. He thinks that we have to actually "do something" and "make a difference" at the school.

This lowly Scribe disagrees.

I find that Philosophy Club is for its members, not for the greater populace of the students at the school. I don't attend to argue budgeting, or tardy policies, or scheduling. That's politics and I honestly don't give a damn. I go to Philosophy Club meetings to discuss ideas that would benefit the human race and society as a whole, not to bicker about the best way to punish schoolchildren for their lateness. My mind and spirit are often invigorated and filled with a sense of justice by the end of our meetings. Yesterday I was left empty and bitter, in both respects, and the senseless discussion left a bitter taste in my mouth.

If I have anything to say about it, the Philosophy Club will return to its lofty discussions, even the ephemeral talks about immortality and superheroes. I want to think about possibilities, and impossibilities, and feel like I've mapped out part of my soul by the end of our meetings. I don't want to fill my head with the school's bull-shit way of doing things.

I'll try to make my case, and if everyone would rather discuss the politics of the school, then so be it; I'll take my ideas elsewhere.

Eyes That See Only Red

2009-04-09T22:24:00.000-07:00

This is an entry from a journal of mine. I felt rather proud of it, so I figured I'd post it.

The pace that I seem to be maturing is astounding me. Thoughts and writings, even seemingly recent, are in a mood and taste that feels years past. I only noticed this day because of a discussion in Citizenship class. The topic was the rights of juveniles, and we were talking about if it is right to execute juveniles. I, however, maintained the argument that we should not execute anyone, regardless of age.

My peers, these children, were possessed of such fury and fervor, it was astounding. They argued that we should execute murderers, and rapists, and what have you because it's "right" and "they deserve it." Their justification for the child-murderer (murderer who was, himself, a child) was "it's common sense. He should know better, and understand the implications."

These children are, as most children will be, flawed in their thinking. They themselves, just like the child-murderer, cannot see the ramifications of their actions. They cannot see past their immediate emotions and desire for blood anymore than the child-murderer can. They do not have the right or prerogative to deny anyone life, even those who deny life to others. They cannot understand that it is not right in any circumstance. And if we transgress this idea, yielding to what we believe is wrong, possibly the highest wrongness in the land, then we cross a line into the darkness we oppose.

Americans seem to think prison is entirely vengeance and punishment based; it shouldn't be. The Justice system should be about correctional treatment. To fix those who are not in the right. And the system, as is, cannot achieve that, quite possibly due to this barbaric view of Justice. And despite my explaining that we, as a government, can not deny anyone the right to life, they insist we should anyway.

I used to be just as foolish and excitable and angry as those bloodthirsty children, but I see now that power must be used sparingly, if at all, and that Justice, in its pure, true form, is supposed to be serene and good, and be a force that guides us to the path of goodness and righteousness, a state of perpetual correctness and peace. It should not be made into a fearsome, wrathful weapon of anger, spite, and vengeance. That shall only lead us downward, in a spiraling darkness that ends in some violent despotic place where one must fear for his safety, lest the powers at be destroy him for his disobediance.

We lock up people for drug addiction; this is not right. Yes, they should be prosecuted, fined and then sent to a correctional facility: rehabilitation. Prison for such crimes do not fix anyone. Only violent crimes should require anyone to be locked away: for the sake of our own safety.

"But the druggies end up mugging and killing for drug money or drugs!" they say.

Then lock them up for their violent crimes, not their drug possession. Prison for drugs, or embezzlement, or tax evasion are all just a show of force, of wrath and vengeance: obey us, the government, the power, or terrible things will happen. Fear.

It isn't right, and so long as I draw breath I will oppose those who yell out and call for blood, and life, and time: vengeance in its myriad forms.

We need to be a people of goodness, civilization, and justice.

Let those old ways die.

Entropy; Death and Decay

2009-04-09T07:48:00.000-07:00

Firstly, forgive several problems regarding the following text: forgive the contents of the paper seeming a little extreme. When you write a paper you have to stick to your topic and your view, so I blew it up a little. Also, some of this could probably be cut out to give the reader a bit more room to think. But I'll fix it later.

William Raspberry believes that the critics of America's public schools should spend a semester teaching in one. He challenges readers to think of what they would teach if they spent his proposed semester teaching a class. He would teach English to younger children, and though I agree that language is necessary, and I would spend some time with it, I feel I would need to spend far more time focusing on philosophy, particularly morality and ethics.

I would not want to spend my semester with younger children, as he would. The problem I wish to address, corruption and decaying social values, do not exist to such an extent in the minds of the relatively young. I would want to teach high schoolers, particularly juniors and seniors. Higher thinking abilities are necessary if my teaching would be taken seriously or properly absorbed.

Not only that, but I think the teenage demographic is the greatest form of moral entropy, or manifestation of it, in this country. Most teenagers I interact with are ignorant, shallow, law-breaking, selfish, destructive, animalistic, acerebral anglophiles. They pickle their brains drinking or smoking, ignoring school, and setting themselves and, by extension, our society up for failure. It is almost as if they are heartless beasts. They don't care for others, for injustice, for the greater good, and evil abound. They only care about making it through the week so they can go party, and deface the hope today's society has for them. Obviously, not all teenagers are like this, otherwise I'd be condemning myself as well, but you can understand my view, however cynical it may seem.

There are signs that show what direction our youth are drifting in. Reading, for example, is a dwindling activity. To them, reading is laughable. Many teenagers see it as a waste of time, something they only have to do in school. They don't understand reading helps to develop one's thoughts, beliefs, dreams, and overall character.

In a classroom, I'd try to first turn them to thought. I'd have them discuss philosophical ideas, like issues of right and wrong, justice versus vengeance, bad versus evil, and the like. After they've developed at least a minor affinity for deeper thinking, I'd try to get them to read and understand some essays that argue the same issues we'd discussed in class. I'm wary of some parents thinking that I'm teaching religion, but obviously I wouldn't be. I mean only to attempt to cleanse some of the factors contributing to the general degeneration of society. I would not be pushing any particular religion.

If I could teach them to argue, which would give them the ability to give deeper thought to the actions and behaviors of themselves and their fears, I might be able to convince some of them to take wiser paths and adapt some healthy beliefs and behaviors. So many of them do not even treat others, even complete strangers, with the basic respect everyone deserves. It is almost as if they are uncivilized. Moving their mindsets and abilities beyond that of simplistic quarreling may do that respect issue some good.

