Happy Halloween

Perhaps one of the more weirder posts I've made since I currently have a cat's butt in my face as I type. Down Oscar, DOWN! You make more typos than I do! No... no, stop going for the beef jerky. You're not getting any of it. No! ... Okay maybe just a little piece. ... ... ... Aww, so cute. HEY! When you want me to pet you, you do not bit my forearm.

Bah, swelling, need to put some rubbing alcohol on that later.

Anyway, an uneventful day, to say the least. Went to school, came back home, and enjoyed my restful afternoon. Not before attending a Writing Workshop from my very own teacher, of course. This was by far the largest group I'd ever seen in one. It had around... fifty, maybe sixty students attending. I should note that many 101 teachers require their students to attend at least one of these, but I just go for the sake of learning. That and I earned a bit of extra credit from attending (it was my teacher teaching, after all). We talked for a bit and had a laugh or two as I helped sort her papers.

Don't give me that coy look, Oscar. No more pets for you! ... Okay fine, just a little.

Cats are just like women; they crave affection. They're calm, elusive creatures that play games with you all the time. You never know what they're thinking, nor what they plan on doing with you. Of course Oscar only comes for some free food and pampering. That reminds me of taking a girl out on a date - free food and pampering. Also, they just adore attention. Oscar just sits there for a while, staring at the beef jerky, and only stops when I look up at him and give the fella some scratched right behind the cheek, near his neck. Girls like it there to, from my own experience. A massage is adored and appreciated when the comfort levels are balanced.

And yes, I love giving massages too. I give good ones, if I may say so. I suppose it comes from pampering animals whenever I can.

Mm... buh bye Oscar.

Two of the missionaries are transferring this week as well. Sadly, it's Flitton, one of the originals I met, and Kimball, the district leader. They're both wonderful chaps and very experienced. It's safe to say that Elder Bowns and Elder Moimai will need some assistance from their new buddies. I'll be sure to make them feel right at home. I love the missionaries, considering them some of my closest friends around.

Oscar's on the prowl!

Tonight I went to dinner with the folks and ate at a new steak house that opened up. O'Charlies, it was called, and the food was simply... eh, mediocre. The rolls there are wonderful, but only because they're made fresh and laced with butter - a bit too much so. The service wasn't all that great and you could tell that the staff was inexperienced with their work (I'll give them some slack on that simply because they're two weeks old). However, my sirloin steak, which was tiny in size, was awful. I had to choke that thing down after bathing it with steak sauce, which ran out because there was hardly in there to begin with. After taking my fries in, I felt a bit sick and was constantly burying my face in my faces. Needless to say, I desired a return trip home.

Sorry Charlie, but no thanks.

I'm hoping this week will be stress free for me. Last week was heck on Earth, and I'd prefer not to re-live it.

Oh, and I had a revelation about two things: Women and the ability to become gods. The former of the two shall NOT be ellaborated upon because it's personal thoughts, and the latter will come around on a later date. Ciao!

An artist paint with colors. A writers paint with words...

Fear it...

I have a phobia. A strange phobia of mine. It's been with me ever since I was a child, even since my first inkling of pain. Ever since the first time some one laid hands on me and caused me physical harm.

It stopped me from gaining courage to stand up for myself. It makes me weak in arguements. It turns my world upside down when I rethink situations. It makes me feel a bit pitiful, to be quite honest.

I've felt it all my life, almost every day. I wonder how others would deal with it...

I have a phobia. I fear... hurting other people.

How is that bad? Well, there is an old saying that goes: "You can't make some one happy without harming another."

But some one made me happy today. I was talking with him and when I mentioned the phobia, he gave me a virtual pat on the back and said, "If everyone on Earth were like you... the world would kick[arse]."

It made me feel good. Really good.

Come on, Get up

Update on my health.

As of 1 a.m. this morning, I felt like heck has opened up it's bunghole and let every living demon smack me with all sorts of pain and agony. It is not fun being sick, and I do not enjoy feeling drained twenty-four/seven. And since this is college, there is no sick days if you only have a parent's note. Projects are due, homework is due, and your arse better be up and ready to head to class, even if you feel like puking you brains out. At this moment, I have that very feeling rushing through the confines of my chest. My only joy is knowing that some one bothered to say 'Bless you' as I sneezed a few moments ago. Everytime I breath, I feel mucus running down the back of my throat - not fun. What's worth is that I can't concentrate on anything.

Yesterday, I had to call up John and tell him that I wasn't going to be able to make it to institute and had work to do (which is true). Also, when the Elders asked if I could pick up and drop off the Jones kids, and I had to decline because I know I'd be feeling like heck the following day (and I do). I'm flat out skipping on my Calculus class today because of what happened in Philosophy.

I come to class, turn in my work, then sit down in my seat. I take my notes out and this overwhelming feeling of exhaustion hits me. No matter what the teacher tells us, I can't seem to focus. My eyes descended down upon my papers, unable to read any of the jibberish I wrote down. Everything seems so foggy, so clogged. Just for the sake of missing that class, I'll put it in Rene Descartes' terms. "I think, therefore I am". I am sick, therefore I am sick. Don't get it? Let me inform you. Because I am sick, I figure that nature has turned everything around me to be very sick as well. I cannot focus on what I think is sick or unhealthy (correction, I can, but my mind doesn't let me because it's floating in a poor of my own nasal fluids), and thus... I am blank. No, this doesn't really make sense. I don't even know what I'm writing at this very moment. To conclude what happened - I was resting my head against my hand (mistake) and I felt a sudden tap on my shoulder. While it used to be 10:30 a.m., it was now 10:50, and class had ended. Thankfully, one of my highschool buds, Dustin Stone, was nice enough to come to the back of class and wake me up before I attended some education that wasn't on my curriculum.

Wish I had some one to nurture and feed me chicken noodle soup right now. Too bad I'm not a good conversationalist when I'm feeling like complete crud.

Also, I have a question: When in the world did it turn forty degrees outside? I was walking to class and noticed vapors coming out as I breathed. This is very strange to me as it was around seventy degrees out last week. I blame a cold front.

I need to buy some candy for the kids... and I should make that costume I thought up a few nights back. Also, I know how to make sounds that would scare the living daylights out of little kids, so I wondered if the church was holding some sort of Halloween event that I could attend. I wouldn't mind traumatizing the minds of little eight-year old by the sight and sounds of the crazed monster possessing a human body (trust me, it looks cheesier than it sounds). Of course, I tested out one particular sound when I was driving home the other day, and it even freaked me out.

Guys are like that, I suppose. I don't know about you women out there, but we like to experiment with all sorts of things. I constantly see how high the pitch of my voice can get, the various accents and tones I can make, and the assorted sounds that come out of my mouth. This particular sound involved lowering my voice to the very minimal, making sort of a gurgling noise, and then getting louder and more high pitched. My throat hated me after I finished, and I scared myself with how I managed to do that. If it weren't for my health issue, I'd try it again.

The only good thing that comes from being sick is the weight loss. There is no faster way, save for unnatural causes, of losing weight than getting sick and having your entire body go into overdrive. I swear to you that when I went onto the scale at the doctor's office a little over a year ago, after having gone through a week's worth of suffering, I was astonished to find myself at the weighing so low. Celebrity diet my butt! Give me malaria and I'm sure I'd weigh under 150 by the end of the semester. I'd be one lean, mean, puking machine.

No, not worth it. I'd rather walk/jog around O'dell Weeks for a few miles every week than suffer sickness. At least then I'd grow muscle mass and make an excuse for weighing more.

