08 December 2006
Please lower your voice 7:52 PM
I just added a Shoutbox to this website, you'll find it in the sidebar. Feel free to fill it with nonsensical ramblings. Or decent messages directed to me, those are nice too.
06 December 2006
Twiddle, Diddle, and Piddle (with a fiddle in the middle) 10:04 PM
All that to say that I'm losing my inspiration to keep this blog up. I feel my writing has become rather cliche, what with all these angsty feelings that I need to get off my chest and out to the world through my writing so that others can read my blog and label me emo so that I can write a rebuttal and verbally kick their butts through my convincing and witty discourses.
Breathe in, breathe out.
All seriousness aside, I'm not saying that I'm going to go on an indefinite hiatus, neither am I saying that I'm shutting this site down or giving up on writing. I'll never give up on writing, just like I'll never give up tabasco sauce. But I need to regain my motivation and inspiration, and I need to finish my blog's new and simplistic look.
But I have been having a harder time coming up with things to write about, and what little great ideas pop into my head (POP!) are usually lost to the big chaotic void that is my mind.
I need my caffeine fix. I know it's Liquid Satan, but sometimes sin is very tempting.
So I'll just here and play with my three new little best friends, Twiddle, Diddle, and Piddle. We'll brainstorm hot new posts and waste a lot of time that way.
On a lighter note, caramel popcorn is a travesty. Avoid like I avoid Marianne. Which basically means you should hide whenever you see it.
Breathe in, breathe out.
All seriousness aside, I'm not saying that I'm going to go on an indefinite hiatus, neither am I saying that I'm shutting this site down or giving up on writing. I'll never give up on writing, just like I'll never give up tabasco sauce. But I need to regain my motivation and inspiration, and I need to finish my blog's new and simplistic look.
But I have been having a harder time coming up with things to write about, and what little great ideas pop into my head (POP!) are usually lost to the big chaotic void that is my mind.
I need my caffeine fix. I know it's Liquid Satan, but sometimes sin is very tempting.
So I'll just here and play with my three new little best friends, Twiddle, Diddle, and Piddle. We'll brainstorm hot new posts and waste a lot of time that way.
On a lighter note, caramel popcorn is a travesty. Avoid like I avoid Marianne. Which basically means you should hide whenever you see it.
03 December 2006
One Step Further 3:28 PM
"I tried."
I don't think I could utter a more bitter sentence. When you come face to face with yourself, admitting that you're a failure is never easy. I stared long and hard at the glaring eyes in the mirror, but they only betrayed what I knew to be true. "You're a masterpiece, a beautiful farce", they stated. I squinted and shook my head violently. Never! Perish the thought. I tried to tell them who I really was, but I had no answer.
Who am I?
I ask this question from the depths of my familiar insanity. In all eccentricity, who am I deep inside? I wish I could laugh it off, I wish I could make it go away. I created a little world for me, I blurred the lines between reality and fiction. Reality is so painful, I escaped it but now I can't understand it. Reality, my old enemy, only allows me enough time to rise to my feet before it knocks me down with a cackle.
But I am so goddamn stubborn. I can never give in, I can never let it win. I'll flail my arms wildly and grasp at any lifeline, I'll throw punches at the largest of all monsters; though my energy is sapped, though I breathed my last breath ages ago.
See me through the eyes of this world and it's people. I am a stranger here. I cannot fit in, not even with professed eccentrics. I laugh and they smile. I open my mouth and they listen. But all their interest is pretentious, all their love is fake, their masks make me afraid, and their plastic smiles haunt me.
I believed in you. You never failed to let me down. I continued to hope, I continued to put my trust in you. You must know this, you must enjoy watching me fall, you must enjoy watching me suffer and bleed. You take advantage of my simple faith, innocence and naiveness. You profess to love me, you say "Come, we will care for you." But now I'm disgusted with you. I don't know if I'll ever break free from your cruel grasp. You have me chained to you through simple hope, through the dream that one day you will change. But all I've ever known you to be is abusive. You've wounded me beyond belief, you've tortured me with glee, and you hardly realize, you could hardly care. I love you and I don't know why; you, humanity.
I thirst for true love, and while I know the location of the source, I have failed to open the floodgates. I beat these gates, I screamed at them to open; I held lonely vigils next to them, hoping that they will have mercy on me. It was then that I realized that I was the one who held the key, and yet I refused to open the gates; for I feared I would drown. I did not tend to my wounds, for I was afraid of the initial sting. But now, I clench that key; I grit my teeth as I let that healing balm sear my skin and close my wounds.
