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It is weird to revisit stories written. Kind of like wondering down the street you used to live on as a kid. There are a lot of memories bound up in the words. The gloss of nostalgia is tempered with the clarity of experience.
Its hard to say what my aim was with the stories I wrote. I do know that if i were to write them today they wouldn't be the same. Who knows maybe there is yet still another draft or two living inside of Living in surreality. Decimate it to the basics of the story, and build it back up stronger and better than what it is.
I spent too much time trying to emulate domluka, trying to mimic CJames. the truth is I can't. I get lost in Dom's interrelationship intricacies. I utterly lack Cj's flair for plot building and tension. So I have to wonder what am I left with? a characters personal struggles, seems the most obvious. Perhaps that is what I should focus on. Jacob and Matt both want to ditch there past. Poor Valerie is just along for the ride. She needs to fight harder against the change that rushes at her. Can she accept that change in the end and remain a friend? That seems a more compelling story than just a willing cheerleader.
But everyone needs a cheerleader, especially Matt who seems so left without.
And then there is Cody, suck waiting to find who is outside that door. Trouble with Cody is that everyone wants him, when he truly wants no one. I need to cut out all the chasing boys and focus on Cody. The big problem is I just don't know where to start.
from the beginning. Thats always the best place.
Its great to be alive people. We're rapidly approaching the new year and another birthday for me...yeah it's still a bit over a month away.
A little less than six months ago I hadn't posted a comment, or even a review. Now I have part of one story posted, and a three entries in what will be a collection of writing exercises.
At this point I see myself still an infant as a writer. Yeah I wrote when i was back at home in Bedrock and again after high school while studying at Cretaceous U., but as you might suspect that was a while back, and writing techniques and technology used to communicate have progressed a bit. My reference to good old CU and my mates back in Bedrock was to alude to the fact that personal computers, the internet, Google or Wiki*** did not exeist prior to 1983-4......Some of us look at today from the perspective of their caveman upbringing and are confused and disoriented.
I'm not computer illiterate by the way. in 2004 I was still hammering away at the Daily Granite. The endless grind of pedaling to work each day just to chisel out a meager living got to me.
I enrolled at an online university (one of the really ancient ones....had to use an old IBM thinkpad just to get to class and spent 2 years updating my work and study habits. In the process, I gained friends and contacts.
You're never too old to learn
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Today is supposed to be a new day. Better things are going to happen, or so i hope. Everyday i hope that whatever this is will pass. Yet i cant let go of the guilt that i am throwing my life away. I spend most of my days in bed, often forced out of it by the obligations of academic life. College feels like a form of torture because it reminds me of carelessness and callousness. I threw it away and didnt work hard enough for something. I watch as they as all whiz pass by, read articles on the net hoping to find a solution for this lack of motivation and fear of failure. I have spent hours in chatrooms trying to find people who would understand why i cant seem to fit in into the normal mould of enthusiatic and energetic individuals. I am tired of trying to talk about a demon i cant identify. I wish i had strength and drive.
My biggest desire was to be a perfect hypocrite. I wanted to pretend that everything was alright. I want to show the world that there is nothing troubling me. If only i werent viewed as weak and stupid. The irony lies in the fact that i care so much of what others think and yet i am pushing myself away from them.
Nonetheless, life has other plans.
There is another incident that leaves me terribly perturbed. A few weeks back, i came across a 5-6 year girl on the street at 9:30 pm. She was sitting in a dirty corner next to a weighing machine. There were many like her who were waiting for people like me to measure their weight and pay them a pittiance. It never ceases to amaze me as i watch them study in that dimly-lit street light while all alone against the world. I often wonder where this courage comes from? I seem to have none.
The little girl stopped me and asked me if i could buy her a pen. I was astonished at her courage. I would never dream of stopping a stranger with demands and yet, i saw this longing in her eyes as the word in her notebook was half-done. Where did all this strength come from? I wobbled uneasily to the shop and bought what she wanted. She thanked me and continued to write. I felt terrible as i walked back in wonder.
It left me wondering, "What am i doing with my life? Isnt there more to me than this sadness?"..The hue of guilt got brighter as the days passed in a flurry. Now i want to start over though i may not have done everything perfectly. I need to know what i want, not what my parents or friends want. Even if the path i choose will not be easy and i will face great problems, atleast i would have the satisfaction of screwing up on my own.
The question of "what do i want? why am i here?" have always bothered me and i still struggle to find meaning. Yet over time, as i begin to realize little by little about the things that make time seem irrelevant, i begin to rediscover myself again. I think guilt and doubt are so important in one's life. However, one needs to be honest. Sometimes i think that the years i have spent feeling so low had a reason. They forced me to think and stare harder at life. There is an indescrible surge of joy that one feels when one knows what to do with life. In my case, the driving factors of clarity were doubt and guilt. I hope that others find their's too. Its actually not that hard if you are honest with yourself and ask the right questions.
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So, we go through everyday, plowing through, avoiding hurting someone's feelings, but striving to make at least one individual feel better about themselves. That is a good thing. When you enter the door of GA, you enter into many lives, although you don't know it at that moment. As days go by, you go to the chatroom, make friends, read stories, posts, and statuses, and realise you have entered a whole different world. It is a world of uncertainty, fear, worry, but above all, a world of support for our youth. Although they do not know it when they enter this site, they have landed into a place of safety, comfort, and above all, support.
Not being arrogant, but Myr had no idea what he created when he nourished this site. Not only was it a site for authors to post stories, but it was a place of peace, comfort, relaxation for many, including myself. Youngsters, and older members like me will agree with me. I came here with a heavy heart because of my life long secret, looking for someone to tell me what to do,, how to handle it, etc. I found it, more then once. Over and over, I had more support than i ever dreamed was possible.
I wrote stories all my life, and eventually, I hope to post here, but the most important thing that I have found here is acceptance, whether you are a writer, editor, beta, or just a member. It is a haven of "be who you are".
So, saying that,, if you ever have doubt about supporting anything, Ga is a great cause. The youngsters here are absolutely unbelievable. Some say our younger generation are arrogant, slouchy, disrespectful, whatever. They need to come here and meet our youngsters. It is all because they have support, and I will suppport this site as long as possible and i hope there are many others like me. I want these youngsters to feel a firm support. This is just my rant everyone, but i applaud our youngsters here, and what this site does for them
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Well, this is another entry in my 'me thoughts' blog. This time it's about my fear or awkwardness of people and social situations.