"Yeah! Those ten pounds grew from pure muscle!"
"Pure muscle doesn't jiggle like that..."

Note to self: Lose weight over my mission.

I exist because I am necessary...

Down with the Sickness

I must say that I do feel like crud. And for once, it's not angsty "Emo" crud either.

My eyes hurts, my stomach is churning, and I'm under so much stress that it's ridiculous. I regret going with the missionaries on that one dinner because I think I caught what ever the heck it is that one kid caught. My throat is in pain but it doesn't feel sore. I have chills going through my entire body every couple of moments. And I need to work on that English paper... what a life.

Seriously, some one has it out for me because I think I'm going to puke. I really need to get some sleep. ~.~ Pray that I get better, please.

Oh, and wish me luck on the report.

Eyes like Ice

Last night, I took a walk into Gatewood housing down the street and behind the wooden wall. No, not a fence; a wall. It had been there since before I could remember. A means of stopping people from getting to the two different neighborhoods. Also, making it a pain to drive to as well when there's such an easy entrance right there. It's ridiculous to have it there, but at least they put a door for people to walk through.

But, the difference about this walk was that it was at two o'clock at night. Yes, not a single person was walking around me, nor did it seem there was any life. Everything looked dead, dark, and evil save for a few lights from houses. I eventually made it to another entrance that lead out of the housing area and towards the downtown area. I'd never walked down that road on my own this late at night. Actually, I don't think I've ever walked in that area, even after seventeen years of living here. It was dark, creepy, and there was no saving light except for the moon.

I decided to trek into the darkness and meet this fear head on.

I, of course, do not fear the darkness. But, I am cautious about what's inside of it. The shadows can do you no harm, nor can you feel their touch upon your skin. Darkness is merely the absence of light and nothing more. There is nothing evil about it, nor should there be anything scary. However, our minds intentionally send messages of cautiousness when it comes to this darkness. We can no see what's inside of it or where we are going. If something were to jump out at us, we wouldn't see it coming.

I didn't see anything coming, nor going, so I continued to walk down that road. I saw the blue light glowing through the trees and upon the gates of the polo field. Curiosity got to me once more and I leaned upon the steel fence, startled only by it slightly giving way to my weight. And there I stood for a few moments, walking the grass and the moonlight. The stars were very beautiful, but I could hardly see them on this foggy night. Nothing was there for me to observe anymore. A turn and I looked over to the shaded area. There was the darkness that many with a phobia dared not to venture into.

Down that street it looked like hands were reaching down and ready to grab a person. Floating figures could be seen moving in the wind, staring down upon me. They were nothing more than leaves, but paranoia leads the brain to think otherwise for me. Every so often, I'd head branched snapping from above. I could hear things moving around me, ready to pounce upon my helpless body. They were all gazing upon me, a strange figure they'd never seen before. The shadows reached out but never touched me with their perilous grasp. This ominous section of the road was all around me now, and the sounds became more and more creepy. I wondered if there was anyone watching me, or if a murderer was laying in wait. Did we have any murderers on the loose? No, not that night.

I saw the light once more, past the fields. There, I stood calmly and looked out towards the grassy plains once more. So beautiful they were, bathed in moonlight, swaying ever so gentle with every small breeze. How I wished I could dance like they could, following the rythm of a song with no notes. There was no music to speak of, nor were there anymore sounds. I was not scared of any of that, nor did I have any reason to be. I was in the protective hands of mother nature. And for a moment, I felt myself praying to God about my situation.

"~Give us this day our daily bread and forgive those who trespass. For we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation. But deliver us from evil, Amen."

No, not a Mormon prayer, mind you, but part of the Our Father prayer from my old faith. It really made no difference in this situation. A prayer is a prayer, and what ever fashion I said it did not matter.

Upon turning once more, I saw that darkness was now all around me. There was no light in sight except the horizon's glow. And back I turned once more, trudging down the path and towards that road once again. I was heading the opposite direction; heading home. A car passed me by on that road, though I did not turn to look at it. As it passed, I wondered if they feared me at that moment. Yes, a silly thing to think of, but I wonder what it would have taken for me to scare them at that moment. What position could I have contorted my body that would make them quiver upon seeing me? It was amusing, but I did nothing as the lights faded upon a turning, disappearing from my senses' detection.

I arrived home, tired and begrudgedly as I saw my mother still watching television and my brother playing games still. I can not receive a restful night because of those two. My mother does nothing except watch religion channels. These days, she has nothing left for her but religion, and I feel terrible that I am not there for her at times. She does enjoy it when I talk to her, and when I do things for her. She was always secluded from the rest of us, and hardly ever commanded me or my brother about our actions. We were grown up now, and she wasn't necessary for our lives. I suppose that is why she is sad; she's lost a responsibility in her life.

But my brother... no, he's entirely different. He holds no respect for any of us, nor does he share anything he does. Everytime I see him, he's in the chair and playing games. There is nothing else for him to do, nor do my parents pressure him into doing anything. My father secrets hates how remote he it, and how he does nothing productive around the house. His only role is to criticize everyone else around him. Yes, he is constantly cursing us and commanding us under his breath. he wants the entire house to himself, and he wants everything in it. This includes our lives. It may seem strange, but I pity him. He has no motivation, nor does he do anything with his life. Would be bother to get a job? Would be bother to go to school? What do you plan to do, my dearest brother? I've seen your room. I've seen all those books laying on the floor, opened and read over. I am missing some of my magazines because you've taken them and have been reading them. You're very intelligent, but you do nothing with that intelligence.

Why are you so spiteful, my dear brother? We were so close as children... but you became so violent.

Into my father's room I went, turning the computer on and sitting quietly. As soon as I did, the old man asked the question: "Where did you go?" I went some where, didn't I? Yes, I was down by the polo fields, dear father. I went there and I saw the blades dance in the wind and the shadows tried to take me in. I escaped their grasp, father, aren't you proud? Are you proud of what I managed to do? I answered him in a casual tone, as I had been doing more recently. And he talked to me, asking me question. His first question was: "What's bothering you?"

I was appalled, to say the least. Father was never concerned with us before, nor did he ask such questions of me. This man was wondering about my safety and health. I am grateful, but I answered him that nothing was wrong. I'd been on many walks before, and only when something bothered me immensely. But this one was something different. I did it merely for the sake of doing it, dear father. And he persisted with his questioning, curious as to how my life was going. And it was awkward when his words escaped those sheets of his, curled up in that solitary bed as he had down every night.

"I don't know if this is my place to ask. It's really something that's random but what is going on between you and Mia?"

"She and I aren't together any more." I responded.

"Oh, I was wondering because she hadn't called for two weeks."

Nay, it's been longer than that now. At least three, maybe four weeks now. I wonder if I can remember her voice. It was so soft, and I was surprised when I first heard it. So cute it was that she spoke to me in a nervous tone, never talking to a stranger such as I, probably. That was over a year ago, and I still cherish that one night we spoke to each other for the first time. The memories of the past... how their haunting lantern still hangs in my mind, giving light to situations as I think.

I continued my sequence of starting up the computer some more, talking with my father more upon the situation. I knew he'd be curious as to why I hadn't been on the phone everyday, and why I'd been so angsty a long while back. I reminded him of that one fateful night I had, the one that I came back into his room and hung up the phone. I asked him if he ever hated when that night, and he responded no. Yes, he recalled that night, and he understood the situation. And he sympathized with me about my feelings, and even more so after I explained a few more details. Unlike everyone else in my family, he understood me for some off reason. We got to talking some more, chatting even when my grumpy brother slammed the door to the room. Eventually, that man fell asleep and I sat upon this very computer chair I am in right now, reading over the events of the day.