I wonder if I'm wrong in my speculation; is this only a phase? Will they develop better habits, behaviors, and traits that will enable them to be wise, intelligent, functioning adults in an increasingly dark society? One can only hope. My fear is that cherished things like bookstores and libraries will be allowed to die away whilst liquor stores and gun shops thrive and expand until our foolish ways destroy us. I think that if society believes ethics, morality, and general philosophy be formally taught in a widespread manner than perhaps we can preserve the image of a golden, civilized age.

Unfortunately, we have not bred such an honorable generation. This one seems content to be ignorant, disrespectful, and brutish. Perhaps we writers, poets, artists, and thinkers will be crushed underfoot and swept away by this tide of belligerence. I can hardly see a place for them to shine amongst the darkness and ruin sure to come.

After all this speculation, I begin to wonder if anyone can merely walk in and fix these failing schools. Perhaps all of these children and their futures are doomed to a cursed, dark existence of violence and stupidity. I don't know if I'd even like to try to teach them otherwise. Do you think anyone like me could do any better to teach them than the powers already in place?

Good man...Mostly.

2009-04-06T17:13:00.000-07:00

There is this pretty good video blogger on youtube called The Amazing Atheist. He has some negative aspects, like everyone, but he effectively entertained me for about an hour.

Again, some times he complains a little unnecessarily, but that's what youtube is for, right?

He defends the spork.

And that's good enough for me.

Also, he tells idiots what's what.

This picture is a pretty good summary of some of his ranting... only he points out more evil, like religion inspired war and the like.

I cannot wait.

2009-04-01T12:20:00.000-07:00

To be done with this place. Every couple of days, this place causes pangs of pain and sadness in my heart, and I don't want to have to be hit by it all the time. I don't like the hopelessness it inflicts, the sense of worthlessness and shame...I don't want it.

I want to be away from here, and from him, and I want only to heal and be happy.

Why is that so hard for me?

M'yes.

2009-03-29T16:44:00.000-07:00

I was looking over my profile, and I was sick of that random question they gave me. I got a new one over and over until I found one with potential. "Write a national anthem that uses an animal sound at least once." Here is the new National Anthem for the Land of Durotar: The Orcish Nation in Kalimdor.

"Durotar, Durotar, we raise our blades to thee.
Your dusty cairnes and red canyons, and Bladefist Bay: The Sea.
We'd never let those oinking Quillboars keep you,
nor those pink-skins build upon your shores.
We'll kill them all, build Orgrimmar, for the land that we adore."

So if you ever play an Orc in World of Warcraft, or some game based in the Warcraft Universe, be sure to sing it, or at least yell it. It was written by Orcs, in theory, so be as loud and without rhythm or tune as you like. Bang some things together, preferably metal like pots and pans. It's all in the Orcish spirit.

Rage aplenty!

2009-03-19T03:40:00.000-07:00

I can't fucking stand it. It's 3:41 AM on a school night. All I can do to keep myself from blowing up on some innocent inanimate object is singing and typing. Already I've pummeled my leg, several tables, and the desk I now sit at. That's right; I, the pacifistic, calm man, am so entirely enraged that I've resorted to hitting things, like some brutish monkey. Hell, I even hurled something across the room. I've stormed from the house, well down the street, before I was forced to sit and cry, accompanying the cacophony with inquisitive wails: "Why the fuck? Why go through so much effort just to fucking...agh."

I'll try to put it into anonymous enough context.

Imagine that you don't much care for sandwiches (Hard, I know, but roll with it.) Your friends, however, quite enjoy sandwiches. They invite you to the other room for some delicious sandwiches, but you decline. The leave for a time, but return shortly, begging you to join them. They try everything. They assure you that you'll like these sandwiches, that perhaps you hate all the other sandwiches in the world, but these ones, to be eaten with your friends, will be quite different.

So, you agree that, with them, you'll eat one-half of a sandwich. They agree to the same terms. Everyone eats half a sandwich.

Now, after you've gone with them and enjoyed your sandwich (hey, it wasn't that bad, after all.) they sit you down, and start going to town on sandwiches. Like, four sandwiches each. Not only is it somewhat disgusting, but they've lied to you. It fucking sucks. And instead of accommodating you, saying "You may wanna leave. We're gonna eat a shit-ton of sandwiches," they just start scarfing 'em down right there. They're so aggressive that they're pulling the fucking table-cloth off the table. It's ridiculous. So you storm off, angry with them for such a trick, for putting so much effort into getting you out there just to rub something that will piss you the fuck off in your face.

Please excuse the bad analogy/story. It's 4 A.M. now, and I'm pissed as all hell. I've quite literally NEVER been so angry in my life.

The point being, my friends are total ass-holes, and I don't know if I'll tolerate this one. I really just want to destroy something. Anything. I don't even care. I'll kick the shit out of a plastic cup and a ceiling fan. Anything that would be tossed my way. Oh, well. I can't sleep, I have school tomorrow, and I'm basically fucked. My two best friends aren't worth talking to or even associating with, and all I want to do is be alone to yell, cry, and hurt things. Why the fuck do all my friends do stuff to hurt me? I am that much of a jerk? I mean, I know I can be snarky and have a bit of a superiority complex, but do you have to go about it this way? You can't just say "Hey, man, you've been annoying me a lot recently. Let's take a break, shall we?"

No. They have to exclude, shun, betray, and rub some of my greatest desire in my fucking face, and destroy any semblance of self-respect I had managed to build up after the Kenny incident.

What makes it worse? I came out to my parents yesterday. Mom seemed mad, Ian was awkward as fuck, but still managed to slip in how part of him is sad about how I'll never be a parent and experience all the joy and sense of achievement he has. Fuck them. Ass-holes. Now I have nobody close to defend me. All I can do is be a fucking child, and cry alone, throwing my lame-ass temper tantrum.

"Now the wind has lost my sail,
Now the scent has left my trail.
Who will find me,
Take care and side with me?
Guide me back
Safely to my home,
Where I belong...
Once more.
Where is my star in heaven's bough,
Where is my strength, I need it now?"

So...fucking...stupid.

2009-03-12T14:55:00.000-07:00

I have no idea how things get away from me so easily. As shown by much of my writing and conversation, I keep track of things, and notice events, changes, and the state of myself in general.

So how the fuck did romantic feelings and affections sneak up on me all of the sudden?

Now I'm in a terrible situation. I care for, and desire, someone who can never possibly feel the same way about me. It's fucking gay guy 'rule number 1', and I've transgressed that sacred law.

