Thinking about making another blog, just to recap the events of every day. Lately I’ve only used this one to vent negativity. And I don’t want it to turn into a diary. Will contain my life, so not always just bitching hah. Probably won’t be attached to this account. Dunno yet.
Go somewhere. Some place I like. I haven’t felt at home in years.
I’m not some big shot. I’m not a hero. I’m not a savior, or a prophet. Not yet.
What is it that I need to learn before I can go?
I haven’t even found what I want yet. It’s not airsoft. It’s not computers, perhaps.
It’s definitely not magic, and it’s certainly not other people. Can’t base happiness on others.
I like writing.
I think once I get some mechanical aptitude, I can just leave.
I think I’ve really become a simple person. I do what I like, and avoid what I dislike. Even if in the long run what I dislike would pay off. Should I say I shouldn’t change, because I am who I am? Hell no, of course I want change, I want to be a better person. Never be satisfied.
I’ve heard the saying “you are the best you”. Well, what if “you” are a loser? You’re still the best “you”, but that doesn’t mean you’re still not a piece of shit that doesn’t matter.
Really, you will never get it all. You don’t want it all. You’ve never GOT it. You’re always GETTING it. Find something to strive for. Something worthwhile, and not just some stupid hobby. What can you do to better yourself?
Or just dick around your whole life, say this is what you want. I did that. Or just say you’re gonna do something ambitious, and let old habits control you. I did that. Just say “what the fuck do you know, who do you think you are?” I’ve said that.
Waste precious time, do nothing constructive, have no drive, no goals, no dreams; better off dead.
I don’t like where my life is at right now. And if I want my life to change, I’m gonna have to change things in my life. No one else but myself can do this.
When I was a kid, I would only ever have one friend at a time. I thought, “why?”
Once I had many friends. I thought, “why?”
How much do you have to care about someone to consider them a friend?
I have people I care about on varying degrees. I like some. I love a few. I like some people who I’m no longer in contact with more than some I actively hang out with.
I have typed so many different things in this post, deleting and rewriting. Doesn’t need to be made public, as long as I write it down and throw it away. Signing off, I have much more to think about.
Strike while the iron is hot. Don’t look back. No time for second guesses. Break on through.
Sometimes you can’t throw the ring into the pit. You can’t think about it and expect yourself to willfully drop it. So just let go and look up, because the answer’s in the sky.
I’m just so fucking tired. And I really shouldn’t be. I’m too young. But this job is so monotonous that it’s making me delirious. But then what. More distractions, that’s what. All my solutions turn to shit. I have only one thing that’s concrete for me coming soon in my life. It will make everything so much easier. Is that what I want? Immediate financial security? I don’t know.
I still don’t know what I want out of life. I have no fire inside, or massive drive for anything. It’s because of all the fucking distractions. I just want to throw this computer outside and smash it with a hammer, then smash the TV and burn all my magic cards and just fucking toss all these stupid fucking distractions off a cliff. Then I want to surround myself with books, more fucking books, and even more fucking books, and maybe an instrument. I just want to shut everyone the fuck out, lock myself in a rubber room filled with nothing but chronicles and epics and poems… I’m sick of drama, of distractions, of people who hurt the ones I love, of loving. But I still give it a try. I try real hard because, most of all, I’m also sick of giving up.
And this is why I’m human. I changed the post from something that was not personal to me, me, me. Anyways, this is why I’m changing my life. My life is in fact, excellent. I couldn’t ask for anything else. And I will not lie down and let life step my face into the mud. I won’t lifelessly slog through it just because I exist. I will go to work tomorrow not miserable, but happy, knowing I can leave it all behind one day onto better things. I will wake up because I know that in the end, it’s all up to me. I will never let anyone tell me I can’t do something. And if I end up losing it all, of having absolutely nothing, I will laugh. There is nothing that life can throw at me that will make me lose. I will always win. And it’s because of this, that I will never lose in the first place.
/rant. I need some fucking alcohol…
I’ll post my original post later. Needed to vent first. One man audience anyways, who am I explaining myself to?
Life is so strange. It has a tendency to force you to make decisions. You get to the end of a hallway, and you’re presented with two doors. You believe in both. You want to open both. But you can only choose one. You enter one and the door slams behind you, often times locking.
All these doors are decisions, and behind them are consequences. Notice how each door requires the physical action of opening it. Personally I’m in the middle of a very long, very white hallway. There have only recently been portraits hanging from the walls, some aesthetic pleasure. And considering I’ve been walking through this monotonous hall, it is much more appreciated than in another circumstance. These pictures each have a safe hidden behind them. I have opened a few of them; some I liked, some I did not.
Recently I have spotted the end of this hall. I continue walking towards it, and I see two doors. These aren’t the usual side doors. These ones are massive, eloquent, exquisite, intricately designed. I do not know if they lead to the same place, as they are right beside each other. But I will pick one, because the hallway contInues. I will absolutely not miss this opportunity. This hallway will turn black.