I really don't like being around people. I'm really shy and anti-social. People and social situations scare me. I still don't know exactly how to deal with them. I'm always critical before, during and after the experience with myself when I talk to other people. I rather be alone. I don't have to be afraid of myself and I know what I'm thinking. I know me, it's easy to be with me. Whenever I talk to someone, I'm real scared. I'm too critical about myself and what I say and do. I don't have any real friends at all. Ever since I moved away in the 3rd grade, I've never really gotten any friends. I never got over that shy slump that happens when you move to a new place. I moved in 3rd grade............... and now I'm in 12th. I've had no one to tell my secrets, questions, fears, ideas, dreams or jokes to. Because of this, I've dealt with a lot of my problems by myself. I never needed anyone else before, why would I need someone now?
I watch a lot people from the afar. Just watching them interact. It's so easy for them to just talk and be happy with each other. I've never done that. Over the recent years, I've been distancing myself from family too. Even after I moved I was still me with them, but now, they're practically strangers to me. I just go sit in another room or go wander in the backyard, keeping to myself. I don't have any siblings my age. Maybe that attributes to something. Maybe, maybe not. When I think about having a good time with people, I want it to be just me and them, away from everyone else. I'm not much of a talker, nor do I want to be, so I just wanna listen. I just want to deal with people one at a time, that's not weird is it.
I'm scared of starting a conversation with people, especially people I'm 'friends' with. If I already know them, there's much more pressure than with a stranger, especially on GA chat. Do you know how hard it is for me to start a conversation with someone on a 1 to 1 level? Very. That one button click to start a private chat scares me. The pressure is on to be a good conversation buddy just so I have someone to talk to. I'd rather just leave the chat room or not have the conversation at all.
Within the past year or so, my shyness has been getting worse. Lately I'm shying away from my family, not feeling comfortable near them anymore. Worse, now I'm scared of GA chat. I'm more nervous around people and I panic if I see the chat population over 6 or if I feel like an outcast.
I can get really hurt with what people say to me whether or not they even meant it as criticism. Even if it's sarcasm or playful teasing. I get these waves of lots of fear and anxiety that come over me for pretty short periods of time (Like 10-20 seconds). I don't wanna call them panic attacks, because I don't think they are, I think. But anyway, when they happen I feel really bad and just wanna leave whatever situation I'm in. Sometimes I can't help but let out a few tears. It just happens and I can't help it when it does.
I'm wondering if I have some sort of tiny social anxiety. I don't wanna say I do, but, I'm really starting to wonder.
I know it's taking forever for me to get chapters up, but trust me... I am working on it. But I thought i would share a spoiler to hopefully tide you over.
Thank you everyone for all the support and well wishes as my husband and I go through this difficult time, so much love to you all.
(DISCLAIMER: this is not edited, it is also not formatted and not grammar or spelled checked, this is as raw and loose as it gets with me folks, so all you grammar nazi's can please just chill okay?")
I dashed through the field as the wind from the coming storm swept the tall grass tickling my fingertips. I leapt over the fence and through the trees to the willow. The water danced angrily reflecting the blackness of the sky in an infinite pattern as the wind rippled lines across the surface. The air felt empty in my lungs as the pressure dropped and night turned to day for an instant as the explosive crash of thunder rattled my chest.
I looked to his house in the distance and waited, believing hope against hope that he would come, he promised he would. Another flash blinded me as a bolt crashed into the field behind me and my fingers felt numb from the shock.
Suddenly the heavens opened and in moments I was soaked but everything was telling me to wait, I had to wait, he was going to come, he promised… he fucking promised!
I turned as two figures approached me from behind, they were closer than I realized, the wind was carrying their voices away. A sudden flash revealed Tiffany and Roger. Roger grabbed me and started to pull me away.
“NO!!!” I tried to get out of his grasp but he was much stronger than me.
“RYAN, WE HAVE TO GET INSIDE!!!” Tiffany screamed her voice muffled by the wind and rain.
“He said he would come, he promised!” I tried to reason with them.
“I’ll get him back to the house,” Roger said and I felt my feet lift off the ground and I watched as Roger pulled me away. We crossed through the woods and my heart felt like it would explode at any moment. The pain surged through me and tore past all thought and reasoning and into my soul.
“NO!” I elbowed Roger hard against his head and he dropped me, but I was up in an instant and took only a few steps back towards the willow, I could see it clearly in the dark…
The flash of lightning blinded me for a moment and I watched as it struck the top of the willow and raced though the body of the tree. The air seemed to catch on fire for a moment as the echoing crash of thunder doubled as the bark exploded clear off the trunk and she was ripped into two as branches ignited and rained down to the ground.
The force of the blast knocked me off my feet but I watched as the top of the willow seemed to hang in the air for a moment, before she fell lifelessly to the ground with a clamoring crash.
“I’m alright!” I shouted as Roger picked me up off the ground.
“I got you; it’s going to be okay!”
“I’m alright,” I yelled again and again but he couldn’t seem to hear me. I glanced back and in the distance where the willow once towered I saw nothing as the sky lit once again revealing the tempest above and below.
So this is the first time ive ever done anything like this, I'm not the best writer (as you will see lol!) and I doubt anyone will read this, but here goes...
I've only been a teacher for just over two years and the constant negative attitude of the media and the public is really starting to get to me. On the news tonight there was yet another story moaning about teachers and the lack of emphasis placed on English and maths in primary/elementary schools. I have taught in both Australia and the UK and the school day in both countries is already almost completely dedicated to both subjects. Everything else needs to be squished into the limited time available in the afternoon. Should there not be more of a balance? Do people not believe that it is important for children to learn about the world around them; to learn about world cultures, art, music, science, history and geography. They need to learn about the beliefs and values held by people all over the world, to help them understand different beliefs and accept difference. They need to learn to care and look after the environment, and to care and look after themselves.
Yes it is important that learn maths and English, but it should not be at the expense of other important lessons. Parents and non patents should want the next generations to be more aware of the world that they live in and to have the knowledge and understanding to shape it into a better place to live. This is why I became a teacher! Not to show them the proper place to use a semicolon, because in all honesty who cares!
Welcome back to my stable! Sorry for the long gap, but this colt has been a bit wooly. This is my first entry since I have come out of hospital again, and I'm in that strange space where I want to write but dont know where to start, so today's entry is probably a bit wooly like me. It has a point, and is sort of related to where I've come from and what's been going on, and sort of not. Please forgive my rambling and check back for later and better entries, but for the moment here it is.
Music, Pain and Redemption
One of the things about being in hospital for a long time is that you get really really bored, particularly if like I was at the start you cant do much for yourself. With a lot of my brain and body not working right frustration kicks in pretty hard.