Don't go for straight guys.

It's been pointed out to me that I've reacted strangely to certain acts and behaviors of one of my friends. It honestly hadn't occurred to me until I was shown that I reacted in ways that would reflect deeper affection, maybe even love. Realizing that, and applying it to some of my actions in the past, I have cast myself in a darker light.

Have I manipulated this person subconsciously to satiate my desire for them? I must've. I've wormed my way into a scenario in which I'm allowed to sleep next to, cuddle on, even shower with, this straight guy who allows it and doesn't mind simply because we're such good friends. He allows it because the affection, to him, is merely a friendly sort of thing. Non-sexual. Just the fact that I'm the closest friend he's ever had allows me to do such things.

The problem, of course, is that I've let different emotions leak into that, like my desire, and romantic affection.

Now I'm paying the price. I wound myself with dark thoughts, guilty thoughts; lonely ones, too.

I want to slap myself silly. It'd be cool if I could go into the past or future and beat the shit out of, and be beaten by, a past or future version of myself. The idiot(s). I/they deserve a good thrashing. They/I need to become a little more realistic, and stop being a naive, ridiculous bitch. Bastard(s).

Unintended effects.

2009-02-27T14:23:00.000-08:00

So today was the blood drive. I, like many of my peers, signed up to do a good thing, although most simply did it to add a bit of interest into their boring lives. Still, that it was something interesting AND it helps people is excellent.

Anyway, on with the story. I was signed up to give blood at 10:30 this morning. I got my little notice, went to the library, confirmed my age, was given a sticker and a manual, and told to sit and read. I read the manual, and found, due to their rules, I was unable to give blood. Normally, one would shrug, apologize for the inconvenience, leave, and think nothing of it ever again.

If you've read my profile description, you should know I can overanalyze stupid stuff. This is one of those things. Even though I know it's for the safety of others, I still feel wounded/offended by the rules. Because I'm not allowed to give blood, I am assailed by possible insinuations one could take from the rules.

Like, perhaps, that I am an inferior creature. Someone who's blood is not good enough to be taken. A detriment to life, not a boon to it. Something to be frowned upon, or shooed away, like some pest. Perhaps a stray animal. A threat to the lives of the innocent? A villain, even? I don't know. Anyway, I've been a bit sad and shameful of the whole affair all day long. I know that's not the point of the rules. They are there to protect the health and safety of patients who might receive my blood.

But the rules have their unintended effects upon one who is overly sensitive or too deep-thinking, like myself.

Lucky pure-bloods.

The rest of that day went no better.

2009-02-21T19:23:00.000-08:00

After my last post I went to the park, where I could read and be alone.

I sent my tale to my father, all of it, before I left my house, and he expressed his sympathy and acceptance of course. He'd made it clear years ago that I could do no wrong in his eyes, and he'd love me whether I was gay, homeless, a drug addict or a murderer. He's a psychologist, though, and he thinks I'm clinically depressed. Said two months is a pretty rough ride.

Like I said, I was at the park, and he tried to call me but I didn't want to cry in public. I really don't like doing that, so I just talked to him via text for a while. Later I went to James' place and watched a movie, and then Kimberly invited me to hang out with her and all the others (Tia, Steven, Caleb, Nikita, Demitri, blue-haired Alex, I think). Kimberly said Tia wouldn't get her, so I said I would if she couldn't catch a ride from Caleb.

She ended up getting Tia to get her; I had decided (because the plan had changed about 5 times) that they either didn't want Kimberly to come or me to come. One or the other. I took the safe bet and drove home. I was fixing a light dinner when Steven and Demi came to get Kimberly. They begged me to go, but I had just pulled my dinner out of the microwave, and waved them off on the count that I didn't want to bring it with. (It was fried chicken. I easily could have, but it was a convenient excuse.)

After they left my depression from earlier returned in full. I cried a little in the bathroom, and maintained enough composure to flee the house entirely. I hollered that I was walking to Red Apple. I lied. I walked to the river, and lay on that bench to weep for an hour. During that time they begged me to come some more, mostly Steven and Tia, though Kimberly asked more too. I eventually got too cold and hungry, so I left and walked to Muchas Gracias.

There were lots of people there. The patrons included the cast and crew from Secret Garden at school. They were quite excited (the ones I knew) to see me, so I hung out with them until about ten at night. That was the highlight of the day.

I returned home, where everyone was asleep, and was left alone, thankfully.

Anyway, that's part 2 of the day, if anyone's interested.

"Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten-- In folly ripe, in reason rotten."

2009-02-20T14:37:00.000-08:00

My failings have reached an all-time high. Today, at roughly 11 o'clock we had a fire drill. Being someone who imagines bad scenarios, the anxiety of running into someone I really didn't want to see immediately consumed my mind. Sure enough, whilst walking with Shelby, I am forced to slow down to navigate through a little funnel of a path between some big-ass pipe and a fence...I look behind me, to make sure Shelby would make it through all right, and, of course, Kenny is right behind me.

Again, I heard him speak, saw him move, all the things that, when unexpected, break through my mental resolve. I could barely contain my tears for the rest of second period; cried silently in the library throughout lunch, and cried on and off throughout third period. I was all right for a good deal of it, but Mrs. Sipe tried to get me to read "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love", whilst a female was to respond with "The Nymph's Reply to The Shepherd"...You know, where the Shepherd tries to woo the fair lady to be his love, and is rejected over and over and over...

All I could do was shake my head at her request and put my head down to hide my shame. She didn't really notice my head-shake, so Marcus explained that I had declined her request. I cried silently while we went over the poem, though no one saw, because I sit at the front of the room. After class I bought a drink at Safeway, cried on the way home, but halted when I arrived, long enough that I may slip past Justin's mother, my aunt Callie, unhindered. I immediately went to the shower and wept until there was no more hot water to sustain my sanctuary.

Why can't I control myself? How does he affect me so? I don't know. The point is, it happened, and it shouldn't have.

I can't handle myself.

Oh, the possibilities!