There's a beautiful place not too far from here, one can reach it two ways: honorably, or dishonorably. The easiest way out is dishonorable, and it holds it's temptation. But when looked at in perspective, I'd rather live in pain and die a hero than die a coward and live in shame.
There is a light that shines through the darkness, and I follow. I have nothing else. If my existence is worth anything, if I can rise above the mockery that I am, it will have been because I've followed that light.
I've been stripped bare. Any coverings I throw over myself are seared by that light. Anything I hold on too tightly to becomes ashes before me. The light is jealous, it will have no other cheap imitations before me. I mourn these things, but I must continue. The light will not wait.
You may ask, why do I follow that light, seeing as it costs me everything? Because that light is everything. Anything else is worthless. They're all trinkets, fit only for the fire. That light is my comfort, it is my strength, it is my refuge, it is clarity in a world of insanity.
Every step I take leads me further into pain; every new path is rife with yet more obstacles. I hold not in high regard what I am, but what I shall become when this life is over. If I can endure yet another step, then maybe, just maybe, I have become that man.
Complete the work you have started, Lord. Forgive my reluctance. Forgive my hesitation. I tried, but I tried on my own, in my weak and failing flesh. I can see that you love me, for you've poured so much into me, and put love and patience into my breakings. Now, as I watch you work, I can only anticipate the results.
I don't think I could utter a more bitter sentence. When you come face to face with yourself, admitting that you're a failure is never easy. I stared long and hard at the glaring eyes in the mirror, but they only betrayed what I knew to be true. "You're a masterpiece, a beautiful farce", they stated. I squinted and shook my head violently. Never! Perish the thought. I tried to tell them who I really was, but I had no answer.
Who am I?
I ask this question from the depths of my familiar insanity. In all eccentricity, who am I deep inside? I wish I could laugh it off, I wish I could make it go away. I created a little world for me, I blurred the lines between reality and fiction. Reality is so painful, I escaped it but now I can't understand it. Reality, my old enemy, only allows me enough time to rise to my feet before it knocks me down with a cackle.
But I am so goddamn stubborn. I can never give in, I can never let it win. I'll flail my arms wildly and grasp at any lifeline, I'll throw punches at the largest of all monsters; though my energy is sapped, though I breathed my last breath ages ago.
See me through the eyes of this world and it's people. I am a stranger here. I cannot fit in, not even with professed eccentrics. I laugh and they smile. I open my mouth and they listen. But all their interest is pretentious, all their love is fake, their masks make me afraid, and their plastic smiles haunt me.
I believed in you. You never failed to let me down. I continued to hope, I continued to put my trust in you. You must know this, you must enjoy watching me fall, you must enjoy watching me suffer and bleed. You take advantage of my simple faith, innocence and naiveness. You profess to love me, you say "Come, we will care for you." But now I'm disgusted with you. I don't know if I'll ever break free from your cruel grasp. You have me chained to you through simple hope, through the dream that one day you will change. But all I've ever known you to be is abusive. You've wounded me beyond belief, you've tortured me with glee, and you hardly realize, you could hardly care. I love you and I don't know why; you, humanity.
I thirst for true love, and while I know the location of the source, I have failed to open the floodgates. I beat these gates, I screamed at them to open; I held lonely vigils next to them, hoping that they will have mercy on me. It was then that I realized that I was the one who held the key, and yet I refused to open the gates; for I feared I would drown. I did not tend to my wounds, for I was afraid of the initial sting. But now, I clench that key; I grit my teeth as I let that healing balm sear my skin and close my wounds.
There's a beautiful place not too far from here, one can reach it two ways: honorably, or dishonorably. The easiest way out is dishonorable, and it holds it's temptation. But when looked at in perspective, I'd rather live in pain and die a hero than die a coward and live in shame.
There is a light that shines through the darkness, and I follow. I have nothing else. If my existence is worth anything, if I can rise above the mockery that I am, it will have been because I've followed that light.
I've been stripped bare. Any coverings I throw over myself are seared by that light. Anything I hold on too tightly to becomes ashes before me. The light is jealous, it will have no other cheap imitations before me. I mourn these things, but I must continue. The light will not wait.
You may ask, why do I follow that light, seeing as it costs me everything? Because that light is everything. Anything else is worthless. They're all trinkets, fit only for the fire. That light is my comfort, it is my strength, it is my refuge, it is clarity in a world of insanity.