One of the things I have been lucky with over my life is music. I have had the opportunity to listen to a massive array of music from an early age, legacy of a mother who was a music teacher, and later on learned to play several instruments. Music has been a part of my life ever since, almost as natural as breathing, and it has also been a part of my emotional life. For some reason, I learned how to let a piece of music get inside me till I could almost feel it in my heart, and ride the waves of sound like a bird. Not something I could really share with my school mates, way too daggy and out there, but something that gave me solace when I needed it most. Unable to do much for myself and not wanting to get too far inside my own head when there was plenty to worry about, I have reconnected with music as a listener, and a lot of my time in hospital has been spent immersed in a whole range of musical worlds.
A piece that captured me when I first heard it was Gorecki's third symphony. When I first found it, I was 14 and my life was so bad I wanted to die. Probably not promising circumstances to be listening to a piece called the Symphony of Sorrowful Songs. The work is something of an oddity, a contemporary symphonic work disappearing into obscurity when first composed in the late 70's, until a new recording released the year I was born 1992 suddenly and for no apparent reason became mainstream popular, selling over 1 million copies and becoming at the time the highest selling classical recording ever, well before Andre Rieu darkened the world.
The symphony sounds at first glance anything but the stuff popularity is made of. Comprising three movements, all of them slow and sombre, it explores the theme of motherhood and loss. Each movement is a reworking of a different polish folk melody with a solo soprano voice singing a song; the first and third movements' texts being laments of a mother for a lost son, the middle movement text is a farewell from a child to its mother, an inscription from the walls of Auschwitz not far from the composer's home.
I found the CD one day flipping through my mum's collection looking for something to try out, and it immediately took my soul, even before I knew anything about it. When I read its story, I guess it became even more a part of me.
At that time, everything in my life had crumbled. I had found that I had two mothers, but it seemed neither were happy with me as their son, a situation that time has not improved.
The first, who gave birth to me, but because of the circumstances wanted nothing to do with me, and I was put up for adoption immediately, without even a name. The one that was on my original birth certificate I found out was suggested by her mother, so at least I would have something. She came back into my life that year when I was 14 because of her own needs not through a desire to have anything to do with me, as I found to my cost, but her anger and bitterness had not abated and as the years have gone have hardened.
The second, who became my mum when I was 5 weeks old, but through a sense of obligation and her own unmet and unacknowledged needs wanted a son who would do her proud as she saw it, within the confines of her own standards. One who would be successful in everything, dutiful, but be just like the rest of my family in all ways, a clean slate to write her own lines upon. One who wasnt me as I found I could be, and definitiely not one who was into guys, even less one who would choose a guy as his life partner.
One had given me the gift of life, one gifts too numerous to list including the gift of music, but both had also given deep wounds that remain, and neither are a real part of my life at the moment though the door remains open.
In the midst of all that somehow listening to the third symphony made life better then and it still does now. When at my worst, I can listen to it and from the sadness and pain of the music comes a feeling of being uplifted, and lets me feel a sense of love enfolding and setting me free. Maybe I'm mad, maybe I lost myself tilting at windmills, but it works.
The most emotionally affecting part for me is the first movement. It begins with a long slow deeply moving canon, simple yet beautiful, building through the double basses, to the celli, violas and violins. Then, the canon halts, and in the middle, a solo voice appears, singing a 15th century lament in polish;
My son, my chosen and beloved
Share your wounds with your mother
And because, dear son, I have always carried you in my heart,
And always served you faithfully
Speak to your mother, to make her happy,
Although you are already leaving me, my cherished hope.
The voice comes through the orchestra with great beauty, then builds as the orchestra builds to a shattering moment on a high note on the final word, hope - then the canon returns at its highest, slowly unwinding until just the double basses remain.
The first time I heard it at that precise moment, hope, I lost myself and cried without meaning to , and without really understanding why as I did not understand the words. I still cry when I hear it, something about that moment makes the music, sad but strangely triumphant, and the words, take me over , filled with a sense of beauty amongst pain, triumph in adversity, and hope and certainty for love.
I had listened again this week and was still playing the music in my head, hesitantly as my memory isnt yet what it was, when I saw my mum enter my hospital room for the first time in ages, reluctantly it seemed, but steadily all the same. My boyfriend was by my side, but she came in anyway, after a whispered conversation with the nurse at the doorway.
She came up to my bed, and looked at me, then tried to speak but couldnt. Involuntarily, I think, she reached down to steady herself and clenched on to Daz's shoulder. Seeming to realise what she had done, she looked my boyfriend in the eye, and gave a quick smile that reached her eyes. "He looks stronger. That's good. I will leave you two to it." And then she walked out. A small step, maybe a tiny one, but that is sometimes all you need.
My son, my chosen and beloved
Share your wounds with your mother
So I still hope, and I still struggle. Fifteen years that piece went with maybe thousands hearing it, before it was ready to resonate with people when its time had come. I don't know if I will ever be able to be what either of my mothers need, but thats not what matters to me so much anymore. I still listen to Gorecki, and I still feel the swell of emotion, but now the hope means more. One day I think, one day before it is too late, they may come to feel that way for me as I am, with all my faults but also all my strengths, and know me as I am. Till then, hope and love, will remain biding their time.
If anyone is interested, I have included a youtube link to the first movement.
About 13:00 is where the middle voice section starts, and about 16:00 is where I start to lose it. By 16:30 Im gone.
I'd like to reply to all of you who gave me advice and messaged me on my last entry, but things have been crazy and I'd feel like an idiot replying so late in the game. Still, I'd like to thank you all very much! It means a lot to me. Here's what happened in the wake of my last entry:
My brother agreed to report to the police, and we've been busy with legalities the last few weeks, so that's why I haven't been on so much. The names of underage assault victims apparently aren't published, so we can keep this under wraps pretty well from prying eyes.
My mom and brother had a long talk. I don't know what transpired, but things seem better now.
Again, I cannot stress enough that my family's fine with him being gay. Yes, even my dad took it surprisingly well. I guess I don't know the guy well enough, or he'd already been through it with me. Either way, it's a relief.
My brother got smarter about hiding his damn diary.
I also went to a vocal competition in the South. Fourth place, yay! I didn't get a medal or anything, but the competition was tough, so I'm proud I just did it.
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I've decided to drop my story Only You so it's going to be discontinued and taken off of the account. I'm working on something I feel is closer to who I am and I can no longer identify myself with the work. I'm sorry to those who were looking for some more and that's why I haven't been so active here. I'm sorry. I want to approach a different genre of work that is psychological horror. It has no hero or enemy and is more like an outsider watching different stories. The first novel I'm going to work on is "Dolls". Here's a summary:
After a number of young boys have been reported missing, a young detective finds himself travelling out into Ilkey Moor to a large mansion called “The Dollhouse” where a doctor “converts” young boys into dolls by amputation one or many of their limbs, cutting out their tongues and dressing like girls. When the detective meets the doctor, he falls in love. Will he be able to finis his case or be caught in the doctor’s web?