2009-02-13T15:36:00.000-08:00

Very interesting things in the Amber Diceless Roleplaying Game sourcebook. It's very open-ended, you see. Of course there are rules, but it's quite a bit more open ended than D&D. (Not bashing on D&D, I love the game. I'm just pointing out the amount of difficulty trying to play a D&D God Campaign versus playing an Amber game.) Also, mats and miniatures aren't used as standard in Amber. You could use them, of course, but they're not as necessary because there aren't as many Amber combat rules or circumstancial bonuses and penalties as D&D. It's merely rank vs. circumstances (good roleplaying and description, tactics, etc.) and "stuff". (Stuff is essentially luck influencing things. When you create your character you get a certain amount of points to spend. If you don't spend them all, you can turn them in for good stuff. If you overspend, you get bad stuff. GM hands out chance as such. Bad things happen to people with bad stuff, good things to the goodly stuffed people.)

I also love the humongous multitude of possibilities regarding use of Powers. Take this passage for example:

"Don't assume there is one best way to use any of your Attributes or Powers. There is an infinite range of possibilities. In play-testing no two players have ever used Shape-Shifting in exactly the same way. In fact, when people from different campaigns meet each other, they're often astonished at what others can accomplish with exactly the same powers."

Very cool.

Another funny idea and way of looking at things:
"Remember when you were just a little tyke, and all the adults were giants? It seemed like Mommy and Daddy were [as] god, all-knowing, all-seeing, and all-powerful.
Your character's relationship with the Elder Amberites should be something like that.
Only it should be more like this. Your character is a high school senior. A bright kid, maybe good at some things. Maybe a star athlete, a chess player, or math wiz.
Imagine your high school character is suddenly sent to summer school at the most prestigious university in the world. One where four star generals teach history, and presidents and prime ministers teach political science. Gold-star olympic athletes coach the sports teams, Nobel prize winning scientists are laboratory instructors, and you learn English from the best writers in the world.
Do you think you would be, shall we say, intimidated?
The difference between your character and an Amberite is even greater."

Hot damn, I love to hear that. I don't know if any other Game Masters out there have this problem, but my PC's are always rude, self-assured, haughty bastards who believe they are all-powerful, and constantly ruin shit. They rape, murder, and just cause destruction. (I can honestly say we've burnt down or blown up at least five inns or bars in D&D. It's awful. I like the idea of having some uber badasses around to cow my PC's into more reasonable behavior.

I know I should have just invented such characters in my old game, but why deny my PC's what they enjoyed so much? (Even if it didn't directly correspond with my plans. I always subtly forced them into my adventure anyway, it's just it took a while, with lots of crime along the way.) Anyway, the Elder Amberites are an integral part of the Amber Universe, so there's no sidestepping them. We'll see how PC's fare now! (Although these will be completely different players, for the most part. Maybe Justin or one of the Bartleys might join me from my old playgroup.)

One more cool thing about the Elder Amberites before I go get me some coffee and relax on my kitchen floor:

"Elder Amberites have one important soft spot. They are suckers for young, helpless, and vulnerable relatives. They know their siblings, all the other sons and daughters of Oberon, are cynical, jaded, and pushy. They don't trust their siblings.
Each elder Amberite thinks that other elder Amberites are likely to take advantage of the youngsters, the player characters. They feel protective, plus, they like foiling the plans of their equals.
This is something each player character can use.
A couple of years ago, in the first Amber Campaign, a group of players finally reunited with their long-lost father, Corwin. It didn't seem to faze them that the Game Master had described their father, Corwin, as worn, tired, and battle weary.
Each player had a million questions, and even more problems. They asked questions, brought up old quarrels and grievances for "dad" to arbitrate, asked for power and assistance, and generally complained about the state of the universe.
Then the last of their group arrived. They player's character threw himself at his father, hugged him, and started crying. I missed you so much, he said, and I worried that I'd never get another chance to tell you how much I love you. It was a pretty dirty tactic. Corwin, worn and frazzled and tired, was a sucker for this kind of attention. The late-comer had brought out the "father" side of Corwin by being more of a son than an Amberite. And Corwin, naturally, looked upon the rest of his children coldly, seeing them to be acting suspiciously like the brothers he mistrusted."

Brilliant.

How should I go about this?

2009-02-11T20:59:00.000-08:00

I have been asked to write a villain paper. This one should be fun, and I've wanted to write this one for a while. (I realize I could have written it before I actually had the assignment in years past, but I haven't.)
I want to write it about Brand. He is the main antagonist (in the grand scheme of things) of the original Amber series by Roger Zelazny. Is this a good idea? Is there enough information regarding Brand in the original series that I could accurately write a paper from his point of view? I know he's insane, but I'd like to write the paper in a way that makes him look like less of a villain. One that indicates he had some good motives, just a skewed view of things. Any suggestions? Which part of his life should my paper detail? It can only be about four pages, double spaced, by Lady Sipe's specifications.
So again, if you've any idea whom I'm talking about, some suggestions would definitely be welcome.

Here here!

2009-02-11T19:20:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again. Nay, not the season of love (fuck that shit), but it's Coffee Day! The day we all give homage to the Patron Saint of Coffee, who then directs you to pay homage to the Universe that gave us coffee. I think this year's Coffee Day went considerably well then last year's. Today during lunch I went into Humphrey's room with a party horn in my mouth and many confetti poppers in my pockets. Last year me and Justin brewed a shit-load of coffee for Coffee Day, and got sick from drinking it all at school. I also spilled a little in my backpack. All my notebooks looked rediculous from then on, and my backpack had a smell remaniscent of syrup. Anyway, hope everyone had a good one. And Happy Birthday, Tom. You're blessed to have been born on the 42nd Day of the Year.

"There never was much hope. Just a fool's hope, as I have been told."

2009-01-29T14:16:00.000-08:00

I am troubled. I've figured I could deal with it well enough, for I am made of tough stuff, mentally speaking. But my heart and mind have been plagued for a month and a half, and I don't know how best to deal with it. Throughout my life (which is not a very long one, mind you, so don't take that statement too heavily.) I have been able to rationalize most problems I've had in my life so that I was not adversely affected, emotionally. However, this time it is not so. My rationalization (as I see it) leads me always down a path of sadness and pessimism.

I have never been depressed before. Perhaps this is why I am having trouble with it at the moment. It is not a good thing, to be sure. I find less enjoyment in all things, I am unable to feel anger (although I felt it for the first time in over a month last week. It was a nice reprieve, but it passed all too quickly...) unable to find the joy and exhilaration of things I love, such as snowboarding or reading and writing. I still do those things, for they provide distraction from my turmoil, but they aren't what they can be.