Havent written here in a really long time, or written anything at all in general, so it’s pretty bad. Anyways…
Demon of Death
Ambition! Surging power. How will I last as a mortal on Earth?
Rejection! Kill the fiends. They cackle in your ear as they tear you limb from limb.
Endurance! Slay the king. The devil’s blood drips across your face, into your eyes.
Corruption! I am the king. Immortal thoughts twisted and the blood starts to boil.
Execution! Massive slaughter. The verdict is guilty no matter who you are.
Destruction! Surgery. Drop the head into a vat full of acid.
A thousand centuries of sleep. Start to wake. The massive demon of death, here to stay.
Starvation! Rancid meat. Strip the rotted flesh in ugly desperation.
Resurrection! Family. Laugh again as you emerge from your burial.
Sanity! Clear the conscience. A warmth emerges from the hearts made of ice. Demonic! The maw of hell. Angelic hands save me as I fall through the abyss. Tranquility! Stitched together. A trace of evil still runs through my veins. Retribution! Stronger than ever. A host of angels guide me as I step up to my throne.
Another century of sleep? Not today. The filthy demon of death flies away.
Even if I did, I’m half Japanese, I HAVE to read them at some point. But my lil bro keeps bringing them from the library, and so I’ve read them. Some of it is DBZ, (REALLY exciting) never got into it as a kid even though everyone else did (I’m always outta the loop). Read some Ranma 1/2, I loved the concept and idea so much I eventually read them ALL. Also some Case Closed (meh, it’s good sometimes), Sgt. Frog (I love it), nothing else I can remember.
And right now he’s bringing home Bleach. And as I’m sitting and reading these, well, we’re all pretty much influenced by the people we hang out with and our environment. Getting to the point, I noticed the way all these characters act in most of these stories. Whether they’re hitting each other, or insulting each other, it’s FUN TO READ. In real life, you do that and people get pissed and take it personally or cry about it and hate you. In these comics, I find it so FASCINATING that they simply brush off insults and LAUGH about it!! Or they throw insults back but they know it’s meaningless and that’s how it should be! They know there’s much more important tasks and they have immense duty and when one makes fun of them or acts all angry at them, it’s all fun and games because they know they’re harmless and there’s much greater things at stake than their ego.
I think another part of it is that looking into someone else’s life, you can see things from a clearer view instead of being in the moment I suppose.
In the past I actually did resolve to never take things personally, to simply laugh in the face of anger. I think it’s healthy. I never really did a great job with it though until now. I can base my outlook on life (a fraction of it) off of these characters; look at life from a third person perspective, see the argument you’re in, and realize how hilarious it actually is.
Also, I think Rukia Kuchiki from Bleach is immensely cute. <33
January 15, 1989
Why am I in here? I can’t feel my arms. I woke up a few minutes ago, dazed, absolutely confused, and I looked around but there was nothing. Just a white room, soft, but haunting. There’s a door over there. But I do not know what’s behind it, perhaps my worst nightmares? I shan’t take any chances, and I will stay here, yes, it’s safe in here. I can’t remember… Why can’t I remember? Images, flashes, my mind is shaking: I see cowboys, some policemen maybe, they’re all fools, I see blood, and a beautiful woman no longer alive.
I can’t get out of this damn suit. It’s a straitjacket, some sick asshole put me in this and locked me in this room. I want to see my family again… what was my wife’s name? Did I have any kids? Dear god, who did this to me?? What’s my name? I tried kicking the door, screaming, sweating and swearing, but I have given up for now. There’s always a way out, always a way out, always a way.
January ?, 1989
When is it night? I can never tell, that damn ceiling light never turns off! My eyes ache, I want to complain but I have to keep quiet. I can hear noises behind the door, demons talking, driving slaves to do their horrid work. I know they’re out there, but I must escape before they drag me to their infernal kitchen and chop me up and eat me.
It’s quiet behind the door. I wonder if the demons had gone to sleep? I will also try to sleep; any kind of schedule will be nice.
I woke up and I noticed the door was cracked open. I also noticed I was no longer in a straitjacket but I haven’t been if I’ve been writing in this journal but I could have sworn I was? This is my chance at freedom and I will escape this demonic prison. Yes! Escape, is a good, good thing! I silently open the door… and I see a family sitting at a table, eating dinner. I slowly step in, and they all look at me, smiling huge smiles, so happy that I want to join. I sit down and they all introduce themselves as Janet. I say hello and tell them I cannot remember my name, and the five Janets all frown and tell me they’re sorry and soon after they pass plates of food toward me and tell me to eat and I will feel better. At some point I asked Janet what the date was and she told me it was January 13th. I said “How is it possible that it’s the 13th when a couple days ago it was the 15th? I showed her my journal and she knew exactly what the problem was, and said “oh the year is now—” but I couldn’t hear what she said, my ears must have turned off because every time I asked her what year it is everything was on mute but I could see her lips moving.
