Six Years is a Long Time...

This time it truly has been a while. The world has changed quite a bit. I'm surprised this thing still exists. I'm surprised it's still here, untouched, like a time capsule of the feelings and thoughts I once had. The strange thing is that it's familiar, yet distant, like an old friend that you're unexpectedly catching up with.

I can say that while I can sympathize, I'm not this person any longer. I don't find myself weighed by the Witch of my depression, or chased down by my insecurities. Maybe I've matured, or maybe I've learned to bottle my emotions better, I'm not sure, or even sure if it's healthy.

I've not written like this in a long time. For various reasons, I felt the need to write again. It was a big part of who I was growing up, and it's the biggest thing from that time that I've felt I've lost. As melodramatic and symbolism-filled as my writing was, I still feel like it was good. My writers wit has certainly diminished in the interim (like a rusty knife, dulled with neglect and age?). I want to start again.

Part of me struggled with whether to post this. To disrupt this time capsule, or to leave it and start fresh. Part of me likes to see the path I've taken, and what 6 years can do. Part of me wants get rid of the somewhat garish theme, and broken links.

I think I'll just leave this here. A silent punctuation to a story no one read.

Still one of my favorite quotes, and it seems appropriate:

“So we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?”
― Hunter S. Thompson

I Feel You...

The scene is dark. Not pitch black, but one where the only sources of light are coming from outside the room. Street lamps casting their glow through three large bay windows, to be exact. The Venetian blinds cast horizontal lines in the orange glow. All was quiet and all was still.

Unshakable Doubt...

It's been a long time. I've not had too many reasons to return, hence my absence. It's been neutral and monotonous, these past few months. Nothing to speak of cause nothing has happened. Needless to say that something has happened, thus my return.

Nothing tragic, nothing grand. Nothing lost, nothing gained. Yet.

I feel uneasy writing this, simply due to the fact that I know I'm blowing it wildly out of proportion. It's impossible to care for someone so much, so soon. Of course, this exact thought led me to something much deeper. Is it better to care for someone to quickly, or to not care at all? The answer might appear obvious, but lets look at it a little deeper:

If someone does something nice for you, without any reason as to why, what is often the first thought that enters your mind? For me, it's that there's something else behind it. Whether it's that they want something, or it's part of some larger plot... Then again, I am the paranoid one.

Let us find out what others think.

The Villian...

"I'll take your love, I'll take your hate, I'll take your desire. I'll take your heart, I'll take your pain. I'll take the world when it turns on you. I'll set it on fire. I'll bring you to life..."

"You'd be willing to destroy the world for love, yes? No? Hmm, that's a very surprising answer, to be honest.", the man before me paused to pour some tea into a small, very antique looking cup, which he carefully offer to me. There was a cautious nature about the man, no doubt a side-effect of his past occupation.

"I could tell by your hesitation and then sudden expression of discomfort at the question. Most who interject logic in the question always give the same answer. It's one that should be answered on pure emotion. I was expecting more from you. You appear to me to be one of those 'do anything for love' sort of fellows. Am I wrong?", I hesitated.

"N-no... I mean, I-I'm not sure. I've never placed myself in that sort of situation. Not that I think I'd-"

"-Ever find youself deciding between the fate of the world and the one you love?"

He sat down with the waning light falling onto his shoulders, which gave him a sort of gentle nature to him. 'Gentle' of course, wouldn't, no couldn't be used to describe this man. He is perhaps one of the most hated men in all of history, and here I was interviewing him.

"I was more surprised by the question, than anything, I believe."

"Is that so? Oh, so you must be one that thinks that a man such as myself must be incapable of love, that so much hatred and corruption must have been generated from the hatred and corruption that has filled my past, yes?" he said, his voice in a slow crescendo, "I hate to disappoint you, dear fellow, but I was not always such a despised man. I, in fact, could once be considered to be in love."

On The Run From No One...

It's cold, very cold. I am a dejected man. I'll admit that, but why does it have to be so fucking cold? My tears have turned to ice, and are burning my face, but I have no time to wipe them away. I must continue running. My quest for escape from my own person hell has not yet reached it's end. I must continue running till I can no longer run.

My drive is someone beautiful; someone I love very much. I must keep running for them. I have to. I must escape, and meet them, and say, "I'm home.", with which they will greet me with, "Thank God!". They will be happy, and I will feel safe in their arms. Safety, something I must seek.

They aren't far behind. I can feel them breathing down my neck; nipping at my heals with their sharpened teeth and their hollow hearts. Anticipating the kill. One I shall make them work for.

"Keep running, keep running...", is all that goes through my head. I can't stop. I mustn't stop. I feel them. They're over coming me. Draining the life from me. I collapse. I try to regain my stance, but my legs collapse underneath the weight. I can't escape. I can't run from imaginary problems.