I too departed from that room, heading into bed as my mother continued to watch television and my brother continued with his games. My eyelids closed shut, welcoming a restful night. They opened not too long afterwards, staring at the stero that I faced. I turned around and looked upon the clock. 7:20, it read. Too early for me to get up on a Saturday, especially after staying up so very late that night. They opened once more and my ears heard a ring. Father, please get it, I thought. Please stop the ringing from entering my mind. I don't want to hear it anymore this morning.

The elders rose me from my slumber with their voices, inviting me with them for the next day's journey. Some woman, Katrina was her name, would be talking with us. It would be her first time to hear the message of our faith. Groggily, I agreed to this task and sat up, listening into the rest of their words. A dinner too was to be my reward. They were going to allow me to eat with them over at a member's home. It sounded delicious, to be sure, so I agreed to this as well. My life is so busy with this faith.

Again, I blinked and it was around noon. This was a more proper time for me to awaken. I could feel my body coaxing me to stay in bed, but my mind lusted for a new day's knowledge. Yes, I admit that my mind is a whore for finding out updates in my life, and to speak with my friends over a digital network. And up I sat, stretching the exhaution out of my body. I walked to the kitchen sink and washed my hair out, as I did every morning. My father ran in and laughed, commenting on how he didn't know I was awake and thought the grill was sizzling.

And escape to this computer I went, sitting down upon it's baredly-there cushioning. It was comfortable, though was broken. I don't mind. And I went about my routine online, checking the webcomics and looking over my home forum. Nothing new really. A Halloween party from one of my friends, but I'd already been to two of hers. Nothing new would come out of it, I was sure. And thus, I went onto an Instant Messenger service and chatted with friends, having fun and being the funny idiot that I am to them. I am glad I can make them laugh, even if I can't heard it from their voices.

My friends... how dear they are to me. I'll never see them in my life, but they mean a lot to me. More so than some of those who I have in real life. They are real as well, if only by the words they speak to me in. How I'd like to meet and chat with them, but my opportunities to do so have dwindled. I already owe my father too much to ask for another trip out of him this year. No, I can not see them this year.

And then she came on... and I talked with her. Her, Miriam, my ex-girlfriend. It hurts to say that word, but it holds true to the situation, sadly. The cause to the greatest happiness I've ever felt in my entire life, as well as the worst pain I'd ever been in. My life revolved around her at one point, and I felt that everything I did was for her sake. I always wanted her to look at me and be proud, to acknowledge my accomplishments and adorn me with lavish compliments and touches.

The conversation was innocent enough, but I felt queasy and nautious as we continue. Talking with her some how struck against my chest, and rose mixed feelings in my stomach. What was happening to me? I wonder that at this very moment. Every time I've spoken with her after that day, I felt a sense of loss. I surpressed those feelings over the weeks, even when thinking about her constantly. I wanted to get over her, and I wanted to move on with life. No, I didn't want to move on. I wanted to grab her and hold her close. I wanted to hold on to her forever and ever, to stay with that wonderful woman the rest of my life. I wanted so much more, and there was nothing I could do.

And my words turned sour... bitter to even my own taste. But I felt they were justified, and I confided my feelings that arose in the past weeks. I reminded her of my love, and gave what I felt in harsh, quarrelsome words. They were not helping at all. No, they were filled with pride and I was blinded by the sorry notion of my own selfishness. Once again, I wanted to hold her and snatch her away from that world she lived in now. I wanted to take her away from those troubles, to make sure no harm came to her. But... there I was - Expressing my feelings that would surely hurt her.

How horrible I am, to think that I can change the world like that. That I can conform the entire existance of this planet to my own desires.

There is no one for me to hold on to. There is no one to express me pure emotions to. There is no one for me. At times, I wished I could have curled up and died right there. I wished I could have entered into a shadowy street and never returned to this existance I now share with humankind.

I can't stop loving her... nor do I want to.

Popcorn Balls

Jack Thompson is a lying little worm, in case you don't already know that.

As I mentioned earlier, the man asked any developer (namedly, Paul Eiberler) to create a game that had every specification of he made including but not limited to: murder, rape, stealing, and every other sin thinkable. By doing so, the man would donate ten-thousand dollars to the charity of that person's choosing.

How about that? He doesn't seem like such a bad guy after all. Oh but wait... hold one for a moment. It turns out that when some one actually did make such a mod to his specifications, the man didn't follow through with his deal. How about that... a form of satire, eh? Well I'm sure many a charities could have used that kind of money, even if it was just for satire, Mr. Thompson.

And I'm just loving the guys at Penny-Arcade for what they've been doing through the whole ordeal. Just to show how nice they are, they went through the trouble of donating to a charity for Jack Thompson - in his name, no less.

Ah how I love the gaming industry.

Enough about that guy, on to what's been happening in this life of mine.

Sunday came around just fine, though I was late for Church due to over-sleeping. I did, however, manage to get there in time for my usual classes: Gospel Principles and Elder's Quorum. I believe it was the first time I was able to say prayer in the latter of the two, but it wouldn't be the only time I was saying one that day. The previous morning, I was asked by the elders if I would come to a baptism to say the opening prayer. Needless to say, I went ahead and agreed to this.

So, after church, I attended the Baptism and waited through it. I finally found out the name of this one guy, that I spoke to many times, thanks to his wife speaking at the event. I was relieved because now I wouldn't ahve to say Brother every single time I met with him. But I digress... The kids at that Baptism were the Jones. These three little guys and girls are some that I visited a number of times with the missionaries, and I even drive them to Young Mens/Womens every week due to transportation issues. Nice kids too, and I helped explain a few things to them when I drove them home afterwards.

Oh, and driving with six kids in the car is quite hectic. And yes, it was a car. Five person capacity max, and I was stuck with seven. Yeah, I drove extra carefully that day.

The rest of the week was pretty uneventful for me. Monday was my return to school. On Tuesday, I just hung around home all day and kicked my feet too and fro, and I missed Institute because I really didn't feel like going to it for some odd reason. And today... well... nothing new here.

Until next time.

Stare into the light too long and you'll go blind...

Echo...

I love Korn's music.

I don't know why, but the sound of it is so captivating. Ever since I became a LDS, I've wondered if I should be listening to this kind of music. Then my common sense kicked in and I remember that listening to a certain kind of music doesn't turn you into the stereotype. Seriously, who is stupid enough to go about turning into some Neo-Gothic label as soon as they listen to a bit of Nine-inch Nails and Korn? I love bands such as Disturbed, Korn, Limp Bizkit, Slipknot, and so on and so forth. Does that automaticly make me some punk kick who wears too much make up?

Of course not. You'd have to be a close-minded buffoon to believe such garbage.

Which leads me to the point of gaming. Jack Thompson, a name everyone in the gaming industry should recognize right now. No, not for making some revolutionary game, nor for making some ridiculously successful game. Nay, none of that. He's known for being a complete and utter thorn in the side of the gaming industry. He's some attorney in Florida looking to smack out violence in games. His justification for doing so? Because there's crime in America...

I'll give you guys a minute to regain your sanity... done yet? Oh just a little more time... alright then.

Yes, I know many of you are either going to say 'What the fruit' or 'Okay?'

To those who said the formal, you understand what I'm getting at. For those of you who said the latter, you'll need some explanation. Gaming is not the cause of violence and crime in America. Matter of fact, it's the opposite effect. Ever since the Playstation debuted, the crime rate of people around the ages of 18 have decreased. No really, look it up if you don't believe me. I believe it was... 1995 or something like that. Go ahead and look that information up.