I will post it when I feel I have a good amount of it done.
Houston is my current home. I live in what the City and county now refer to as a Suburban region, although I live within 7 miles of Houston's city hall.
The area of town I live in is politically very conservative. My house is one of over 200 in my neighborhood. The neigborhood is surrounded by
sprawling ultraconservative, and what the EU would call Posh vanity villages of ultrawealth.
My neighborhood is modest, near poverty when comparing.
Now, as most of you know, The end of June historically is reserved for celebrating Gay Pride. Here in Houston Pride week is June 17-23 with our nightime parade
scheduled for the 23.
Well in a couple of days I once again will celebrate the season by hanging a rainbow flag in a window. Boring I know, but at least I won't find hate literature or wors
marking my property.
To change the subject.....I have one distant neighbor.
He is distinguished to myself and a girl friend, by his occasional
I put in a new garden this spring. This neigbor passed one morning as I labored and
commented I was wasting my time.
The bed is being overrun by what you might claim as a flower, a morning glory, but here they are an invasive weed.
He commented to my girlfriend what an eyesore my garden was....
I plan some morning around 4 am to hang signs in his yard designating it as
an unofficial dog park, and poopzone if you will.
What are your thoughts?
Most of the time I don't feel like I really fit in here on GA. In simple terms I don't understand how to interact with others on here. I've been told quite a lot from numerous people that I almost seem like I don't want to talk or I seem cold or uninterested or that I'm being a rude bitch. Maybe it's because I'm treated like a 10year old child by some, yet I've been in the "adult world" for about 4 years now, longer then some 25year olds. I may only be 16 but I'm sick of the excuses of your still a child or your still so young or you haven't lived your life yet.
I get angry at a lot of you, maybe its my own self hatred spilling out but just little things start to irritate me and then it grows.
I'm sorry to anyone on here who I may have made them feel uncomfortable or upset them or been unintentionally rude to, that is never my intention when I've tried to talk to anyone.
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I've been waking up lately with an odd feeling. Almost extremely emotional and never in a good way. I think it's pretty much confusion of what really happened and didn't. Even weirder, I've been constantly having dreams and I can remember them in vivid detail days later. Usually I remember elements and everything just fades away... but I can remember pretty much everything except dialogue. I don't know why, but maybe if I get them out in the open, I'll calm down a bit.
My first dream had to do something with my boyfriend. I don't remember why or how, but we started arguing. Now, I'm never one to get upset really. Everyone tells me religiously that I'm never mad and when I explain a situation that did make me upset, they act surprised. Thing is, when I do get upset, I blow up. I never care whats around me, who's around me, who I'm talking to, nor do I care the consequence of my actions. That's what was happening in this dream. I wasn't upset when I went to sleep and we haven't argued in the slightest since we moved last month so I don't know where this could have stemmed from. The one thing I do know is that when I woke up, I was furious. Somehow I kept all the frustration and anger from my dream and brought it out into real life. He asked me if I wanted breakfast and told me good morning and everything but I just wanted him to go away. I was soooo mad at him. At the time, I didn't remember I had the dream and it took me later in the day to remember it... but I found it hilarious that I was mad at him over a dream.
The second one was more emotional. Pretty much stated it before that I fell in love with my childhood best friend and I had my first experience with him. Thing is, he's straight and I apologized the next day because we were both intoxicated (and he was the one advancing...). At the time, it didn't really work since he was kind of upset about it but we ended up working it out and hung out a few times. It wasn't really awkward and I ended up losing my attraction to him for the most part. I love him, but in a different way. Now though, I haven't spoken to him in about 2 years now except for two occasions where it wasn't even us hanging out.
The dream though... it wasn't a 'wet dream' or anything like that. We just kept doing it. >_> I have no idea why I was dreaming this as I really have no want to do that with him, but it kept happening randomly and he would go in and out of being upset and wanting more. Maybe because I'm confused on why he approached me the time we had but calls himself straight. I don't know. I feel weird about that one though.
Now I'm having ones of my ex-roommate and ex-boyfriend and on and on... Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm not working for the first time since I was 17 and I have a lot of free time. Maybe if I were busy and hanging out with people or something, my mind would have less time to think about this stuff? I don't know. It's weird. I don't really like it. :\
So GA has managed to yet again chase away another long time author (dkstories) away from the site. Yeah, I have been here long enough to remember the last major "schism" some members created because of 'differences'...
Of course, who chased him away? Other so-called 'authors' from this site.
Your conduct is beyond appalling and yet YOU are the ones who are calling for civility. Yeah, I don't believe you.
Because if it was between reading dkstories or your stories, I would read dkstories every single time.
Since this is not the first time this has happened, I say that maybe it's not ME but YOU. (you know who YOU are)
Foreward: Sometimes, writer's block blows. To try and rid myself of the horrid block, I like churning out purposefully-horrid writing. It gets my fingers into typing patterns and helps me clear my head.
Story of Ryan
Ryan looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were as dark as gold on a mountain prairie morning and they glittered with beautiful, beautiful emotion. His lips were stuck in a permanent pout, something many people off the street would often gaze at and it would make them lose their balance and fall into the gutter because they loved them so much. His lips, I mean.
So it's time for school, I guess.
I am 16 and so completely sure of myself and even though I am a teenager I have the vocabulary and grammar skill of an adult with four plus years of intense English classes.
I open the doors to my new school. I just transferred from my old school because of a bad, bad, horrible accident that for some reason I can't remember because it was probably so horrible that I would die if I ever remembered, but consequently the accident has everything to do with the plot of this story so I will eventually remember it. I look at the doors. They are made of mahogany and shine, very glossy. They weigh as much as two full-grown pigs at the farm back home and I struggle a bit to push them open but after the first few inches, they suddenly become very easy to open and I almost fall forward trying to push them open but catch myself at the last minute. The doors shine bright brown in the morning sun and the glare almost blinds me. I am entranced by the beauty of these doors. They have intricate patterns carved into them and glow all colors of the rainbow it's like they're a magical portal to a new world or something, man.
I gaze at the man trying to open the doors to the school. My name is Chad McVelefried von Schnitzenschnau and I am the jockiest jock in the history of Hermanton High ever. He stumbles a bit when he opens the door but catches himself. Even though I am the epitome of a straight man ever and have all the traits the ladies would drool over, I am suddenly really gay for this guy and want him. Even though he stumbled and keeps on staring at the doors like they're something awesome.