The Janets said I could stay for the night if I have no where to go so I slept in the guest room and I slept great for the first time in a long time, until one of the Janets snuck into my room and we copulated. I felt bad about cheating on my wife or my boyfriend or whoever it was I was supposed to be devoted to but if they confront me about it I’ll just pull the “I lost my memory and forgot you existed” excuse out of my ass and that should fix everything.
January 14th, ????
I woke up this morning to four Janets peeking into my room, and when I noticed them they all giggled and ran away. I looked beside my bed, and Janet was sleeping, so peaceful, nothing in the world could corrupt this image and I wondered why she liked me so, but I couldn’t stay with her even though I liked her very much, but I’m a drifter, an office worker, a janitor, a serial killer, a millionaire. I grabbed my cowboy hat and my revolver, kissed Janet on the cheek, and got ready to go.
I fully opened the cracked door and stepped out into the dust. I’m a sheriff, collected and calm, philosophical peacekeeper with a dark past. Down the street some cowboys were walking toward me. Outlaws for sure, and needed to be put down. But as soon as I stepped forward, someone grabbed my arm. I turned to find Janet, with a worried look on her face, urging me to come back into her room where it was safe. I disagreed, gave her a false promise that I’d be fine, held her by the chin and kissed her, and told her to lock the door. She did, with tears rolling down her cheeks. She’s a beautiful woman; if I die protecting my town I know she’ll find a man and won’t be lonely.
I stepped in front of the outlaws. “Gentlemen, if you’d like to utilize this town, then I’d suggest you follow its laws like everybody else.” The men scoffed and looked at each other. I kept on edge, my fingers twitching and covered with sweat. These men appeared to be laughing at me casually, but I could see it in their eyes they were cold-hearted killers, who would lie or cheat or use any chance they get, to win at all costs. All but one, who was my deputy and had been tricking these men for the past year and was pretending to be one of them. He winked at me and knew the plan. One man quickly reached for his gun and pointed it at me. Everything was in slow motion, I could hear the trigger squeeze but it was too late because I had already ripped a bullet and it landed on his forehead and pierced it, killing him. Then I shot the man next to him, the bullet ripping his shirt and flesh and killing him. My deputy killed the other two men.
That night we celebrated at the saloon and I promoted my deputy to sheriff, as I was leaving the town this night. He knew it had to be done and I did too because someone like me isn’t fit to living in one spot even though I make a damn good sheriff. We went behind the saloon and he kissed me. It was a long kiss, and we got hot and intense and he started grabbing my breast. I stopped him, I told him I like him, but I wasn’t committed to him and respect myself enough to not jump onto a man I barely knew on a personal level and he seemed to understand my reasoning and apologized. I told him there was no need to apologize because I know how much the lad looks up to me. I gave him my final goodbye and left.
I walked back to the sheriff’s station and opened the door and stepped into a dark hallway. I couldn’t make out anything at all except for the ceiling lamp at the end of the hallway. Under this lamp was a doorway made of metal, rusted. The only thing heard was a violin playing classical music, extremely beautiful. I slowly walked down toward the doorway, the further I went the quieter the music got and when I finally opened the door there was no sound. I flicked on the light and there lay a skeleton and an old violin on a massive bed covered in dust.
I lay here on this bed, filthy though it is and this skeleton was once the body of my [CORRUPT DATA] ###w%fe, no. No %’s *%##usband.
Police officers barged into my house today and declared I was the one who murdered my wife. I claimed this was madness, that my wife was dead for 4 years already by natural causes. They didn’t care, and arrested me for murder. The court found me guilty and sentenced me to hang. So here I stand, ready to hang, noose around my neck and the executioner babbling words that no one cares to listen for. Suddenly the support my feet were stood upon disappeared and down I went. But before the noose’s rope stopped short and broke my neck I blinked my eyes and I fell and hit my head pretty hard on the floor of a white room, somewhat soft but frightening, wearing a straitjacket that I cannot get out of.
Thanks a lot! But I still have a lot to learn haha, only gonna get better! :) (hopefully)
I agree, Hemingway is great. (I seemed to be the only person in high school who actually appreciated The Old Man and the Sea) I have heard of the others but I haven’t gotten a chance to check them out yet, I’ve been busy with other things but I definitely will check them out. I’m reading On the Road right now by Jack Kerouac, mostly because The Dharma Bums was fantastic and I want to read more of his stuff. I did get to play an hour or more of Bioshock from the beginning, and I was hooked. Scared the crap out of me though lol. A book inspired by Bioshock; you should definitely go for it!