Gaming, whole holding violence and such, isn't meant to turn people into violent freaks of nature. The industry is just looking to entertain a certain group of individuals, and the ESRB clearly describes what's in a game, so there shouldn't be any confusion.

And of don't you even start with me about the whole youth getting their hands on mature games. The industry doesn't force you to buy games. If a child gets his hands on a game that isn't suitable for his age group, whose fault is it? Is it Rockstar North's fault that little Billy got his hands on the Grand Theft Auto III games? No, it's the fault of the parents for not realizing what's in the game. And come on, if the store asks you for ID when buying a game, it's probably not suitable for little Billy who doesn't even have ID.

Let's take, for example, the case where the grandmother sued Rockstar games for purchasing her grandson the game. Hello? Anyone already see something wrong with that statement? She bought the game for him. She gives the excuse that she didn't realize what was on the game.

Hey Grannie, did you check what it said on the case? See that little ESRB rating down there that states "MATURE - M"? THat means exactly what it says. Turn that game case over and read what else it says: "Mature - blood and gore, violence, strong language, strong sexual content." Hmm, think that would ring a bell for you, wouldn't it? See folks? They clearly state what is to be expected in a game, and it's the responsibility of the parents/guardians to make sure their children don't get a hold of such games.

Grandma, you shouldn't be taking the Gaming Industry to court; Social Services should be the one taking you.

Now don't get me wrong, people. I understand that not every game is suitable for everyone else. It's like I was telling my Ex during a heated debate: "I wouldn't never allow a kid young than hghschool age to get their hands on GTA (Grand Theft Auto)". And these days, I question if highschool students are mature enough for this game. I don't believe they'd be mature enough to understand that one shouldn't go about shooting up every guy on the street and running pedestrians over with cars. Personally, I'd hate to see a kid playing GTA, and it astonished me that some parents actually allow it. Again, I say it's the responsibility of the parents to regulate what the children are exposed to.

I wouldn't even let my Ex's younger brothers and friends get a hand on my MGS games when I was visiting. It's too graphic for them to understand properly. If I did, I figure they'd start reenacting the scene outside and could seriously get some one hurt. I must say it was amusing, however, that when I was discovered by the enemies in the game (this is a stealth game mind you), I asked that everyone besides my Ex's mom, herself, and me to close them eyes and ears. Strangely enough, her mom was cool enough to allow them to watch the game. But... she was doing it with regulation, as a responsibly parent should.

See what I mean?

Also, I love what Gabe, the artist behind Penny-Arcade, did with Jack Thompson. When Jack declared his vow to donate ten thousand dollars to charity of a game developer's choice to make his game, Gabe asked if the guy would end up having to sue himself for making such a violent game. Needless to say, the man wasn't too happy with the answer. Still, it does make one raise an eyebrow at the attorney's actions, doesn't it.

Silly old bear, leave the gaming to the open-minded, responsible people.

Because the music too / And it's reaching / Inside you / And it's preaching-

I do love Korn.

Light hides in the shadows, waiting to be found.

Shadow Shadow on the Wall...

So, my weekend's been shattered. While I was going to enjoy this college break of mine in Mississippi (nope, not in New Orleans), it turns out that transportation troubles have hindered me from doing so. I was on the phone with Mr. Kent around... three or four times last night trying to work everything out. Unfortunately, it sort of fell through and no one else could go. So I'm going to be staying home this entire weekend, not really doing much of anything. I should be doing something, but I just can't find myself motivated to do much of anything at this point - productive at least.

I finished another chapter in this one fan-fiction I've been writing, and a bunch of my friends said they enjoyed it. Personally, I think I could have done a little better with the entire thing, but my creative juices hindered me from doing anything splendiferous. Personally, I don't know why I bother with that fan-fiction. I should be focusing more upon my own writing, but I've never found a beginning or an end to the story, which is how I write.

First, I'll start with a beginning. This will usually pop up through some means of muscial inspiration such as my Elemental Saga did with White Zombie. However, I just imagine so many... strange things these days. I suppose you could consider them to be dreams.

Oh, but they really aren't dreams so much as nitemares. Every single one of them is centered around the destruction of an area, which might be my subconscious telling me something. Some monsters rage in and shatter the world, crushing and killing hundreds of people. Then, out of the blue, some hero comes to save the day and kills of the monster. Every time I hear a heavy rock song that I get a rush from, that scene plays in my mind.

It'll usually start off in my campus grounds, and there will suddenly be some roar in the air. Some giant demon comes crashing through the clouds, landing, and obliterating the surrounding area.

And I'm starting to repeat myself. I should stop that habit of mine.

All I know is that this crud has been going on for a number of weeks now, and I'm just letting it eat at me. No new scenes, and no new dreams what so ever. Every single dream I have is forgetten and nothing new comes out of it. I'm just not enjoying the scenes I have played out in my head anymore these days. They're just reminders of what I've felt in the past, and the pain I'm enduring all these days. Honestly, I wish I could just forget some moments in my life and move on to greener pastures. All too often, I find myself day dreaming and losing concentration in class. I've doodled at least two hundred eyes this semester, and that's not helping my grades at all.

School wise, I'm actually not doing too bad, but I could do better.

Wonder what I'm missing in my life. I kind of wish I had a lot more money... or some sort of goal these days. Drifting... drifting... drifting. I'm just drifting around these days, living day to day, and not looking to accomplish much of anything anymore. My wishes in life have seemed to fade away recently, and I'm just... not motivated so much as I used to be. There used to be this one big goal in my life, but it's ... well... gone now. Some smaller goals stemmed off of it, but they're gone now as well.

I still want to be a writer, but these days I'm less encouraged to do so.

Truth be told, I only seem to write when I'm angsty these days. Heck, look at the crud you've been reading for the past four minutes. Angst, pain, and turmoil. If I could curse, I probably would. Kind of wish I could, seeing as how no one would really take notice of it. But... I'm disliking those bounds I have inside me that hinder my fingers and my mouth from expressing those words outwardly. Used to say they a lot (compared to nowadays) but I almost never say them now; Last time I let one slip was back in Nauvoo, which I'm not too proud of.

So what can I do?

What can I do in life right now?

Calling in my Distance

The voices... all the voices... they're in my head. It hurts too much PAIN I can't focus... where are they? I can hear them in my thoughts. I can hear them cursing me... they're wishing death on my name. Why are you attacking? Have I not atoned - redemption - let me sleep now... I don't want to wake up to you again. Don't come any closer... don't come... I don't want to hurt anyone else.

It's over.

Dead.

Over.

Tipsy... the world is spinning. Make it stop. Please, make it stop. I can't let it happen again. I'm done with that. They didn't deserve it. No one deserved it. No one should have gone through that. I made them cry. They all cried crimson tears. I don't want to make them cry. Please make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. I can't help anyone anymore. No one must come near me. They won't stop coming. Voices! Stop coming to me! You'll only die! I don't want this life. I don't want to see them! I don't want to hear them! Please get away from me. Get away from me right now! I don't want this! I don't want-
...
...
Kill you all...


~ ~ ~

That would be Sai, one of the many Jentra in my stories. His is one of the more bizarre cases that I've thought up. Also, he's a bit of a fan favorite that my friends have liked in the past. I remember the first story I wrote. And in it he was going through amnesia to the point of split personas.

One would be where he's a well mannered, likable guy. He's hardworking, determined, and he cared a lot about the Northern Lands where he lived. Unfortunately, they'd been attacked by some unknown force that came around and he was forced south. During that time, he'd been attacked a number of times but never really regressed into a state of delirium. It wasn't until he came about Caranos that his opposite side came about; oh and how it did.