Every step I take leads me further into pain; every new path is rife with yet more obstacles. I hold not in high regard what I am, but what I shall become when this life is over. If I can endure yet another step, then maybe, just maybe, I have become that man.
Complete the work you have started, Lord. Forgive my reluctance. Forgive my hesitation. I tried, but I tried on my own, in my weak and failing flesh. I can see that you love me, for you've poured so much into me, and put love and patience into my breakings. Now, as I watch you work, I can only anticipate the results.
One Step Further 3:28 PM
"I tried."
I don't think I could utter a more bitter sentence. When you come face to face with yourself, admitting that you're a failure is never easy. I stared long and hard at the glaring eyes in the mirror, but they only betrayed what I knew to be true. "You're a masterpiece, a beautiful farce", they stated. I squinted and shook my head violently. Never! Perish the thought. I tried to tell them who I really was, but I had no answer.
Who am I?
I ask this question from the depths of my familiar insanity. In all eccentricity, who am I deep inside? I wish I could laugh it off, I wish I could make it go away. I created a little world for me, I blurred the lines between reality and fiction. Reality is so painful, I escaped it but now I can't understand it. Reality, my old enemy, only allows me enough time to rise to my feet before it knocks me down with a cackle.
But I am so goddamn stubborn. I can never give in, I can never let it win. I'll flail my arms wildly and grasp at any lifeline, I'll throw punches at the largest of all monsters; though my energy is sapped, though I breathed my last breath ages ago.
See me through the eyes of this world and it's people. I am a stranger here. I cannot fit in, not even with professed eccentrics. I laugh and they smile. I open my mouth and they listen. But all their interest is pretentious, all their love is fake, their masks make me afraid, and their plastic smiles haunt me.
I believed in you. You never failed to let me down. I continued to hope, I continued to put my trust in you. You must know this, you must enjoy watching me fall, you must enjoy watching me suffer and bleed. You take advantage of my simple faith, innocence and naiveness. You profess to love me, you say "Come, we will care for you." But now I'm disgusted with you. I don't know if I'll ever break free from your cruel grasp. You have me chained to you through simple hope, through the dream that one day you will change. But all I've ever known you to be is abusive. You've wounded me beyond belief, you've tortured me with glee, and you hardly realize, you could hardly care. I love you and I don't know why; you, humanity.
I thirst for true love, and while I know the location of the source, I have failed to open the floodgates. I beat these gates, I screamed at them to open; I held lonely vigils next to them, hoping that they will have mercy on me. It was then that I realized that I was the one who held the key, and yet I refused to open the gates; for I feared I would drown. I did not tend to my wounds, for I was afraid of the initial sting. But now, I clench that key; I grit my teeth as I let that healing balm sear my skin and close my wounds.
There's a beautiful place not too far from here, one can reach it two ways: honorably, or dishonorably. The easiest way out is dishonorable, and it holds it's temptation. But when looked at in perspective, I'd rather live in pain and die a hero than die a coward and live in shame.
There is a light that shines through the darkness, and I follow. I have nothing else. If my existence is worth anything, if I can rise above the mockery that I am, it will have been because I've followed that light.
I've been stripped bare. Any coverings I throw over myself are seared by that light. Anything I hold on too tightly to becomes ashes before me. The light is jealous, it will have no other cheap imitations before me. I mourn these things, but I must continue. The light will not wait.
You may ask, why do I follow that light, seeing as it costs me everything? Because that light is everything. Anything else is worthless. They're all trinkets, fit only for the fire. That light is my comfort, it is my strength, it is my refuge, it is clarity in a world of insanity.
Every step I take leads me further into pain; every new path is rife with yet more obstacles. I hold not in high regard what I am, but what I shall become when this life is over. If I can endure yet another step, then maybe, just maybe, I have become that man.
Complete the work you have started, Lord. Forgive my reluctance. Forgive my hesitation. I tried, but I tried on my own, in my weak and failing flesh. I can see that you love me, for you've poured so much into me, and put love and patience into my breakings. Now, as I watch you work, I can only anticipate the results.
I don't think I could utter a more bitter sentence. When you come face to face with yourself, admitting that you're a failure is never easy. I stared long and hard at the glaring eyes in the mirror, but they only betrayed what I knew to be true. "You're a masterpiece, a beautiful farce", they stated. I squinted and shook my head violently. Never! Perish the thought. I tried to tell them who I really was, but I had no answer.