"Hello new kid." Chad spits at Ryan. But not literally, it's just in the tone of his voice. "I hope I never catch you like this again or you're gonna get the wedgie of your life."
I cry as the jock picks on me. And on the first day of school! He was so hot, too. I thought I might get a new chance at this new school, because my life sucked at my last school and something really bad happened, but it looks like this is just going to be the same old shit as before. Just great.
What have I been up to?
Let me list it off.
Drabble A Day: I started a fanfiction Drabble a Day on my birthday, March 26. I'm into Week 3 now and on drabble 17, which I'll write tomorrow. I nearly have enough pairings to last me the year.
National Novel Writing Month: I won 2011 NaNoWriMo, again. I wrote a fanfiction called 'Like a Bullet' and it is a fanfiction since all of my original ideas at the time were in production. I'm currently finishing off typing it and editing chapter 9. There's something like 20 to 30 very long chapters for this one.
A Butterfly's Dream: I am still indeed editing this story but it is slow going since I'm not sure how I want to end it just yet. I'm also working on A Butterfly's Dance (prequel) and A Butterfly's Flight (sequel). MTPictures, my friend who owns one of the characters I do use in my stories, is working on The Demons Toy 2.
Crimson Shadows: Finished and posted at 21 chapters. That was fun.
Crimson Shadows sequel: I know I'm planning on calling it "Merry Frickin' Christmas" (being nice enough to change that middle word there) and have an idea of what to write.
Midnights Taste: This story spawned from the bunny that spawned Like a Bullet. I have about 2 chapters written, the prologue complete, somewhat. It's going to take time for this one to come out since I have some major ideas for it and I want it to read a certain way. Unfortunately, psychological horror is a new world for me. Hack and slash, paranormal...not so much. Psychological horror yes.
Essays for my Muse 1: I have started to post this series here. The first chapter will be posted this coming Friday and then for four fridays after, the other four chapters I have edited will post. Got to love that nifty little feature.
Essays for my Muse 2: Killers and Murders: I am already planning out what I'm doing for the second round. I have 8 killers/murders/mysteries jotted down. The Blood Countess (Ezebet Bathory otherwise known as Elizabet Bathory), Teh Taman Shud Case (suggested by a friend and this one makes me giggle like a school girl), Mary Ann Cottom, Genene Ann Jones, Ruth Snyder, Marie Hilley, and Nannie Doss are all on my list for the moment. I'm going to collect somewhere between 10 to 30 choices to write about.
Essays for my Muse 3: Paranormal, Supernatural and Cryptids: Part 3 of this series will focus on hauntings, creatures and other such things like that. I just have to figure out just what I'm going to do. I know that I'm going to do mythical creatures like dragons, fairies, vampires and the such, but it will extend beyond what is widely known and dip into some not so known subjects. Just a matter of time.
General life: I am planning on moving from where I currently live to Kentucky with a friend of mine. She has been here for me through thick and thin just like I have for her and I just need to move, both for my health and my mothers. She's kinda bad off right now. My mom officially has arthritis in her back along with spinal spurs, so it makes it hard for her to move around. She can still take care of herself, just adds to her pain.
General Life cont.: My own knee has been acting up like no tomorrow and I have no idea why. So I need to head to my doctor next month, when I have some cash, and check that out. Along with my heel that feels like something is slicing through the skin. Throbs like you wouldn't believe.
Anyways, outside of that, not a whole lot has happened.
- Drabble A Day: I started a fanfiction Drabble a Day on my birthday, March 26. I'm into Week 3 now and on drabble 17, which I'll write tomorrow. I nearly have enough pairings to last me the year.
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I think it’s safe to say that we’ve all done it. We’ve all had a few more drinks than necessary, looked around the bar at happy couples dancing, or reacted to a song that triggers some special memory, and wondered, “Why in the hell am I single?”
We tend to forget the details of the exact scenario- who said or did what to whom, whose fault it was, etc. because the details become a blur through all of the alcohol. Then it happens. We reach for our cell phones.
We (if you’re a gay guy) may scroll through the online profiles on Grindr, but at this point that’s not going to provide the emotional healing we need. So we do the next easiest thing- we go to our contacts list. Mistake.
We scroll down to a number that we should have (ideally) deleted a long time ago, or to a number of a new acquaintance that we hope might become ‘the one’. There’s no filter on our emotions; the vodka has drained us of that pleasantry. We decide that just ‘checking in’ will be enough to satisfy our immediate need for attention, but we honestly know that won’t be enough either. It doesn’t stop us.
This is the point where I’m going to stop assuming that our experiences are quite similar and relay my own personal incident.
A while back I was surrounded by a few friends and a ton of acquaintances who were (seemingly) happily paired up. I heard the words ‘my man’, ‘boyfriend’, and ‘love’ being tossed about quite a bit. In the midst of a good time, it reminded me that I had never experienced ‘love’ (although I’m certain well over half of the couples surrounding me haven’t either, need I remind you there was alcohol?). Certain, thanks to Grey Goose-sponsored confidence, that the contact who’s name I’d been staring at for the past two Katy Perry songs would be able to provide me that love, I sent a text knowing good and well that I stopped responded to this person earlier in the week because I could feel that it wasn’t going to work out.
I don’t remember what I said, or what he replied with, but there was a string of messages exchanged, each screaming of my loneliness. I was lowering my standards and self-worth out of desperation, hoping that maybe the things I disliked about him would change. It’s unlikely that he picked up on any of my feelings (denseness, I now remember, was one of the reasons I ended it before it began). He probably assumed it was nothing more than miniscule conversation. Regardless, the next morning I was mortified.
Pitying myself, I confided in a friend who swiftly told me to get a grip. He explained that it was natural to lean on someone during a moment of weakness. I informed him that I fully understood his Oprah-esqe words of encouragement, but that I still couldn’t figure out why I didn’t have that special someone to be around me when I needed them. And then came the last thing I needed- a reality check. “Because you don’t stick with the same person long enough for someone to be around you.”
What a slap in the face, huh? I mean, I’ve grown accustomed to my friends calling me a hoe by now, but this time things really impacted me. Probably because he was mostly right. To recap my relationship cycle: meet boy, have sex with boy, find flaw in boy, get rid of boy. Rinse and repeat. It was completely my fault that I was alone, yet there I am at the bar being depressed for that very reason.
Now, I know what you’re thinking- don’t get rid of boy, all humans have flaws, blah, blah, blah. You can go pen a book with Dr. Phil. In theory that sounds like a plausible solution, and it would probably land me a boyfriend, but there are valid reasons I ditch these guys. I’m not one of those people who digs for the slightest reason to run for the door. Legitimate concerns over lifestyle choices and particular personality traits are important to me and I believe that I’d never be at my full potential happiness if I ignored any of them.