During this state, Sai would be in an uncontrollable frenzy, and would be manipulated by some unknown persona. He'd be deranged and wouldn't think twice about killing some one. Actually, he'd look forward to flaying their skins and cutting out their organs while the person was still alive. So... yeah. You get what kind of monster this individual can actually be. It all really stems off from a trigger that happened in that town: Airez.

You see... this is more of a story revolving around the finding of Airez's son, Sol. Thus, Airez and his companions (unknowingly) landed upon a planet where this child of his was living. (I'm not going into the detail as to how Sol came to that world, how he managed to be created, or how all the other junk happened; I'm saving all that information for when I actually write a book about it. Until then, I plan on just giving out little details to help people along.) So, arriving there, they set out a test for the Jentra to see how all of them would fair. Unfortunately, Sai got involved with this test and experienced the same memory loss as the rest of the Jentra. His case, unlike the others, was "incomplete" so there were still fragments of his own memory present in his mind. Needless to say, they were the bad ones.

Not sure why I bothered telling anyone but I felt it was nice to talk about.

~ ~ ~

Last night was quite interesting. I drove to Family Home Evening at the Augusta Ward and met up with everyone there. Problem was that I was the only person from Aiken there at the time, but I'll get into that a little bit later. I talked to T.J. and Chrust for a bit, as well as Ashley and a number of the others hanging around the front door of the church building. Brandon and T.J. were talking about this one internet fraud that a few of your readers might know about.

Apparently, there are people out there asking if people would send them money and act like some helpless, desperate person. They'll sent some one an e-mail and ask them to send five hundred dollars of their well-earned money via Western Union (which is untraceable, for those of you that do not know). Brandon and T.J. were laughing about this because they went through with the whole thing just for kicks. Unstead of sending the money, they just chatted with the guys and then gave another e-mail to them, stating how idiotic their attempts were but commending them on all the trouble they went through. Needless to say, they didn't get another e-mail from those guys. I laughed about it as well since some idiot tried the same thing on me not too long ago.

For anyone that knows me well enough, they know I can make a person feel pretty darn stupid. Give me about thirty minutes and you'll have an essay's worth of chastizing that's very... memorable.

But I digress. Aiken's group never showed up so we headed over to the house we were going to. The Posey family was courteous enough to let us into their home and feed us a feast of food. Oh, and it was delightful! They had apple slices, some variety of grits (that I atually found edible), barbeque sandwiches, salad, and a DELICIOUS caramel for anyone to put on anything. Then came the brownies and chocolate/caramel snaps. It was all very good. I only regret being unable to taste these sweet rolls of hers which were rumored upon. Eventually, I sat back down, plate full of food, and chatted with John, Clark, and Ashley; having discovered that Aiken car-pooled

It didn't take John too long before he leaned in and asked, "So, James. You ready to get back into the game?"

Let me tell you a little bit about my friend, John. He's a great guy and I'm so happy to have met him. He's outgoing, funny, and we share a good many interested. Though, I question which head he's thinking from half the time.

"Well, John, my friend, my buddy, my good ol' chap. I can honestly say that I'm quite content with just being single and not giving a care about the rest of the world right now. HA HA! Ah yes... my friend. I'm sorry to say that I don't have to be like you, but I respect your wishes for my own happiness of a relationship. So, I must decline your offer and laugh inwardly. Ha ha ha!" said the voice in my mind that has no real control over the way I think and act. Instead, I shrugged my shoulders and said, "I suppose."

Know how you'd like nothing more than to smack yourself some times?

John, my good buddy and all, leans in closer and says, "So how about you ask one of these girls out." To this, I kindly explain how I'm really not looking to go into that, and how I'd just gotten over my previous engagement a few days ago. Secretly, I was saying, "The pickings aren't all that great. I'm not all that interested in them. That and I think Kathy has a boyfriend already... Ooo, who's that girl over there?"

Welcome to the world of a guy's mind. We're EASILY distracted by beauty, so much so as to do stupid crud for it. And by "stupid crud", I mean we'll do just about anything. This including giving you girls free stuff, doing work for you, making your life as comfortable as possible, and just trying to get your attention in some way that'll actually make you remember our names. I mean... anything. Why do guys go to the gym and workout for hours on end? To get healthier? Healthier my butt! We do it because we're trying to attract you with a manly image so that you'll actually bother to stare at us, and so that we can look good when/if the time comes (*cough*). Half our brain is focused on women alone! Why do you think we're generally not as smart as women? Because while Mrs. Bradshaw is talking about the physics of candy corn falling down into the bowels of heck, we're busy staring at Betsy and wondering what in the world she thinks about us.

Yes, we have dedication for learning. It's just focused upon women.

DIGRESS!

So, John (remember him?) gives me a little wager. He asks that I should go up to one of the girls and ask them out by the end of the night. In my mind, I'm raising an eyebrow, checking out the women, then shaking my head mentally while going, "No, thank you. Where's that Rachael girl you brought to Church?" But I actually say, "No, really. I'm just not interested in dating at the moment." He badgers me on and I go about explaining my current situation with him, and he backs off the subject a bit.

The night moves on and I talk to a number of people. Apparently, Steve-O's problem was he couldn't meet with us at that time in particular, so he actually attended a showing earlier in the night. I'll chat with him about the movie later, or maybe not at all. I don't know, depends on whether I go to institute tomorrow or not. Just a little reminder: Institute is five times as fun as FHE. I teased Kathy about her lack of food on the plate also, and she said it was enough to make her full

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, some grits, an apple slice, and a splash of caramel is all that it takes to make this girl full. A guy behind me said: "She's trying to keep her feminine figure." In response, I shake my head and go, "Yeah, I guess. But I'll worry about my figure when I'm thirty." Bad principle to live by, but it's a principle that allows me to eat meat, soup, and sweets whenever I want. Unsurprisingly, the guy agreed with me.

Dieting... let me tell you girls something about dieting and eating very little. If you are 18+ and weigh some where around 100 - 120-ish... You do NOT need to diet or eat less. You're very good looking, your body is in great shape, and you should be eating more. I can't stress enough about how women should be eating more! A salad isn't going to give you everything your body needs. You need eggs, meat, dairy, and every other food group to live healthily. Try to get them in, PLEASE! Guys will not mind a little bit of softness on your body. I'll give you an example:

At a dance, I was talking with a very small girl that was very attractive as well. I asked her to slow dance and we just did the whole swaying thing that's all romantic and nice (save for the cinder-block rule). I kid you not when I say I could have picked her up by the waist and tossed her clear through the ceiling. But, alas, I didn't. Later in the dance came Michelle (read back on my blog a bit, you'll learn about her). I asked her to dance and she shyly agreed to it (did I mention how I adore that cute shyness?). With my arms wrapped around her waist, I could feel that she had a bit of fat to her. Did I care? No, it actually felt very soft and nice. I actually liked the feel of it, and would have loved to have still danced later on.

I guarantee you that any guy, save for the shallowest of shallows, wouldn't mind a bit of fat on their companions.

By the end of the night, we listened to some of the conference and headed home. I had to ask that some one kindly remove their car since it blocked mine, then drove some friends to their car (a few had to get rides). Got home, watched some Bleach and then flopped in bed. Not too bad for a Sunday, hmm?

Also, I should get Rachael's number from John. *grin*

Do not drop your soul, for the pieces are irreplacable.