I figured I'd be over my woes quickly, as I have always been able to do. Not so this time. It's been a month-and-a-half and I still have trouble finding sleep, I weep often despite my resolve, dignity, and pride, and dwell on things that I shouldn't. I hate myself for it. I also feel shame for not being able to find the hatred and anger I know I should be feeling; I drown only in sorrow. No feelings of heat, or red fury, the blazing experience I've known many times. I have known only sadness, cold loathing for myself, and doubt regarding my character.
I've tried to keep my problems to myself, but I thought perhaps writing a little bit about it may help me a little. If it doesn't help to change my feelings, it can at least help me better understand them. If I feel differently later, I'll be able to compare it to what I felt at the time of this writing, and hopefully gain a better knowledge of myself.

I am not sure if the bulk of my sadness lays with feelings of inadequacy or remorse; time will hopefully tell, but I've been hoping that for awhile now. Perhaps I should talk with someone else about it. I've confided in only one person thus far, and one cannot trust the perspective of only a singular being. Multiple views of it must be considered if I'm to seek a solution to my ailment. My theory for the simplest of remedies would be to know the truth of the events that have acted as catalyst for my descent into self-pity/loathing, but the one who holds those answers is both bitter and deceptive, not to mention reclusive; that shan't be my avenue of escape, it would seem.

I must apologize to whomever may be reading for my current behavior; I understand I have probably blown things out of proportion and have turned things to a very dramatic flavor, and I recognize that to be a terrible effect of my weakness. I also apologize for a lack of details. For those curious, I shall later describe my situation in greater detail, but I don't want to post that as what I believe as fact. If somebody chooses to discuss it with me, I'd be willing to share more, but I don't want to spread possible falsehoods that are as of yet, unconfirmed.

But I digress, for this writing is supposed to be a record that I can look to at a later date to be able to remember my feelings at this particular moment. Seemingly hopeless outlook, and despair at what I may be is a fairly accurate description, I think. I would like to expand on everything written here later, as I have work to do, thanks to the new semester. Perhaps it will occupy my mind and time enough that I can become tired and sleep for awhile. I shall think that will be nice.

I just found out.

2009-01-28T15:07:00.000-08:00

There's actually some poetry I enjoy. We read The Seafarer today in English. It's an ancient Anglo-Saxon poem, and I think it's amazing.

I hate to be childish.

2009-01-27T14:23:00.000-08:00

But sometimes it happens. We started the new semester today, and I dreaded it. Last semester I had quite a system worked out: I had kept good track of somebody that I'd like to avoid, knowing where they were coming from and going to throughout the day; that meant that I could easily choose a path in which I would not see them or come into any contact with them.
Today, however, is the new semester, and my schedule was moved all around, and so could that person's. So, naturally, I simply had to accidentally come face-to-face with them whilst I was going down "Humphrey's Hall" looking for Will, so I could give him a ride home.
This means, now, that I will have to leave Mrs. Sipe's room either out her door and around the library to get to my car, or immediately dip through that Nerd-ish hangout hallway that connects to the library's media center.
But anyway, I was deeply upset by my accidental run in with they-who-must-not-be-named because normally in the very few times I actually do have to see them, I am mentally prepared for it. My mental walls and resolution is only ever up heaved because of an unprepared interaction.
I fear that it will happen again, tomorrow, so I'm trying to keep my mind concentrated, and be wary; but the anxiety remains.
Fucking unpredictability of this system. Makes me slightly mad. (Mad as in daft, crazy, insane, off-my-rocker, etc.)

Why do people throw wisdom away?

2009-01-21T01:18:00.000-08:00

Okay, first let's clear something up: I like comparing the real world to the fantasy worlds I love. So try to take me seriously when I compare a real life problem, to a fantasy problem. I'll explain the connection as best I can along the way, but again. Try to take me seriously.
Okay...SO: Me and my friend Brad were discussing the use of drugs. He was pro (on the side of aderol and marijuana, as well as cigarettes), while I obviously took the side of con. He described the effects, and the boons and all that sort of dealio, and all the while I could only imagine the words dripping from the mouth of a Blood Elf. So here's where I dip into the fantasy world.
In Warcraft, there are basically two major breeds of Elf these days: Night Elf and Blood Elf. Originally there were just Night Elves, but after some terrible events, they were split between A) The wise night elves that only practiced druidic and religious magic and B) The Highborne Night Elves that practiced arcane magic (which had tore their land apart and nearly destroyed the world).
So they split, and the Highborne become High Elves and found their own kingdom where they are eternally drenched in arcane magic...the thing with arcane magic though, (and also with drugs, I believe) is that there are four rules that one should always remember regarding the stuff.
1) Magic is Powerful. (Drugs have uses.)
People report things like expanded mental capacity, calmed nerves, etc.
2) Magic is Corrupting. (Drugs have side-effects)
Magic corrupts the soul; if the humblest person in Azeroth became a practitioner of the arcane, by the time the practitioner reached the higher levels in their art, all traces of her humble roots would be lost. Magic breeds pride and arrogance. Magic corrupts the body; it ages the caster before their time and hastens the blight that the world inflicts on things fair and beautiful. Drugs can be seen as the same way. Simple, nice people can become raging, mad folk who will steal, fight, or harm others for their addictions...and the obvious similarities regarding aging the user.
3) Magic is an Addiction. (Duh)
When one feels the power of an arcane spell coursing through one's body as it's being cast, resisting the urge to cast it again is difficult. Frequent use leads to a desire for more and, eventually, to a desire for the evil fel energy. The same is with drugs...say cigarettes for example. Described as bringing calm to one's self. Using one makes you want another, with each use creating a more powerful desire for the next.
4) Magic attracts the Twisting Nether like Flies to Honey.
This one can be taken in several ways. First, you should know that the big castastrophe with magic? Its overuse attracted demons to the world, and banishing them creating the cataclysmic fuck-up. So the wise druids (as well as the three sane Dragon Aspects) said no more Arcane magic, because it draws demons and disaster.
These beings of the Nether can be of the obvious sort, other druggies who will ruin your life and the lives of those around you, for example, or just be any sort of misfortune, like being arrested and going to jail for a long time, or what have you.

The High Elves bathed in arcane magic for a good 9,000 years, and when it was taken from them by Arthas, they went into withdrawls and were led to find OTHER sources of magic, namely DEMONS and DEMONIC magic. They became the Blood Elves. When they give in too much to their addictions they become the Wretched, mutated elves who care only for their desires, so much so that it has warped their bodies into disgusting husks of what they once were.
Sound like Meth to anyone else?