I guess you could say that I’m a proponent of asking questions first and falling in love later. Well, after that incident I decided to reverse my way of thinking and see if I couldn’t allow myself to completely fall for someone without knowing a whole lot about them. Mistake number two.
For a while it was wonderful not having to analyze people and their pathetic attempts to woo me. I was exhausted from probing for the truth about one’s motivations and this phase allowed me to be free from all of that and just accept the fact that I was on the verge of having someone that would be around during those times (like at the bar) when I needed them.
Sure enough, though, some of those same personality traits that I was always so careful to scout out in the past started popping up. What should I do? Ignore them for a while? Check. Attempt to address them? Okay. Bolt? Done. When I was becoming dissatisfied with the situation and feeling- dare I say it?- hurt by some of the guy’s actions, I had to leave, and this time it upset me a lot more.
Back to the ol’ cycle then, right? Wrong. During this little excursion into the unknown I realized that the ‘love’ I felt before this guy’s real personality started coming out was worth finding again- even if that means getting hurt a little more in the process. So I went about my life with an open mind and wouldn’t you know it, a terrific guy comes along. This is where I’m at now.
Once again I’m in that ‘love’ stage, but quite a bit deeper into it than the last time. A portion of me keeps waiting for something to creep out from under the floorboards and ruin it all, but a majority of me says, “Not this time! This guy is too good.” Is he really? Who knows? I sure don’t. What I do know is that every minute I spend with him- or even thinking about him- fills me up enough that I can sit at that bar, alone, watching all of those happy couples dancing and beam from ear to ear.
Back to assuming: Why in the world did you just read this is what you’re probably thinking. Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer for you, but the theory of reciprocity is in play and I feel obligated to give you something. So here’s a video of Anne Potts in a pop corn commercial.
In the finance world, we aspire to be hedge fund managers, masters of the universe of the the highest order.
In medicine, (I suppose) we aspire to run hospitals and become like the woman Dr. House likes.
In law...we aspire to be megafirm partners. Though money is pretty much capped and you don't get to be a master of the universe, you can still make it as a major-domo of a moderately-sized galaxy.
These are their stories. (all anecdotes taken from abovethelaw.com)
Disclaimer: I still haven't gone to law school yet, so I can only dream from far far away. Don't ask me for career advice.
For starters, aspiring young lawyers, please work hard and get those firm jobs, stay the 100-hour weeks, so you can make partner and send emails like this:
From: (Chicago Partner)
To: All Firm Lawyers
Subject: Financial Advisor In St. Louis
Message: I am looking for a financial advisor in St. Louis to provide advice to a friend who is about to receive what, to her, is a huge amount of money (some $500g). Any recommendations would be appreciated.
Let's ponder this for a moment and visualize the golden fantasy of having so much money that $500,000 is something you can throw away at a casino or at a homeless person.
Or how about this. Susan Webster, the head of Corporate Practice at the ancient and most noble house of Cravath, Swaine and Moore (one of Wall Street's top law firms), gives her associates huge cuts in spring bonuses but does the following.
While attending a meeting, Webster introduces herself to another Big law partner. The other partner says, “Oh thanks for the bonus, it really was great.” Susan smiles and says, “Yeah I know.”
She then complains about associates who want spring bonuses.
Finally, remember it doesn't have to be all work and no play. A megafirm partner was seen at the "classy" Larry Flynt's Hustlers Club recently. This partner is in charge of his firm's summer associate program, is said to bill over 3,500 hours a year. Apparently, he told the club manager to "take care of my friends"--associates from his firm who spotted him sitting with other regulars of the club.
So it's not all bad up there in the clouds. Put in your hours, stay those Saturday nights. Hell, sleep in the office. Apparently, when you make it, you make it.
All of them have boats bigger than your house (probably).
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Once upon a time… That’s how these things start, right? The line that starts the whole story. After that, nothing else even matters but getting to the happily ever after. I used to think I could see mine, out there on the horizon, but each time I think I’ve got it in my sights, something happens that shows me differently.
The settings and circumstances change, characters come and go, and there’s plenty of romance and drama to make it interesting. Even if you could predict how it ended, it’s so much fun to get there that you wouldn’t want to miss a thing, wouldn’t change a thing. And in the end, that’s what matters… that you lived and loved with your whole heart.
No matter how much or how well I plan, no matter how much I might work toward it or want it, the truth is that happiness is elusive, evolving, ever-changing. It’s conditional and comprehensive and you haven’t got a chance at actually attaining it without perspective. It’s different for each person, without justification, and the same. We’re all searching for it.
We pack up our hopes and dreams in our knapsacks, swing them over our shoulders, and head out into the great big world in search of it. Things happen on our quest, as they inevitably will, that make us change what we think will make us happy. Force us to examine our original plan or dream and decide if it’s still worth pursuing, if it’s still the thing that’s going to make us happy and whole.
So often, people hit a wall, and instead of figuring out how to get over it or around it, they just turn around and go back the way they came. We justify it to ourselves, the giving up, by telling ourselves that we were mistaken, that we didn’t really want that after all. The truth is it was too much work to learn to climb the walls. It was easier to just walk away.
That entire idea is absurd. Of course, we don’t know that then. Not only are we walking away from our dreams and our potential happiness, but we leave little pieces of ourselves behind every time we do. Living our lives as a fraction of our whole selves isn’t easy or conducive to finding the happily ever after we’ve been looking for. Worse, it’s actually more work in the long term to continually have to convince ourselves that we happily left those pieces behind.
Sometimes, actually, a lot lately, I wonder how much one person can take before they give up. It’s been said that you’re only given as much as you can handle at one time. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I’ve been given an extraordinary amount. Definitely more than any one person’s fair share, then again, as I was often reminded as a child, life isn’t fair.
My life has fallen apart so many times now that I’ve lost count. Not really, but I don’t like to recount them. It’s not a contest and no one knows the rules. Does the scoring work like golf or like bowling? Does the survivor of the worst situation win, or is it the person who never had to find a way to exist in spite of the worst happening?
Being a party to the first group, having set aside my dreams repeatedly for the good of the cause, literally learning things the hard way, and learning to breathe with a broken heart makes a good case for the people in group number two. Still though, I wonder. In return for survival, I’ve earned an appreciation for making the most of each moment, for putting my whole heart and self into everything I do, being genuine, and the value of true happiness. That’s definitely got value, and it’s something the people in group number two will never have.