Cherry Trees and Bumble Bees

It's been a while since I've actually bothered to write in this thing. I think the reason is because I'm no where near as angsty these days as I had been. So, thanks to the lack there of, I'm also lacking in some creative writing. Not sure why but this emotional weeks have drawn out a side of me that's been really interesting. I've thought about many things and done many more. I found new sides of myself and realized a few aspects of life that I feel are very important to me. Also, I've come to conclusions that have now made me a much better man.

For one: I don't have to be in a relationship.

I mean, come on! I've yet to go on my mission, and what hopes do I have that some girl is going to be dedicated enough to sit through two years without taking interest in another guy, let alone not being able to see me. Some long distance relationships work, and some don't. And the fact of the matter is this: At my age, I really shouldn't even care about such trivial things. Sure it's nice to have some one to hug and cuddle with, but I've got much more important things to worry about.

1. College
2. Work
3. Preparing for my mission
4. Having some fun with my own friends

Basicly, I think it was good advice from my friend Mike who said, "You know, you shouldn't even get into any serious relationships before your mission. Chances are they're not going to last." So here I figure 'what the hey' and thought to myself a lot after talking with my friends about my predicament. Most of them were baffled by it, seeing how much I talked about my previous relationship, but then offered some bits of closure and advice. They really made me feel better about the whole ordeal, and I'm glad I came around to talk with them about it. What are friends for, eh?

With that off my chest, it's time to talk about what happened this past week. For one, there was the George Singleton Reading. I had a blast going to that thing! The man's work is hilarious, and I wish I had the money to purchase his novel, Novel. Not only are the characters and events humorously flooring, but it all takes place in South Carolina - where I live. When they mention of different towns and places, and even streets, I can recognize them instantly and laugh about them. I seriously love his style of writing too. Unlike most writers, he's work isn't confusing at all. He strips away the inflated words and leaves you with an easy-to-read, easy-to-understand, and fun story to engross yourself with. That's the trait I find many people lacking, inclduing myself. Many of my friends online use inflated words and phrases that require you to pull out a dictionary to understand. While I don't really mind that too much, I do find that it can be seriously over-done.

I mean... come one people. You're writing prose, not poetry.

But anyway, I ahve some pictures to share!

This would be Mr. Singleton signing books and so on and so forth.
And this would be him talking to Dr. Mack.

This here would be the head of the English Department (and my advisor) Dr. Mack. Also a great writer.
Ah what good times those were... I actually was able to shake Mr. Singleton's hand and talked to him for a bit. A very humorous fellow and very casual. He hardly acted like you'd think a celebrity would. Then again, he is merely a writer. ( *grin* )

Moving on, the week passed by and I saw Serenity with some friends of mine. For those of you that don't know: THIS IS AN AWESOME MOVIE! I'd recommend everyone go see it. Though it may not be to everyone's liking, I, as a Science Fiction nut, loved it thoroughly. I'll give ti a review on some other day. Just go see it.

Oh, and one more picture just because I figure I should give my fans a taste of what I look like.

Caramel-Coated Apples

Life...

Moment to moment of time to time. Every time is a moment, and every moment exists in time. We're born, we live, and then we die. Life is quite morbid, but undeniably interesting. It can be empty as a canyon, yet still be equally as beautiful. Many lives have passed through these eyes of mine, and many more will come that shall intrigue me. My mind fondles thoughts of all the wonderful people I'll meet in life and cringes to all those who will hurt me. It is inevidable - I will have no sugary filling leading to a wonderful sensation upon one's tongue. "Good to the last drop", as my mother would say.

To the last drop... I remember when I would always drink the very last drop of my mother's coffee. She would always mix in creamer and sugar, so there was no chalky or bland taste to it. By the time the last drop came around, the mug was cold and no steam rose from within. Hot coffee was always the best, and I enjoyed the luscious taste fondly as a mere boy. However... when it was cold, the true sugary taste was present. Contrary to the surprising spike of hot coffee, it was very smooth and calming. While I'd never touch the stuff these days, I do remember how that saying came about: "Good to the last drop."

It's been a long time since I thought of that, or that I actually drank that one particle of a morning's beverage. Much has changed since I was a child. Life is no longer a playground, and the days no longer last a few moments. Back then, I would fall asleep forever. I can only remember fragments of what I did, or how I came about living that life.

Brandon, Emily, Jonathan, Thomas, Killian... all names of the past. They are all pages in my life. Each one of them has their own chapter, and each I remember with both good times and bad. How the time has gone by... and I wonder if my tattered pages will remain with me until the very end. Will I remember who I was back when I wasn't even half the size I am now? Such interesting thoughts flow into my mind these days, and I've had much to think about lately. I've been too immersed with the present to even bother thinking of my lovely past, my fond memories.

Oh Peter Matthews... where are you now? Are you still alive, my friend? You were always a good friend of mine, and you gave me my sense of humor. No, you taught me to hold a sense of humor. Should I meet you again... I'd love to draw you a picture of a castle, multiple layers, and draw those old characters we used to draw. They were always so much fun, and I loved to just draw a picture every single day. In class, you would show me yours at the end of the day, and I would show you mine. You always said mine were better... but I think yours had more substance. Fair friend of mine, I owe you a lot.

Matther Peters... I haven't thought of him in years. I miss that fine fellow now that I think about it.

Where has everyone gone? What has happened to the children that I once knew?

In shadows lie the truth. Turn on a light and enrich yourself with wisdom.

Demeanor

I did an interesting experiment today. A few days ago, I thought about coming to school in a full dress suit. This included a tie, a blazer, dress shirt, dress pants, dress socks, and dress shoes to top it all off. One of the reasons I pondered this is a simple one: I look pretty darn good in a suit. Don't believe me? I'll give my loyal readers a picture some day - then we'll see who's laughing!

Ahem... anyway.

This morning I decided to go through with the experiment of mine. I dressed up in the prementioned attire and then headed to school, wonder how people would take this new look of mine. There was this surprising degree of confidence within me during my drive, and even more so when I entered into the campus grounds, heading for the lot closest to the science building. When pulling through a spot, I parked a little too far back, forcing the person behind me to do the same. I honestly didn't care though; I figured they wouldn't do jack-squat to a guy in a suit - Hey, I could have put them out of business or something! That aside, I marched along with my book bag in hand, chest out, and walked steadily to class. While strolling down the sidewalk, people would move out of my way and give quick glances as I passed. Mind you, I do receive a number of looks due to me sear height on normal, but this was a whole different circumstance.

Like I said: You don't mess with a guy in a suit; especially if he's six-foot-three and looks like he could easily crush your face in the palm of his hand.

I received a number of comments as I entered into the crowded classroom. The rather old woman next to me commented upon how "snazzy" I looked. With a quick "thank you", I disposed of my blazer (it was hot, so sue me) and retrieved my work from the front desk, nodding gracious to the satisfying checks upon my quizzes and homework. In truth, I'm not too sure what it was about this suit, but I felt as though I held prominence, fame, and power when clothed in its fibers. Maybe that's why everyone is so talkative in church: They're feeling the "powah" of the suit.

So, I leave the science building and enter into the library where our English class was meeting. People took notice and waved me over, allowing me to listen on the conversation. Minutes passed and the reference librarian guided us around the facility, showing which books would be helpful to our research. Afterwards, we headed upstairs and into a classroom with many computers. Here, we looked up resources and learned about the different programs that the school offered. During the presentation, the librarian quickly took notice of me and learned my name rather quickly after I gave information out to the rest of the students. She called upon me multiple times, sharing my input to the class and then moving on.

Not only did the students respect me more so, but the teachers seemed to as well.