So, in this situation, I feel that I am the Night Elf, he who has never partaken of drugs, nor alchohol, nor cigarettes or what have you. I argue on the side of reason, of caution, of safey and wisdom. But of course, Brad argues ever longer on the Blood Elf side, although he doesn't acknowledge that his ways are the same. He's described how the aderol makes him feel like he's full of energy, and overflowing power, how he could run 50 miles at 45 miles an hour and still be ready for more. But he also complained of how he didn't have any weed or cigarettes while we talked, and how it made him feel.
He is totally the Blood Elf.

So I tried to explain all the dangers, all the wisdom of one who has seen the folly before. (My dad's a smoking drinker, my grandfather a crazy-ass pot-smoking hippie, and my aunt a former drug addict [hard stuff, like meth] who had been imprisoned for years because of it, and also pawned off my grandmother's stuff to feed her addiction.) But, being the Sin'Dorei (blood elf), he maintained the defence that he was not addicted, that it wouldn't happen to him. During the conversation, he went and found himself some pot, the fool.

Anyway, if anyone else agrees with my seeing the scenario in this light, please express said opinion. If you're curious about what the hell I've been talking about, try www.wowwiki.com for a little extended reading. Just type in Elf or Night Elf, and the history should be pretty easily accessed. Sorry if this blog is sort of fragmented...It's 2 A.M. and I'm pretty tired whilst writing it. I'll probably return to it very soon to touch it up.

Nice quote.

2009-01-13T09:00:00.000-08:00

The sage does not hoard.
The more he helps others,
the more he benefits himself,
The more he gives to others,
the more he gets himself.
The Way of Heaven does one good
but never does one harm.
The Way of the sage
is to act but not to compete.
-Lao Tzu

Cursorary research on the man has shown me that he was was a philosopher of ancient China and is a central figure in Taoism, even revered as a God by many Taoists, referred to as one of the Three Pure Ones. Also, his name translates literally to 'Old Master.' He was also later granted the title "Supreme Mysterious and Primordial Emporer." Some argue that the Jade Emporer is the head deity of Taoism, but many support Lao Tzu and the Pure Ones as the patrons.

Anyway, I enjoy this quote, because it sort of inspires me to better my behavior, for today at least. I have always revered and admired beings viewed as "Sages" or other honorifics of wisdom. I generally view myself as a good person, and to see that some philosopher believes being good is part of being wise makes me feel a bit better about my ways. I'm not claiming to be a sage, by any means, but I would definitely aspire to be classified in such a way many years from now. As soon as someone else refers to me as such I'll use it as a title. Perhaps change my name to something cooler at the same time. I'll go from Christian Jahn, a fairly smart guy, to 'Sage Anthor' or 'Anthorial the Sage'.
I think Anthorial is a cool name. I made it up for a mage in my story. It's short for Anthorialexstrasz. He's a silver dragon who operates in a human guise, Anthor or Anthorial being his 'human' name. Nobody but his closest companions of the past knows of his true power, wisdom, race, or name.

But I digress. Taoism (Daoism) seems to be extremely cool. Very magely, it would seem. It describes the Dao (or Tao) as the mystical source and ideal of all existence: it is unseen, but not transcendent, immensely powerful yet supremely humble, being the root of all things. I'm not one for true religion, but some of Daoism points out some cool ideals, at least.

I rock.

2009-01-07T21:50:00.000-08:00

The presenting of my book was awesome. It's kinda lame that Justin wasn't prepared for his, but that little set-back for the family is, sadly, not enough to dissuade me from being excited about the whole event. My presentation went better then expected. I had created a crummy powerpoint, and written a lot on it, but for some reason it seemed a bit lacking to me. Nevertheless, when I got up to present I somehow managed to turn a bunch of possible blather about the direct contents of the book into a more coherent speech about the story elements, why I like them, and where the influence of said themes came from. It was bad ass. Felt like some big time author giving an interview, despite failing (in my mind). I didn't actually complete my book, FAR from it in fact, but I did put 32 hours and 40 minutes into a project, and that seems to be enough for President Bush to allow me to graduate.

Woot.

Also, I found out I'm the exact same height as Freddie Mercury: Five foot, nine-and-a-half inches. I know that the similarity actually means little, but I still feel just an ounce cooler because of it. I also found out from the same source this little bit of funny information:
"Loved his cats, and dedicated his solo-album "Mr. Bad Guy" to them. When he was out touring, he used to phone his cats and talk to them for hours. On one of his waistcoats, he has painted portraits of all of his cats."
That's great.

Junk.

2009-01-06T20:05:00.000-08:00

I've been pretty upset with Karma recently; Had a relationship, got cheated on and treated poorly, and it sucked ass. I've never cheated on anyone, mind you, I'm just getting hit for karma for staying with Kimberly for so long when I really wasn't all that into her. She simply had a purpose to serve.
But, thankfully, it seems I'm being gifted with a little more good fortune now that I've suffered for several weeks under the oppression of a poor choice in relationship; Someone I had been interested in at another time in the past is now seems to be seeking to possibly start dating. That's kind of cool.
I apologize for such a mundane subject, but I feel it should be noted that I'm feeling better about things now that I'm separated from that accursed neighbor of mine, perhaps I can start being optimistic like I had hoped.
Thanks Karma...but fuck you all the while...Just don't hit me with a car for that comment, if you'd be so kind.
On another note, my senior project is to be presented tomorrow. That's stressful. I don't know if my PowerPoint is good enough, or if 50 pages of writing (not a complete book, unfortunately) will be good enough to graduate. I figured that 50 pages of writing plus a notebook with my story notes in them is way more than most students could pull off, and that sort of sympathy might get me some pity points. Still, I intend to finish it and all, but I haven't managed to do it in the allotted time. I guess if I fail, I could take the class again, and just finish the book over the next few months...not something I want to do however. Especially cause I know I'd be there with Marcus again. That would blow.
Also, on new year's I watched the atomic clocks...sure enough, time-shitters came through and gave us an extra second this year? Did you enjoy it? I did...so sweet a second. In fact, if I could go back in time, I'd do something really cool during that second, something I could remember forever. Since they do it once every three years or so, I think I could keep a little scrapbook of pictures of what I did for each of my extra seconds.
But of course, I'm too lazy to. Nice thought though.
I enhanced by christmas/birthday this year, it should be noted. I inherited $600 bucks from Ian's dead mother (loved the old woman, mind you) and used it to buy Rock Band 2 and an Ipod, as well as three books (including the first wheel of time book. That's right Humphrey, I didn't forget to pick that one up.) So now I've got lots of reading to do, lots of writing to do, and plenty of time to do it.
Thanks again, Karma.