The Witch...

Something has been plaguing me lately. Something far darker than what I've dealt with prior to this time. No, that's a lie. I've faced this monster, and struck it dead. Seeing it here again raises some questions as to my thoroughness. This is, of course, is bad for my image. All of it is. It's very existence nags at my being, tearing away pieces of my sol, strand by bloody strand. I've stretched my resources far too thin this time. Reconsolidation, anyone? Far scarier a word than I could have imagined.

Am I jealous? No. Maybe. I'm not sure. I have nothing to be jealous of. No one, no one to be jealous of. There is no one else, and yet, I feel lost, and unsought. Loneliness does not being to describe. That sounds far too dark. No, I refuse to say that I'm sad, let alone depressed. Such a horrible word, that. No, I'm fine. One step at a time. It's just taking longer than expected to cope with this burden.

This Witch needs to be ridden from my shoulders. It's far too much to deal with at this time, now that it's already at it's limit. I'm not sure what I can do now.

Call in all the generals. We'll have a battle plan before the setting of the sun.

The Secret Wish...

I want to send a message. I want to speak without words. To share openly the ideas That have amassed within. I want open thought. I want ideas in tones. Expression without consequence. Love without Fear. I want my feelings to flourish. I want color, joy, happiness. Do you see the patterns? What I Hear Is Harmony What I Feel Is Ecstasy This Is The Closest Thing On Earth To A Miracle Let Music be the Food of Love

The Lies of the Eyes are Written in Fiction...

Deception occurs with our very perception. This deception begins with the eyes themselves. The eyes cannot see all spectrum of light. In turn, we cannot perceive the world to it's fullest. When the brain goes to process the raw data, it often fills in the blanks, or processes it relative to other images. When the mind interprets this product, it can only interpret based on images already perceived. We are not perfect beings. We, in turn, make mistakes. The world continues turning.

All of our senses decieve us in one way or another. They are unable to perfectly emulate the world around us. We can only function based on what data we receive from them. In my honest, but highly uneducated opinion, no sense decieves us more than our sense of sight.

Templates...

How do I explain who I am in five minutes. It's a bit unfair to ask us to sum all of our life experiences, opinions, and ideas into a 300 second presentation. It's cruel, and unusual. If I even wanted to prented to want to do this, I'd have no idea where to begin. I guess I could start by saying that I spent three hours in a pub drinking pints with a mate, and talking about music. I tend to do this a lot. The talking about music part, not the drinking in pubs. I've probably spent a large portion of my life talking about, and listening to music. Both papers that I've had to write so far this semester have been about music. Almost all the titles to posts in this very blog are indeed song titles, or re-purposed lyrics. Start to see a pattern, eh?


I do tend to get a lot of flak about it, too, though. I could probably name off a hundred different bands that few, if any of you would know. This has given me the pretentious label, and I've had people tell me that I select music simply because it's unknown. I apologize to all of those who I've given this thought to through my music selection. I tend to pick music on based on one of three criteria; First, it's eclecticness, sure. I enjoy songs that interest me. Who doesn't? Second, the story behind the band, album, band. If it's an interesting story, then I'm always interested. Lastly, enjoyment. This one is very vague, and for good reason. I consider myself a collector. Like most personal collectors, I collect what I like, and I've found very little that I don't like. This has lead to push my music collection to around 12,000+ songs at last count, in the last generation of it.

As strange as I am, I enjoy creating multiple catalogs, though not entirely on purpose. I've had many iterations in the past. I all, around 5 to 6 different "Libraries" each containing a different set of music, and each one lost due to some kind of hardware failure. All but the last one, which was backed up at 11,000 songs. Not everything was saved, but most. At the time, I felt like it would actually be more beneficial to get new music. Not having the songs I use to listen would prevent me from listening to them repeatedly, and would force me to explore new areas of music.

I was right, too. Not having those bands and songs which have come to form a sort of "security blanket" has forced me into new, and at times uncomfortable territory. This is not because I dislike the music, but people do tend to stick to one, two, or at most three different major genres without branching out too much. I've found that it's hard to when you become accustomed to what you're listening to. I've also learned that those that say they listen to "everything" are generally lying. Peoples views of what "everything" is, tend to be very narrow. Mention one genre out side of the blanket term, and you're likely to hear a "no", or, more often, a "what?". What do I listen to? "What I can get my hands on."

Stab The Unstoppable Hero...

It's been awhile. I've taken a little break, sure, but I'm still here. I've just been busy, with life, and all. Trust me, it's nice to have something to do, after you feel like you've been floating through life for the past year or so. Gives a sense of meaning. Progress...

Quite a lot has happened since my last letter. I've got direction now, but I'm not any less of myself, just more directed, I'd guess. More focus, meaning much more for the future. I'd love to let you know of all I've done, but it's not all that interesting. Just what should have been done about two and a half years ago.