Thus, I have come to a number of conclusions. One - I still look very sexy in a suit. Two - People respect a well-dressed man. Three - When you have confidence in what you wear, there's this strange power in your hands. Four - I should do this more often.

When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. What if there is nothing for that lemonade to go into?

Reflection

Bawitdaba da bang a dang diggy diggy diggy said the boogy said up jump the boogy
Bawitdaba da bang a dang diggy diggy diggy said the boogy said up jump the boogy

Everytime I hear that intro to Kid Rock's "Bawitdaba", I just get pumped and ready for everything. There's just this energy rushing through the tips of my fingers and splashing all over my body. I can feel this uplifting of ecstasy and excitement coursing into my veins, pumping them with andrenaline. My reflexes and thoughts become acute, while my "skills" in general enhance immensely. If there were some sort of crash of cars in front of me with only fifty or so feet of distance, I could end up swerving through the flying vehicles, doing a burn out in such a fashion as to dodge debris and parts, then swerve back into place without a scratch on my paint job.

Yes, I feel that confident. A note to women: this is the feeling men get when they're enthusiastic about something. Also to note, we're generally very unstable during this as well and would do thing we normally wouldn't, and the words coming out of our mouths might be slightly... awkward to what we'd normal exclaim. If I'm every playing games on that feeling, or especially playing Starseige: Tribes, then I will be doing unimaginably well.

Guys tend to get this feeling when playing or watching sports as well which is why you'll see some shirtless guy with his rolls of fat colored green and gold yelling at the field during games. Let me explain further into this:

You see a guy at a rocking party who shouts "Whooo!" with a crowd of people; this guy is not feeling it. "Whoo" does not properly express this feeling one gets when inebriated by the rush. A guy who truly is expressing the proper manner of this is banging their hand against something, shouting loudly, randomly punching in the air over and over, and generally making a fool of themselves. However, this "fool" could care less about your derogatory comments and opinions because they're so distracted by their natural-high. Of course, one can't exactly be too sure about this because the guy might actually be focused on you instead, which can be a good thing or a bad thing.

Girls don't understand why men could possibly act this way. To them, men would be no more than rabid animals, celebrating in their minds and foolish actions. We might be considered simple-minded during this state, but any guy can testify that their thoughts aren't even conscious. Why? Our minds are being floored by everything all at once, that's why. We're not thinking, we're not predicting, and we're not ourselves. Everything goes by pure instinct for us during this time, and we're ready to take on just about every challenge that comes our way.

Why do men do such stupid things? Because our hormones trigger this effect, and we love it.

With that little thought out of the way, it's time for my personal thoughts.

I'm falling behind in my readings of Amy Tan's "The Bonesetter's Daughter". This story, surprisingly enough, interested me as soon as I began reading it. Amy Tan does a wonderful job at expressing her characters and having the readers contemplate what will happen in the future. "Why is Precious Auntie mute?" - "What is wrong with LuiLing" - "Why is Ruth not married to Art" - and many more questions go about one's mind when reading the story through and through. I haven't gotten too far in it, but I'm looking to spend the good majority of today reading up on it.

Speaking of reading, there's a professional writer coming to college today and I'll be attending his seminar. As an aspiring writer, I feel the need to learn as much about writing as I possibly can, so I'm hoping to gain a great deal of insight from this person. This man, George Singleton, will be sharing one of his stories with us and describing his life as a writer. What I like about this man is that he displays the true world of the South, unlike the stereotypical views that I know many people have.

Just for everyone's information: I've lived in South Carolina for seventeen years of my life. I dislike grits, I'm not a fan of cornbread, I don't care about the Confederate flag, I'm not racist, and I don't have a Southern accent. What's that? I don't talk like a Redneck? Jus cuz I be livin' in tha South all ma' life dunnent mean I talk like dis all tha' time. I know - isn't it astonishing? As a friend of mine put it: "Southern stereotypes are overdone and need to be shot."

I have a feeling that I will enjoy tonight's presentation.

Bawitdaba da bang a dang diggy diggy...

Change my attempt / Good intentions...

Ugh...

What a morning I've had thus far.

Five a.m. is when I wake up with a groggy notion and I lay awake. Anyone who knows me knows that I am NOT a morning person, and that I am not in the greatest of moods when I lack sleep. I find that having a restful night gives me some closure in life. What I mean to say is that when I set my alarm clock, I intend to sleep until that alotted amount of time, and I hope to wake up nigh instantaneously, as per usual.

That's what's weird. I wake up and I'm (usually) instantly awake. I'm not in some drunken state, nor am I all too tired. This means that I can hardly get any sleep afterwards. Yes, it "sucks" big time considering the time I woke up this morning. I can honestly say I only managed to pull up some three hours or so worth of sleep. While I'd love to skip class today and get that well-earned sleep back, I HAVE to attend Philosophy if I want to pass. It's one of those classes that takes attendance every day and is strict about the rules. Also, I have a math class where I need to work on this group project with people and eventually get to present a certain equation on the board.

Mind you, I love presenting and giving my ideas, but I hate doing work when I'm tired.

At least I get a two hour break in between classes to do what I want. Frankly, I'd like nothing more than to curl up on one of those couches and pass out. I would too if I didn't fear being late for class that afternoon; That's the breaks, folks.

What do I have scheduled for this week?

1. English paper revision Thursday.
2. Physics homework Thursday.
3. Some writer coming Tuesday. (No institute for me this week)
4. Black and White 2 on Tuesday.
5. Math presentation Wednesday.

That's my major issues this week, and there will be plenty more to come, I'm sure. I seriously hate my life these days...

*sighs* ... Wish I could fly away.

Tempests bring about new soil to the land.

Early Mornings...

"Long time no see, James."

Yes, it's been a couple days since I've seen you, of friend of friends. So why are you here this time around? Another figment of my imagination thought up to keep myself company through my troubled times? Or are you just looking to torment me some more like you did the other time around?

"Just thought I'd give you another visit. Is that so wrong?"

Verily. No good seems to come from you anyway.

"Offensive this time, aren't we?"

Keeps me sane, what can I say? Not that talking to myself is all that sane in the first place, but I suppose a little conversation with you isn't going to kill me.

"Indeed. Killing you would be a bit contradictory to my own existance, would it not?"

Yeah yeah, get to the point. I know you have some sort of lesson you want to teach to me this time around, right? This is a journal, you know, and it wouldn't make sense for us to have some senseless discussion between the two of us about some angsty feelings that I get all the time with you. Care to tell me what it is that you're here for?

"Not to sure, you just brought me out and decided to talk with me. I guess I'll go from there. Early in the morning, this time, you woke up rather early and couldn't get back to sleep. I wonder why..."

Same reasons everyone else stays up: I can't get any sleep.

"Restless and discontent with the world?"

You could say that.

"Then I suppose I'll give you the company you desire. Friend, why do you write?"

Why do I write? Strange question but I suppose I'll give you and answer.

The reason that I write so much is that I can convey my emotions feely through my words. While I am unable to put in a tone, a pitch, or a particular voice to those words, I find myself quite enjoying the freedom of expressing myself over a page. That's probably one of the reasons why I write such long entries into an otherwise dull journal, or diary if you will. I guess you can't exactly call it either of those. This blog of mine is just some place I let loose my feelings and emotions for all to see, even if I only get spammers and advertisers posting comments in here. Those tick me off, but I don't want to push them asside just yet, or anyone else.

"Lonesome?"

Perhaps, but I figure there is no real harm in it. If they want to comment on what I write, then so be it.

"You don't exactly leave too much to be said after all your ellaboration though."