Without perspective, and a heap of optimism, it’s fair to say that a lot of people who have suffered some upheaval in their lives miss the things they were supposed to learn at the time. And that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Learning the lessons, learning from the experiences, growing as a human being, and finding happiness. Not that it’s easy to remember that in the moment.
Often it comes to us in flashes, tiny pieces of clarity and knowledge that we grab on to and use to pull ourselves out of the ugly hole of despair. It’s a slippery slope, and for some, it takes years and a Sherpa to find their way out. Even with a trail of breadcrumbs and trail signs, it’s one of the most difficult journeys a person will ever make. One would think the third or fourth, or even the fifth time, you’d know the way out, but it doesn’t work that way. No one ever said life was for the faint of heart.
I rummaged through one drawer in my mom’s old, cherry wood jewelry box that sat atop my dresser before moving to another until I found it. It wasn’t in great shape when I pulled it out from amongst the old watches, the matching one I’d gotten for him a month later, and the shamrock pin I wear once a year. Tarnished and so scratched from years of wear, you could barely make out my name where it had been engraved on the front.
Still, I turned it over and read the inscription on the back of the very first gift he’d ever given me. It was to celebrate my 16th birthday and our one month anniversary. An ID bracelet, simple and silver, with a message straight from a heart experiencing those first delirious moments when you fall so crazy in love for the first time.
I wanted to wear it again, to remind me of what we once had, what we could have again, if he can find his way back to me. A reminder to soothe myself with hope when I’m so scared that we’ll never get it back, and because it’s the closest I’ve been to feeling his love in weeks.
I squeezed a little toothpaste into my hand and rubbed it between my palms a second before cleaning the bracelet the best way I knew how in the absence of any silver polish and wondered if he’d even remember giving it to me, remember what it said. Eventually, I silently admitted to myself that I hoped it reminded him of what he’d promised me all those years ago.
Forever yours. Love, Rich.
Hours later, when I was serving dinner, our daughter, Annemarie, just weeks from turning sixteen herself, noticed it and asked, “What is that bracelet?”
Unsure if I was relieved that she wasn’t complaining about the peas I was putting in front of her, or suddenly nervous that Rich had taken notice now also, I vaguely answered, “It’s mine. I’ve had it a while,” and handed Rich a plate of beef stroganoff that he eyed cautiously. He doesn’t like mushrooms or sour cream, but he’d have to actually speak to me to find out if it contained either. Instead, he just ate it.
Like any typical teenage girl who is all wrapped up in her own life, she let it go, and in an effort not to let me down, went on to complain about the peas. It was a welcome piece of normalcy, something I could count on in the chaos that had become my life. Besides, I like peas and beef stroganoff.
It’s equally horrifying and comforting to know where Rich and I were in our lives at her age, and knowing that she’s so far from that place. We were so sure at sixteen that we had it all figured out, or if not, that we’d conquer the world together. We’d show them, prove them all wrong. What the hell did we know?
There are two types of people in this world. The type who crumble in the face of a crisis, who panic and act without thinking, who let their fear and their emotions control their behavior and decisions, and then there’s the other. These remaining people are the logical type. They keep their heads when times get tough, are always thinking their way through several scenarios until they find the best one, and easily separate their emotions from their thought process.
That’s not to say that these logical thinkers don’t have emotional reactions to things. They certainly do, it would be inhuman not to. They just typically don’t act on them. As it turns out, intuition and emotional responses don’t usually lead us down the smoothest or the safest path. Certainly not the smartest.
Typically, it’s the outbursts of anger, the confessions of love made with such bravado, and the feeling as if you’ve just had the wind knocked out of you leaving you with a horribly painful sadness where you would normally find oxygen that can create the biggest opportunities to make the worst moves. I would have said decisions, but to be decisive requires thought, consideration, and evaluation.
Being a logical mind can be both a phenomenal power and a crippling weakness. To know that you’ll always know what to do and how to go about getting it done, to take things literally and to be able to count on that as a constant, and to feel the comfort that logic is your default setting can be immensely comforting in a world that changes faster than many of us can keep up with. Consequently, it makes it a major difficulty to let that default setting go and find enjoyment in basic things.
Personally, I can’t make it through most cartoons. Even if I could overlook the fact that there are talking animals who can lift anvils that weigh twenty times their own body weight or drive cars along the ocean floor, what I cannot discount is that the responses those cartoon characters have to whatever circumstances they find themselves in, become moot, ridiculous, illogical.
Instead of being entertaining, it’s frustrating. Possibly as frustrating as being the person on the couch next to me watching a movie or a TV show. Perhaps it comes from my depth of life experience, or because I’m a writer and a storyteller, or because, as logical as I am, I’m more in touch with my emotions and the emotions of those around me than most people, but whatever the reason, when I can predict the ending, most people would say there’s no point in watching anymore.
I disagree, for it’s there, in that moment when we’ve connected with that character enough to know what will happen in their future, that we learn about ourselves. How would we act or feel in that situation? What would we do? What would our next move be? Little lessons and explorations that can be learned and taken without consequence. A free pass.
Logical people watch everything, analyzing, organizing, forming patterns. They are supervisory and certain about what they feel is right or wrong. These people are easily adaptable and energetic, have a keen eye for details, and typically, a logical person is the decision maker. They are realists.
I’m not sure anyone but a logical personality could understand what it feels like to be faced with a situation that is anything but logical. To be able to do nothing to make it right or organize it so it can be dealt with. To be the one not making the decisions. There are no ‘right’ answers; there are no ways to best this dragon. The only thing there is in bountiful quantities is a frightening feeling of helplessness.
After 19 years, Rich has decided he's not in love with me anymore, started sleeping with a girl he works with, and has destroyed my dreams, my marriage, broken my heart, and crushed my children's entire existence with his selfishness.
After 19 years, I've crossed more things off my 'I Never Want To Experience This' List than my bucket list. Here's one more: I'm getting divorced.
I like blogging. I like just sitting around and thinking or chatting about a topic. Writing out my thoughts is nice because it helps me frame them in a more concrete way. It's nice just doing it in my head, but it's more fun and more satisfying on a computer screen...not on a piece of paper, physically writing sucks. Typing is nice though. Anyway, over the years I've grown thoroughly attached to this site and its members and whatever else I'm doing in my life I still enjoy a place to just sit and thing, and type about it, so I figure it might as well be here.