I'm sorry. For now, I must leave you, but it's as I promised: more for the future.

Long Lonely Night...

The cold is biting. Fridged air blows across my face, making me feel all the more hollow, as if it's blowing through me. The moon hides behind the thick dark clouds, enveloping the white, snow laden street before me in a shroud of black. I bow my head and stop my pace. I close my eyes. No difference. Closing my eyes, and opening again, it's the same: impenetrable darkness. It's as if the world has suddenly stop existing around me. I contemplate this thought for a moment. What if?

I shake my head at the notion, as my body again reminds me of the harsh chill through a quiver that runs down my back. The whistling wind continues to blow. A second more, and the light of the moon returns, a half crescent of hope. I return to my journey. The thought again comes to me. What if the world did suddenly stop existing? What would happen? What would cause it? It's hard for humans, like myself to picture themselves not existing, though, I'd suppose one couldn't. I'm press my brows together and stroke my chin, as I drift deep into thought. If I were to guess, it'd be much like this street, cold and alone, dark and emotionless.

I feel even more alone by this thought. I press tightly to my coat, and continue walking a quicker pace. I look at the carpet of purity laid before me, stretching endless off into the distance. It's untouched, and the only sign of anyone's presence are the footsteps left from my path. Again, I seem to be reminding myself of just how lonely I am, but I suppose that is the cause of my journey.

A Christmas party. Or was it something else entirely? I'm not sure. Now that I mention it, I'm not exactly sure from where I came. Amnesia? Surprised at my own unknowing, I look up in suspense. The wind immediately responds by removing my black cap, and carrying it off somewhere behind me. I turn and look back from whence I came. My footsteps lead off into the darkness, and it appears that my hat was carries off there, as well. I try to argue in favor of going after it, but it seems futile in the extreme darkness, and my body simply wants to press on. I feel that some poor lost soul will stumble upon the hat, and need it far more than I.

I continue once more on my journey, thinking back to why I set out in the first place, and from where. I know that it had to be someplace far warmer than this. Though I was not lacking appropriate attire, I was not dressed for an extended trek in this weather, by any means. Long black wollen coat, mittens, long, thick pants, and boots that leave deep imprints in the snow. From where I come continues to elude me, as though the thought is dodging my questions. I feel that I know from where I came, but I simply can not make of it. I tire from seeming complexity of the question. To where I'm going, I too, can not recall. A party? For what, I wonder. A time of celebration and joy, merriment and gift giving? What could there be to celebrate on such a cold, lonely evening and does seem that I, undeed, seem to be very alone. the darkness enshrouding my surroundings, as though they themselves are nothing but the dark. Alone.

The biting cold reminds me of just how alone I am. I look around more closely, but there still appears to be nothing but snow and darkness, aside from the half crescent moon, providing hope for this weary traveler. I walk calmly through the snow, leaving careful footprints in my wake. As I do, I come across a black cap. I stop and am a bit stumped by this one lone hat sitting in my path. I, again, look around, and there is no presence other than myself. I wonder what poor soul could have left a single black cap sitting in the snow. The wind blows through me as though I'm hollow. In need of more insulation, I kneel to retrieve the hat. As I do, the moon slips behind the clouds, and I am alone. Indeed, it's as though the world has disappeared. I ponder this notion for a moment. In the dark, I pick up the hat, and place it on my head. As I stand, the moon returns, and I continue my journey, with the thought plaguing my head: What if the World has ended?

Long Sought Journey...

It's not a journey you take fool-heartedly. It's one that takes appropriate courage, and lunacy. A common cause of soul, and flesh; this thing we not of until we find it, sends us on this journey. A merciless voyage, wrought with peril at every turn. Not of mortal danger, but of something much worse: heartache. A pain so deep that it can not be mended by any medicines, and leaves a scar so deep that it can not be covered. This is but one danger we must face along this solemn campaign of the spirit.

We, however, need not face it alone. We shall make many a comrade on this trip, and that is the hardest part...

Finding Peaches on the Moon...

It happened something like this...

We met. Not consequential, not without meaning.
Lost. Eyes, fires, and road signs.
Still looking. Frantically searching for that one true.
You. Standing there, 1,000 yard stare.
Dare. Yes, found, happy, safe.

I wish I could say that was it. Stream of consciousness poem? I'm not sure where to go from here, so I'll keep walking, off into the squandered light of a dieing star. Hell, rise up, for you'll find no resistance here. It's already lost...

Midnight in a Perfect World...

The sky is lit up. The moon, so bright that it makes sharp shadows of everything below it, crosses the sky in low arch, almost touchable. On this particular night stands a lone figure in a sleeping city. The streets empty of life, save this one figure. He stands

Love Letters Lost...

For years

Not Without Meaning...