Sith names and Mercury.

2008-12-29T03:31:00.000-08:00

It's amazing that I'm so impressed every time, but I can't get over it: Freddie Mercury was a total badass. Most of time the time, I feel nothing but admiration for his awesomeness, but of course I must admit; I can get a bit jealous at times. I wish I had that sort of talent, or at least an opportunity to also be his sort of badass: The sort that is awesome, and knows it, and doesn't give a fuck about what other folk have to say about it. But alas, I don't think I'm destined to be a badass. My lot in life is to be the sort of person that one can enjoy from time to time, one with whom no one has any sort of problems with. People, I suspect, hear my name and think: "Oh that kid? He's cool I guess. Kind of quiet though." But what sort of social senses do I have? For all I know people could think I'm most likely to 'come to school in a trench-coat loaded to the brim with deadly weaponry.' But I don't think that's my image.
Not that my image matters. True, I'd like to be in control of it, if I could, but I'm not a very good actor. A 'Great Pretender' perhaps, but actors can convey feelings they don't feel. I think I'm just good at concealing feelings I have, not projecting non-existent ones. That would be cool though, to wield deception and illusion with the slightest of ease. But those are insidious thoughts, ones best left until the next time I get to play my evil characters in D&D.
But can you imagine? To have such control, to be the master of those around you because you can make them believe anything you want...very seductive idea, really, one every nerd has pondered. We're renowned for feeling helpless, and I don't feel that way, I've just thought about it when thinking about those sorts of very cool villains, like Emporer Palpatine. Lord Sidious is in complete control because nobody around him knows everything about him. They know what he wants them to know, thinks what he allows them to think, and it is very cool. Very evil, as well, but it's still fun to sort of daydream about what you could do with such talents.
Anybody else ever make up a 'Sith name'? I believe every nerd should have one, just in case they ever do manage to become some ultra-powerful villain, or are thrust into such a position from necessity. Some sort of identity to hide behind when doing the evil deeds you must. The persona I've invented has had sort of multiple stages. The original Sith name I thought of years ago was 'Darth Periurus'. Periurus was derived from the latin 'periurium' which was basically 'oath-breaking, or perjury'. Very evil name indeed. I think 'oath-breaker' is one of the original definitions for 'warlock' which, coincidentally, I play on WoW. Anyway, that name eventually fell into disuse, and I replaced it with 'Lord Turbatus'. Turbatus (latin again) which is really a step more toward my darker personality. It means "angry, exhasperated, troubled, or restless".
Anyway, Sith don't really need to have meaning, but I like things to have meaning so there you go. But I've heard of lots of cool Sith names. You end up seeing lots of them throughout the many forums manned by nerds on the internet. I downloaded a small novel called 'I, Palpatine' about, as the name suggests, Palpatine, written from his perspective. It describes how he came to political power as a Senator, as well as how he became a Sith Lord. It isn't exactly accurate as Darth Plagueis isn't the correct race as has been stated, but that's all trivial in the end. Anyway, the name of the person who gave it to me was Darth Groznii. Kind of cool sounding. A glancing google/wikipedia research has only told me that Groznii is the Romanian name for the city of Grozny, which is the capital of the Chechen Republic in Russia. So there you are, some names are relatively meaningless.
Anyway, it would seem I'm just blathering on about senseless...err...nonsense, so I should probably take this somewhere...
It was my dad's birthday today. He took me out to lunch, and said that it could be my present to him. He said I could tell people I took him to lunch. I like his humor, which is mostly sarcastic. We also saw "Yes Man" with Jim Carrey today. That guy's getting old, but I still like him. The movie was better than I expected. Most movies are, because I generally go in expecting very little, and am pleasantly surprised by just about anything. Anyway, it was pretty fun hanging out with Dad. We're gonna try to get some snowboarding in this week, but I don't know...my Explorer's 'check enginge' light came on last week, so it would really suck to get stuck in the snow in the mountains. I think I'll take it in and get it looked at before we go.
But these are very mundane concerns. They don't really occupy my mind a whole lot, and I'm not sure why I'm writing about them. Maybe I'm trying to avoid an issue that has been bugging me...I'll get around to it I suppose, but it's too late tonight.
Not that anyone is disappointed about my not writing about it except myself. I'll give it some time. I don't trust myself to be a good judge of the situation, so I'll with-hold my opinion about my current situation. But I digress!
Freddie is awesome, and I just found another song I need to put on my Itunes: Love me like there's no tomorrow. Yes, I know it's all too mundane and stereotypical of a teenager to admire a musician but screw it. He's too awesome to not mention SOMEWHERE in my writings.

The Solution!