Who am I?
I ask this question from the depths of my familiar insanity. In all eccentricity, who am I deep inside? I wish I could laugh it off, I wish I could make it go away. I created a little world for me, I blurred the lines between reality and fiction. Reality is so painful, I escaped it but now I can't understand it. Reality, my old enemy, only allows me enough time to rise to my feet before it knocks me down with a cackle.
But I am so goddamn stubborn. I can never give in, I can never let it win. I'll flail my arms wildly and grasp at any lifeline, I'll throw punches at the largest of all monsters; though my energy is sapped, though I breathed my last breath ages ago.
See me through the eyes of this world and it's people. I am a stranger here. I cannot fit in, not even with professed eccentrics. I laugh and they smile. I open my mouth and they listen. But all their interest is pretentious, all their love is fake, their masks make me afraid, and their plastic smiles haunt me.
I believed in you. You never failed to let me down. I continued to hope, I continued to put my trust in you. You must know this, you must enjoy watching me fall, you must enjoy watching me suffer and bleed. You take advantage of my simple faith, innocence and naiveness. You profess to love me, you say "Come, we will care for you." But now I'm disgusted with you. I don't know if I'll ever break free from your cruel grasp. You have me chained to you through simple hope, through the dream that one day you will change. But all I've ever known you to be is abusive. You've wounded me beyond belief, you've tortured me with glee, and you hardly realize, you could hardly care. I love you and I don't know why; you, humanity.
I thirst for true love, and while I know the location of the source, I have failed to open the floodgates. I beat these gates, I screamed at them to open; I held lonely vigils next to them, hoping that they will have mercy on me. It was then that I realized that I was the one who held the key, and yet I refused to open the gates; for I feared I would drown. I did not tend to my wounds, for I was afraid of the initial sting. But now, I clench that key; I grit my teeth as I let that healing balm sear my skin and close my wounds.
There's a beautiful place not too far from here, one can reach it two ways: honorably, or dishonorably. The easiest way out is dishonorable, and it holds it's temptation. But when looked at in perspective, I'd rather live in pain and die a hero than die a coward and live in shame.
There is a light that shines through the darkness, and I follow. I have nothing else. If my existence is worth anything, if I can rise above the mockery that I am, it will have been because I've followed that light.
I've been stripped bare. Any coverings I throw over myself are seared by that light. Anything I hold on too tightly to becomes ashes before me. The light is jealous, it will have no other cheap imitations before me. I mourn these things, but I must continue. The light will not wait.
You may ask, why do I follow that light, seeing as it costs me everything? Because that light is everything. Anything else is worthless. They're all trinkets, fit only for the fire. That light is my comfort, it is my strength, it is my refuge, it is clarity in a world of insanity.
Every step I take leads me further into pain; every new path is rife with yet more obstacles. I hold not in high regard what I am, but what I shall become when this life is over. If I can endure yet another step, then maybe, just maybe, I have become that man.
Complete the work you have started, Lord. Forgive my reluctance. Forgive my hesitation. I tried, but I tried on my own, in my weak and failing flesh. I can see that you love me, for you've poured so much into me, and put love and patience into my breakings. Now, as I watch you work, I can only anticipate the results.
17 November 2006
Forsaken 8:41 PM
"Glassy eyes staring up at an unfeeling ceiling, a limp body under a heavy blanket, the pain of a reluctant return to a world he can't escape etched on his face; a picture he'd never want anyone to see."
I gazed nostalgically at pictures of her today. I don't know why the hell I do that to myself. I remember waking up one night feverishly whispering her name. I almost wish she would break down my door, kick me to the ground and scream "It's over, it's over, it's over, you stubborn fool!" I might get it then.
I'm glad for anything that takes my mind off her; coming here has done me good. There's so much I can do for others, for myself, for the Lord, for the world, when I'm not wasting time thinking of her.
Everything around me seems to beckon me to tear it up, throw it around; every beautiful thing reminds me of her and makes me want to scream. If there's anything I cannot afford to lose, it's my self-control. Thank God for bringing me here, thank God there are only occasional memories to deal with.
But I wonder, will she ever leave? Why did it turn out this way, Lord? I know you know best, but why her? Why did you give her to me and then take her away? Why Lord, are there lonely days and nights, no tears, only hidden pain; why can't I feel you the way I did before?
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani; why hast thou forsaken me?"