It's Sunday, the day of many's religious revivals before starting their week of sinful activities over again. I know not why I'm writing this. I should be celebrating, happy for my good fortune, but I know not why I have these feelings of regret. Not for my actions, but something deeper, as if I'm changing one other's winds of fortune. Why must it be this way? Can we not be passive observers, or must our observations always enact some force on the event?

Today is not a day without meaning, but it's one that I've yet to discover.

Check Your Ego...

It's not so much love, as complete and total infatuation. It's rather sad really. Sad in the sense that it's an almost inescapable infatuation. Inescapable in the sense that there's no point to. It's infested my life for the better part of 16 years. Why stop now, it has to end soon, right? Don't I wish. Granted I don't think I'm in one of those searing pains that occur when the world just seems to be coming down around your head. No, things are quite fine, actually. I have a job, which isn't currently in the most stable of situations, but it's there nonetheless. I have a car that drives, and again, it's not the most stable of cars, but it's there nonetheless. I also have the potential of going back to school, and then on to a full time University, but not yet completely secured. Dare I say that it's a pivotal time in my life, one that I could easily screw up. Dare I chance it on someone who pays no attention to me? No.

Don't Ask Me...Ask Yourself...

What am I suppose to do? Every time I do this to myself, it becomes harder and harder to not just go insane. I don't know why. Masochist is a word that I've heard thrown around to describe me. I guess it would fit. Why do I put up with all the shit when I feel like I'm being taken advantage of? Is it harder to brunt the burden than to just walk away. Would walking away really solve any of the issues here?

It's a problem with no easy answer. There are so many other opportunities available to me. Why do I deal with it? I keep coming back to that question. The same question, one that will stand for eternity. Why? The Who, What, When, and Where matter not. It's always that why that I get hung up on, and solving that is no easy task. It's not like I can really talk to anyone about it. The web of lies is wound so tight I'm choking in it, even though it's not even all necessarily lies. Half truths thrown about hap hazardly, little care about not only the moral consequences, but the mental consequences as well. Cold, lonely, and without a care in the world...

Stress...

It's not to be expected. In truth, what isn't expected is what often happens. It's a crazy thing. The world just one day falls apart. What comes next is anyone's guess. Regardless of what it is, they'd be right. As it just so happens, the world ends, not in disaster, but joy. It is a truly wonderful occasion by which everyone's dreams come true. Literally, each persons ideal world comes to life. An entirely new existence based on what they've always wanted. It has always been stated that the universe would always be replaced by something entirely more bizarre. Who knew the crackpots (geniuses?) would be right?

Abbey's existence is probably the strangest. No, strange isn't the right word. Normal? No, that won't work either. Simply, she wants everything back the way it was. It is entirely possible now that all those scientific laws, critical logic, common sense, and other sensible non-sense have been properly dealt with by being placed firmly in the proverbial (perhaps literal) trash can. It's a brave new world where in reality, there is no reality. Chaos has never been so fun...

You are the Sun...

...and I am the Moon, and we are in this together.

It's been a bit since I last wrote to you. Sorry about that. Normally, I would lie and say that I was busy. In this case, I really was busy, no lie. Promise. Slowly but surely I've been getting my life together. Things are looking up, and while I may not be making the best decisions at the moment, I am doing my best a making a better future for myself. I really wish others would do the same. Sadly, I feel my words fall on deaf ears. I'll continue trying irregardless. It's my duty. Eventually, someone will listen.

I was told I'm in tune. I'm connected to those around me. I'm fairly good at interpreting emotions, facial expressions, body language. Some call it empathy (not to be confused with apathy...or is it the other way around...), but that's not the whole story. I find it easy to interpret those whom I share feelings with. I also understand that there are just some situations where I "just don't understand (sob)", but I do understand. I may not have the same thoughts, but I do know the emotion. Emotions are one of the few things that link all humanity together (though I'm sure this is debatable, as is all things). Love, hate, fear, joy, sadness, and confusion. At one point or another, all humans experience the full gambit. Only natural.

Speaking of this, I wish others were more empathetic to me. I feel like I understand most people I meet, but few, if anyone, understands me. Maybe I just act to guarded. I do have a hard time talking to people, and an even harder time telling even close friends what needs to be said. Not good. No, it's quite bad actually. I don't have all the answers, and this is definitely a perfect example.

Another perfect example of how I don't know everything: I Love Someone. Truly, I do. I've wrestled with the idea of Love, and what exactly it is. I've determined that it is impossible to describe, not because it's complicated, but because it's simple beyond any measure of the word. Love is Joy. You don't seek Joy, it just occurs throughout life. Eventually, you'll come to that one individual that produces that Joy. That is Love....

...I've found mine. The issue being that I don't know how to best express it to this individual. The situation is a perilous one. A chasm I'm tiptoeing through. See you on the other side?

~JD