2008-12-26T23:26:00.000-08:00

I've thought about it, and I've come to the conclusion: Fuck those guys. I've been childish to think I need human interaction to enjoy my time and be productive. There are way too many things to do to be bored, and I've been wholly ignorant to think that the only way I can be entertained, or feel good is in the presence of others. Nobody has to witness my greatness for it to be great, right? Right.
But, people are a lot of fun nonetheless. Today I agreed to play Risk with Justin. I didn't exactly want to play with just us; that's not very fun at all. So we turned to the Broglis. We would've played with all three of the good ones (Shelby, Jacob, and Daniel, in reverse abecedarian order. Also, to complain while I'm here, the automated dictionary on Firefox doesn't have abecedarian in it. But it has Firefox!) but Jacob was at his girlfriends. So we four just played without him.
I don't think I remember how to play Risk anymore. The rules aren't the problem, I've read four different manuals for different versions of the game. I've got that covered. I just can't remember how to WIN. I think, oddly enough, it has to do with the western hemisphere. The two power houses who emerged were Justin, Shelby, and myself. We all claimed a continent, (Jay got North America, Shelby south, and I Europe) except for Daniel, and he was consequently reduced to very little territories and power.
But, even with Europe boosting me, I was still far less powerful than Justin and Shelby, because I had too many damned borders to maintain, meaning I couldn't have any of the Asia/Australia pie Justin and Shelby claimed from Daniel.
So, if anyone ever reads this, they should tell me a good strategy.
But I digress. The main point of this is, that though I don't need people, they are still a natural boon to my mood and creativity. Daniel's strange spasmadic episodes of emotion have given me ideas to make characters in my writing a little more interesting, and so too has Justin's good-humored selfishness.
Ian doesn't really appreciate Justin's selfishness. When we played Risk with the family (Justin, Mom, Ian and I) Ian thought Justin's strength and ability to play the game well made him a jack-ass. I think he meant to say asshole, but jack-ass is what he said. I don't get it. I lost to Justin today horribly, and he won again, but it's easy to remember: It's the point of the game.
Why do people take it personally?
Again, I digress, but this blog is about the things occupying my mind, not anything in specific, so I guess I have the liberty to talk about anything I want, despite it's relativity to the perceived 'main point.'
Also, it should be mentioned, I hate this recliner. I can't find a damned comfortable position, and my neck is killing me. The mentionable part is I'm actually too lazy to move over to the couch. Maybe it's not laziness, just the fact that I don't trust that I'll be able to find a comfortable position anyway, but call it what you will.
On with the show; My father is coming to visit tomorrow. I've had mixed feelings regarding this, but I think I've resolved them. I didn't really want to go to California this year, as I hadn't exactly gotten through the whole 'reliance on friends' thing yet, so I was relieved to find that my flight had been canceled by the actions of the snow gods. The thing is, I still kind of want to see some of my friends during this nice little vacation, but I don't know if I'll be able to with my dad here. I would just invite a friend to go do stuff with us, but I don't know if I'll be 'crossing the line' or something. I mean, the guy payed hundreds of dollars on a plane ticket to see his son, not his son and his idiot friends, right?
Either way, I'm not sure what I'll do. I guess I'll improvise, think on my feet. What could possibly go wrong, after all? I'm sure he'll understand either way. The guy is a school psychologist, so understanding the thoughts and feelings of people my age is his job. Explaining things is mercifully easier thanks to that.
Another thing that has been occupying my thoughts, and thusly my time, is where I should look for a job after January. I know I'll have to work some bull-shit teenager job, like cleaning floors, making fast food, taking out the garbage, etc. (Grunt work, or as we Horde put it, peon work.) So, should I look for something in particular first, or should I just spam applications everywhere until I get results like it's the Trade Channel? (World of Warcraft reference number two.)
I think I need to get a cage for my cat...Every time I try to eat a bowl of cereal, she suddenly wants attention. She keeps forcing her feline face against my hands, attempting to pet herself, but the problem lies in the fact that those hands are holding a perilously perched body of milk. She also insists on laying on my keyboard when I am trying to either work or play video games. Is a cage inhumane? Is there a better way to deal with these pesky purring pests? (I like alliteration, or had you noticed?)
My room has been stolen from me. Jaimee and her fat friend Alexander have seized both my computer and my playstation 3 so that when one is shooting old ladies (GTA IV) the other can play senseless Flash games. I had half a mind to boot 'em both out, but I remembered my mom is gone, so that means I can waste time on her computer instead of my own. But still...should I get in their business? I am an 'adult' now, so I suppose I could play that card to get rid of them. But the cat is sleeping on me, and I honestly don't have the heart to destroy the fun I can hear those idiots having.
Either way, I think I've run out of useless content to fill this page with.
But I just remembered: Waffles are WAY better than pancakes. I think I'll make some.

An hour or two after waffles:
I just read something about the world's timekeepers (I'd say it's the Bronze Dragonflight, and that Nozdormu should really be on top of this.) the International Earth Rotation and Reference Systems Service is inserting a 'leap second' this year so our super-accurate atomic clocks can allow the Earth to catch up to our time. Apparently earth falls behind our clocks about 2 milliseconds per day. None of this really affects me much but it makes me wonder...
What'll happen when the people who give a shit about this whole time thing die? Okay, I understand that more people will grow and mature and start giving a shit to replace said people before, but what if they were all killed or something in some freaky time travel attempt (which could never work) and then our clocks start slowly falling behind because all the time-lovers keep blowing themselves up thinking they're going to the past when they're really vaporizing themselves? When we fall behind will it actually affect us, and then I, or some version of my brain saved to some awesome computer in the future, will be able to point and laugh at the article I just read and the children of the time-shitters? Or is this thought a complete waste of my time? Well honestly, it sounded a lot cooler in my head then on this medium of typed words, so sorry. Maybe I'll explain it in real life some day. Hell, I could be an honorary inductee to the time-shitters. (That's my new name for them. My dad would call them the 'time fags', if I know him at all well, but again, that's just an afterthought I just thought of, thusly it gets to go in this little reservoir of useless thoughts.)
Anyway, long story short, will our predictions of eclipses and the tides and things all go to hell when our time falls behind far enough? Because I think it'd be funny. Like eventually, we'd be so far ahead of time that it gets really hot in December, and snowey in August, and they'd find archaic artifacts or records of the past when it would be 'Snowing in December' and 'Scorching in the June-July months" and the future people would just laugh at us for being different (you know how people are) and the students of the future would be out of luck because there aren't any snow days near 'holiday vacation' and they would have their 'summer vacation' trips ruined by snow.
Well again, it was funny in my mind...

How does this happen?

2008-12-24T13:42:00.000-08:00

Not once in my life can I recall a time where I have become so pitiful? It's fucking Christmas, and already I've become some wretch wallowing in self-pity. I've never done this. I've never relied to people before. Always books and video games have been enough for me. Here's the thing:
Recently, my best friend has chosen to go against all we've openly stood against, and become some fool stoner bastard. Fine, I let him go. So, what does that mean? I have to replace him. All right, how hard can it be? I'm a likeable guy: not too ugly or offensive, capable of good humor and high spirits. But now, it would seem, I don't particularly have anyone to turn to. I attempted to replace Grant (how hard could that be?) with Demitri and Kenny, my closest friend from school, and my closest friend geographically (Kenny lives across the street.)
Well, normally I just hang out with friends to kill time. But now that they're both busy with the Christmas season and all, I find I have nothing to do. Sure I have THINGS to do, like work on my book, or get some reading out of the way, but for some reason I have only the desire to be in the presence of my friends. So cue entrance of self-pity; why am I so reliant all so suddenly on these friends?
Is it that perhaps some subtle emotional damage has been wrought at the loss of my best friend? I've not a clue. But I don't like it. I enjoyed my years of self-reliance.
What should I do? I'm not sure. But I think I shall hole-up in my room, and work. Work and work, till all the creative substance of my mind is drained, so that I may sleep well, and not despair at my current, pathetic state.
Yes, that is what I shall do.