I gazed nostalgically at pictures of her today. I don't know why the hell I do that to myself. I remember waking up one night feverishly whispering her name. I almost wish she would break down my door, kick me to the ground and scream "It's over, it's over, it's over, you stubborn fool!" I might get it then.
I'm glad for anything that takes my mind off her; coming here has done me good. There's so much I can do for others, for myself, for the Lord, for the world, when I'm not wasting time thinking of her.
Everything around me seems to beckon me to tear it up, throw it around; every beautiful thing reminds me of her and makes me want to scream. If there's anything I cannot afford to lose, it's my self-control. Thank God for bringing me here, thank God there are only occasional memories to deal with.
But I wonder, will she ever leave? Why did it turn out this way, Lord? I know you know best, but why her? Why did you give her to me and then take her away? Why Lord, are there lonely days and nights, no tears, only hidden pain; why can't I feel you the way I did before?
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani; why hast thou forsaken me?"
15 November 2006
Oi! 11:33 PM
Look at that post title. Let's face it. I'm friking tired.
But guess what? I love this area! People here are really chill. Yes indeed.
OK, bye-bye short and pointless sentences. I just felt obligated to put up a little something-something so you'll all know that I'm still alive and care about this lonely little corner of cyberspace. Except that I don't write as well when I feel obligated to write. Or when I'm tired. Which I always am, so please go ahead and excuse me for all the posts in this blog. Or excuse me for the entire blog. That would be nice.
You see, I wake up early here, 7:30 a.m. Back home I wake up at ten. Notice the difference? But it's all good, 'cause I'm breaking the bad habit of waking up late. But that's not the only bad habit I'm breaking.
I like it here because I'm learning, because if I slip out of line I get loving correction, and because that means I'll grow and change for the better.
It's all good, really.
But guess what? I love this area! People here are really chill. Yes indeed.
OK, bye-bye short and pointless sentences. I just felt obligated to put up a little something-something so you'll all know that I'm still alive and care about this lonely little corner of cyberspace. Except that I don't write as well when I feel obligated to write. Or when I'm tired. Which I always am, so please go ahead and excuse me for all the posts in this blog. Or excuse me for the entire blog. That would be nice.
You see, I wake up early here, 7:30 a.m. Back home I wake up at ten. Notice the difference? But it's all good, 'cause I'm breaking the bad habit of waking up late. But that's not the only bad habit I'm breaking.
I like it here because I'm learning, because if I slip out of line I get loving correction, and because that means I'll grow and change for the better.
It's all good, really.
31 October 2006
Wait and See 5:58 PM
I'm moving to Toronto. Allow me to expound further.
I've been invited to join an FD home on the outskirts of Toronto. I say outskirts because almost every time I insinuate that they are ("they" being the Torontinians...Oops. Excuse me.) living in Toronto they kindly remind me that they are not living in Toronto per se, but that they are living in the outskirts, urban area, name-of-the-municipality-that-I-can't-remember. Oh, for God's sake.
Anyway, I'm writing this to explain my absence and the lack of verbiage here. I don't know how I'll manage to keep this site updated, much less finalize the template I'm working on. That all depends on how I manage my time when I get there. I know many people in my position might excuse themselves by saying that they won't have enough time, but I don't buy it. We all have a way of making time for the things we love doing; I simply love writing. I'd even venture to say that I've been born with a passion for words and the vivid pictures they paint, the vicarious stories they tell, the thoughts and emotions they express, the way they stir us up, change us, and change the world.
So what will become of this, my creative writing outlet? I suppose we'll have to wait and see.
I've been invited to join an FD home on the outskirts of Toronto. I say outskirts because almost every time I insinuate that they are ("they" being the Torontinians...Oops. Excuse me.) living in Toronto they kindly remind me that they are not living in Toronto per se, but that they are living in the outskirts, urban area, name-of-the-municipality-that-I-can't-remember. Oh, for God's sake.
Anyway, I'm writing this to explain my absence and the lack of verbiage here. I don't know how I'll manage to keep this site updated, much less finalize the template I'm working on. That all depends on how I manage my time when I get there. I know many people in my position might excuse themselves by saying that they won't have enough time, but I don't buy it. We all have a way of making time for the things we love doing; I simply love writing. I'd even venture to say that I've been born with a passion for words and the vivid pictures they paint, the vicarious stories they tell, the thoughts and emotions they express, the way they stir us up, change us, and change the world.
So what will become of this, my creative writing outlet? I suppose we'll have to wait and see.