A few short updates about my life since I figure that's the least I can do before I ramble about inconsequential topics. The boyfriend and I are doing well, in exactly a week it'll be two years. Work is lovely this time of year. This is our slowest time of year, and since I work from home anyway, it mostly means that I can sit around all day doing whatever I like as long as I keep one eye and ear on my work computer. Not a prob
I've been enjoying my hobbies quite a bit as well. It's very hard to avoid reading. Despite being a technophobe I opted to get an Amazon Kindle (I once started a thread on these in the Lobby when they first came out! :-P) as well as finally jumping on the Ipod wagon. So anyway, I adore the Kindle, strongly prefer it to physical books. I go through a couple of books a week, which is a lot for me given what a slow, methodical reader I tend to be. Interestingly though, I also tend to read more on the Ipod than I listen to music or do anything else. The graphics, browser, and interface are much better on the Ipod (which I think is called an Ipod Touch) than they are on the Kindle. Which is fine because I didn't want the Kindle to be flashy and distracting. I kind of want it to be only good for reading books (and buying new ones), because that's all I want to do on it. So I read the books on the Kindle, but I've found that "web reading" is so much better on the Ipod than it is on the Kindle or the computer screen. The thing I don't like about reading for hours on a laptop that you're stuck with this big, heavy, bulky thing. A tiny handheld reading device like the Kindle or Ipod (or *gasp* a real book) is way better to read on. So with its flashy browser capabilities the Ipod is ideal for handheld reading...but yeah I keep getting distracted with games, music, and the rest of the internet when I use it, so I'm glad the Kindle's there for more hardcore reading.
Anyway all this reading has, unsurprisingly resparked my desire to write so I've taken that back up again. Unfortunately I have to admit that I don't really plan to post the stuff here. I'm hoping to attempt real life publishing and as a last result might try eBook publishing. In any case I don't intend to do it for years. I'm working on a series of books and I have no intention of publishing anything, or even showing it to anyone, until I have like the first four or five completely finished. That way I can make them as complicated as I would like since I can go back and add/remove things to all the previous stuff. I find that when I post online on a chapter by chapter basis, even if I'm pretty far ahead, I end up wishing I could change something, but it's too late (or at least feels too late) since it's already "out there." I'd really want to shoot myself if I had a great idea in book four that was being precluded by something I'd written in book one. So yeah, gonna wait and work a long time on these before they see the light of day.
This winter has been surprisingly pleasant. One of the best ones I've had in years. I've been lazy and energetic, like I get every winter, but I've avoided the anhedonia and enveloping numbness this year. Granted, I haven't felt like going out and partying, but at least I've felt like staying in and reading and writing rather than being disinterested in everything and marking time till spring.
The boyfriend and I have been living together about a year and a half now. Overall it's been remarkably smooth and pleasant. The main conflict comes from the fact that I'm a really tidy, organized person. I really am the sort of person who has a place for everything. I don't own any items that I leave in random places. What's more, I don't even acquire new items unless I can mentally figure out where I'll be keeping them. I definitely like for all items to go back to their designated places at the end of every use. The boyfriend on the other hand is the sort of person who picks something up, uses it, and then just puts it down wherever he happens to be. He'll think nothing of leaving the soy sauce sitting on the coffee table or at his desk indefinitely. That really doesn't work for me. I'm also the sort of person who won't even think about going to bed until everything is put away. Him on the other hand, when he gets tired that's it. Since I have to go to bed earlier than he does for work, that means that every morning I end up cleaning and tidying. Somehow I'm still always shocked by it too. My god! he left his half full glass of tea on the table next to saran wrap from something he opened! Somehow this just shocks me more than it annoys me. I couldn't have slept knowing it was out there if I were him.
I'm also generally just a great deal more organized than he is. I got really ticked off last month because he just up and told me that we had to drop everything and go visit his mom for her birthday. I like his mom, I agree that it's important to visit family for special occasions. What annoyed me is that I had zero notice, and why? Not because he forgot to tell me (although he probably would have ), but because he forgot her birthday was coming up at all. He hadn't known at all until his dad texted him. That also meant of course that he didn't have a present, and although I tried to insist that we just go pick something up on the way, he refused because "he doesn't like to get things just to get them. It has to be something he knows the person will like" and he didn't have any ideas. Which is fine, quite thoughtful actually, but that ship had sailed and personally I would have rathered gotten something nice, but generic than shown up empty handed.
Of course I'm not trying to make him sound bad or difficult to be with; he's certainly not. He's very thoughtful and agreeable. He's also quite a lot less set his ways than I am, and in all honesty he puts up with nagging, neurotic requests far better than I could put up with similar such things from someone like me. If he were as particular as I am about how things are done and where they go then we never could have put up with each other.
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2011 turned out to be the 'Year of Fitness' for me. I totaled everything up, and it's actually quite staggering now that it's all there in one place.
Gym Workouts - 452
Running Sessions - 332 (for 2,117 miles)
Rollerblading Sessions - 64 (for 644 miles)
Road Biking - 48 (for 768 miles)
Total - 896
My main goal was running 2000 miles, so I was happy that I surpassed that.
I'm going to tone things down a bit for 2012. For running, I plan on reducing my mileage to work on my speed.
I also realize that I've neglected my social life, so I'll try to focus more on that instead of fitness.
So within the next couple of days, I'll come up with my goals for 2012.
Hope you all had a good 2011 and that you accomplished the things you wanted to.
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My last post here was Nov 30, 2010. That's more than a year ago.
Two weeks ago, I got on a plane back home for the holidays. A week ago, I had the strange feeling of going backwards, and I realized that it was nostalgia bred by having time for myself to catch up to myself, or maybe by boredom. A few nights ago, I reread domluka's Desert Dropping. Now I'm here.
It's funny how it's these internet stories, more than anything else, that have created a world that feels almost private to me. Domluka is one of them, and this fellow Jason Locke who wrote Searching for Christophe and Shadow People is another. I don't know how I'd feel about their stories if they were printed out and made into a book. It's precisely that these are internet texts that gives them this kind of feeling, for me. Unlike books which are tangible and printed, these words can blink on and out of existence quite easily. And their authors can disappear more thoroughly. I'm not quite sure how to explain it, or maybe, having explained it, explain the appeal. Maybe the appeal is incidental, and it's only because these stories were the ones I read when I was younger, and they happened to be in the internet.
It's been ages since I wrote a story. I took a look at the ones I had on this site, and I feel very fondly for all of them, but didn't particularly want to reread any of them. I think the idea of writing a story is almost a fantasy in itself. It's like falling in love with love, to use the cliche. There *should* be a version of things, a world to exist, which reproduces the current one and yet is better -- but the tangibles of this imagined world are something else altogether. But maybe this is the subject I should be writing about, except that it's a bit too... metaphysical, I guess. Metaphysics are depressing inherently.
But it's so nice to be on this site again! Of course, just typing that previous sentence feels a bit like Norma Desmond, but anyhow -- all you people in the dark, happy holidays, and many wishes towards more writing out of Domluka.