Truthfully, that's one of the many problems with my writing. I like to write in detail until I'm satisfied with what I've written, as if it were an accomplishment. It would seem that I'm only trying to satisfy myself and don't seem to care what anyone else has written, doesn't it?

"But you'd rather they write in response to you, greedy child."

Watch with the names. I really only want to be listened to.

"Egotistical as well."

Cute...

"Everyone in life is like that. Everyone wants some form of prominence and recognition from others. It's only natural that you would desire what all other humans wish for. You write lengthy, "well-written" comments of certain issues that concern you, then you look around and hope that some one takes the time to listen to such words from you. It's your way of running the race and trying to win the marathon. Here you are, almost seven in the morning, talking to a fictional character who is talking back to you. It's almost sad, but quite interesting as well. Words that you think of come out of me and enter into the internet, open to the ideas of everyone else."

"You should write a book about you and I, you know?"

Yeah, I thought about that the other day. It's too bad that Broken Ink isn't taking any more submissions or else I'd make a little story between us. Do you think I'm crazy?

"No, I don't. I merely think you're compensating for the lack of a listener."

You're probably right. What should I do about it?

"You could talk to some one that doesn't always say what you want them to say. You could actually go out with your friends and chat about different principles. Maybe you can keep a few of them off the topic of women too."

Yes... they do seem to care a great deal about that.

"And so should you."

Oh I do... more so than most anyone can realize.

"Poor baby..."

Stop patronizing me.

Ghosts tend to linger and watch, only offering whispers to those who'll listen.

Shades

Feeling a bit better today. Though, I must say that I'm extremely tired today and was very stressed as soon as I woke up. I had slept in my dress clothes (just in case I screwed up in the morning and became late for church) and woke up as groggy as ever. As nine o'clock rolled around, I drove to church and noticed something strangely odd. Upon looking at the clock, it was nine, the parking lot was empty, and I had become entirely paranoid of everything for a few seconds.

Okay, did my dad set back all the clocks? I know he laughed earlier...
Maybe I'm a bit early?
Well it's Conference weekend so maybe they're all at Augusta.
Hmm... I need to get more gas (NOTE: Darn you gas prices).

Apparently, church was starting at 11:30 due to the Conference.

But anyway, I'm feeling much better with myself, as I mentioned, and am glad I went to church yesterday. It was the first Priesthood session I attended and there was ice cream! Yes, ice cream at church in large gallon conatiners. Seriously, you wish you had four containers of ice cream with a variety of flavors while being surrounded by a bunch of people that you know the names to and just talk to everyone. I was honestly feeling like crud for some odd reason before I went, but I felt great afterwards just hung out. I can honestly say that Brother Branhurst is one of the greatest guys to talk to.

Brother Branhurst is so darn cheery! And I don't mean the annoying cheery that should be sedated by medicine but the smiles-all-the-time and looks-very-happy-no-matter-what cheery. He gives off this wonderful aura and you just feel good tlaking with him. On top of all that, we were joking about the ice cream when the signal on the Priesthood session went out twice, and afterwards I mentioned it again. Before I knew it, there was a container of royal fudge in my arms and I was talking about how it was my mother's birthday to the guy.

Yes, I enjoy the people at church. Being a new member was strange to me because I didn't know what to expect from people. When I came into the place, I was afraid that there would be no one for me to talk to. I was wrong, to say the least. As I walked down the hallway to church, I found a round man walking down the opposite end, a giant smile upon his face. His eyes lay behind a pair of spectacles and his grey hair was of different shades. Upon his back was a grey blazer and matching pants. The man woke up to me and greeted me happily, shaking my hand vigorously. Brother Tuckfield was his name, and I would remember it for a number of reasons (the main one being that he was my institute teacher). The seconds person I met would have to have been Brother Branhurst, and I knew I would like this guy (for reasons I already stated).

Near the end of my first time I church, I met people who were welcoming me with open arms and talked with me like I was already a part of their community. John invited me to go with him to institute and I met even more individuals there. Sure, all the guys there were older than I was. The only ones who were my age were the girls, and even they were older. This is what happens when you join the church at my age, especially for my particular gender.

But... I didn't mind at all. I love the people there and I hope to get to know them more so than presently.

This is why I had a better day today: I realized how important the church is to me.

Persevere to the end and you'll shine forever.

Lost...

My life has been a boring one, to say the least. I'm less average than most guys in the respect that I hardly ever went out, I hardly ever did anything exciting, and I stayed home most of my childhood. That's probably one of the reasons I grew up as a loner rather than an outwardly social individual. It wasn't until the freshmen year of my highschool education that I realized how I was.

Mr. Koon, the greatest teacher of all time, was busy talking about life and society. He was mentioning how people would go out often, how people would be anti-social, and how people acted all together. As an example of a loner, he dropped my name and mentioned how I might be perfectly happy with being the way I was. Inside, I felt a bit insulted that he'd done such a thing and pointed me out blatantly, like my name had been slandered some how. Truthfully, however, I felt he was right in assuming I was a loner and hardly ever went out except when necessary. Also, he was right to assume I was satisfied with my loneliness in life. And why would I need to do anything else? All I felt I needed was at my disposal: education, games, food, and shelter.

Basic wants fulfilled and very little desire for much else was how I lived.

I wanted some friends, though I never really sought them out. I always wanted them to come to me, and I never tried to put myself out there to people in order to become someone special. Indeed, it's my own fault for not being so... unambitious.

These days, I find myself wanting more than what I've received in the past. I find the thirst for society's acknowledgement, for recognition amongst my peers. To seek out friends and companions is something I strongly desire these days. In truth, I lust for accomplishment, though my motivation wanes constantly. Alas, I find that a person my age also seeks out love too, one of the most important aspects of life. Some one to share my thoughts and knowledge with. Some one who will listen to me and give their own insight on a matter, attempting to have me recognize them as well. A person who cares and would hold me tenderly in an attempt to calm me; to sooth my soul when I am crying inwardly. An indiviual who knows when there's a hint of trouble in my voice, even when no one else can.

I think I'm greedy, at times, when I consider all the desires I have these days. I wish to be an aspiring writer as well as an accomplished astronomer. Those dreams are very far away and difficult to obtain. There are times where I wonder if such a goal is possible; if I am not just fooling myself into thinking I can achieve such taunting persuits.

Today I was attending church all day, going back and forth with my trusty suit on and my books in hand. I sat there, behind the missionaries, and stared at the projected sceen at the end of the room, words echoing into my ears. As I turned away, I noticed people laying down and resting, eyes blinking carelessly at the screen. They looked tired, but they still strived to listen into the conversation being had. And there were people resting against one another; families.

"Will I ever have a family like that?" I wondered, "One that shares my faith and beliefs? That cares about my opinion and my input? One that relies upon me and loves me?"

My eyes then returned to the screen, watching as they talked about missionary work and families. They shared concerns about companionship and the respect women should receive, and the Priesthood as well. I turned my eyes away and glanced over at the missionaries next.

"Some day... I'll be like them," my inner monologue continued, "bound by teachings and absent from the love of my friends and the love of some one special."

They are strong, I'll give them that. I appreciate them much more these days after realizing how hard it must be to stay that far away from a cherished peron, let alone a family. How they must suffer at night... thinking about those which they can not see or feel.

I miss someone special to me as well; some one I can not hold and comfort when she desires, nor when I desire. It's nearly been a week since the sting, and I've recovered a great deal of my sanity, to say the least. Still... those nights in bed.

They are such strong men.

Guide yourself into the right direction; it is your choice to follow it.