Boring

I had to say, I have some good friends. I spent some time and examined my life today and found that it's quite boring. So boring, so terribly boring. Boring enough to be boring to talk about. But, lucky you, here it is. I found that my weekly schedule is almost the same to within a five minute variance from week to week. Also the people I meet and talk with are a select and controlled group that only allows for less than 10 new people a week, and the same group of 12ish otherwise. I know I complained once college ended, but seriously this is just sad. Luckily, sometimes people surprise you, and as I said before, I have great friends. I posted something about my boringness and had three people respond who I have not heard from in months and in some cases years. It means a lot to know such people who after in some cases years of neglect of contact still care.

Also I got to sit next to a girl, ok so she is a friend but it was nice to chat for a bit as she spent the time she should have been working to stop by. It meant a lot and made me smile most of the day. Here, and I had thought I had lost her.

On to the medievalist in me, I found this by complete accident while researching other various medieval manuscripts. It's fascinating really, and I find it so ironic how I love language... and yet loath it so much at the same time...

Crossed

Well, keep your fingers crossed if you care to, or if you do not believe in silly superstitions then don't. I may have finally found a job. This makes me happy but its not over yet, there is still the matter of getting it, doing well at it, and then beating the game called life.

I find technology ironic, I sit here on the internet, interfacing with both a global and a local and a virtual network all at the same time, and I don't have running water in my house at the moment. Whatever.

I came across a true piece of logical thought on the internet the other day which amazed me. I found on a forum and well, see for yourself:

post1:
"ITT: Ask one of America's biggest celebrities anything.
Except who I am."

post2:
"OP is more then likely a troll.

Either way, should have known better then to make an exception on "ask me anything"

That exception is your rule, that rule is made to be broken, and the only questions you are going to get are about that one rule."

Now I am proud of my fellow man for this. It is clear, simple, rational and logical. And it was found on the internet, whoda' thought.

I know it's been a while. I've been sleeping, working, running from my self, going in circles, you know the norm.

The Good Ship Argo

My fair readers, I greet you kindly.

Somehow I know not what to write today. There was so much I wanted to tell you, but I am stuttering as my fingers are still, unable to form the things I wished to say. I feel like an adventure should be at hand soon. I wish to go somewhere, a place with history. A place to loose myself in the moment. See, I come to realize that I am rather boring. I have the same routine, which runs like clockwork. I see the same people in the same places. It is all very comfortable... too comfortable. I do give thanks for my mother in these times, who does what she can to think of me in the little ways like getting the soda only I like, or bringing me home leftovers. She is a kind woman. Speaking of women I almost wrote about them recently, not in a negative or positive light but rather in a historical mythologic retrospective sort of way. The role of women and the ideas of femininity in myths is, dare I say, even more interesting than the portrayal of masculinity. This does in fact relate to my life in one way or another. See first, in conjunction with women and realizing that I am boring, I fear that the wonderful young lady I have spoken of for the past few months, bless her soul, will never actually care about me or even make time for me. Granted this was exactly what I asked, that she not go out of her way to make time for me. And so with a smile and a laugh I say that it is my loss, to have gained exactly what I asked for, but not what I wanted. But she is a good person, and not even slightly sarcastically do I say that I hold no ill will towards her and will be glad to simply continue to be a friend. Also related, while in the car ride back from the park with my brother the other day, I read the original story of Beauty and the Beast. Now I'm not talking Cupid and Psyche, as I have read and translated that before, but I am speaking of the french version by Mme Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont (ok so this was the second original version, whatever). I have always loved this story, and reading one of the earliest french versions is both moving and comical. But let me be the first to say that like my Russian, my French is not good, that and the story was only a few full pages long. I sympathize with this story. I am ugly and stupid, and I wish a kind virtuous beauty would help me to become more than that which I am...


Lord, thank you for the rain.

Burnt

Yeah, so I'm not yet done with the post on the qualities of the dead. Yesterday I went to an amusement park with my family. Man, an hour in the car with my brother is painful, he never stops talking. Sadly I got burned... real bad... my head is oozing right now. But luckily it's so bad that I don't really have skin anymore and it does not hurt a whole lot. I guess it's time to give in and finally use sun screen on my poor bald head. I must finally admit defeat to the baldness. *Sigh*

The Exile

What kind of life is that of the exiled self? Where the past hurts deep and the present burns relentlessly. Where the self is lost because to find it is to once again know the bitter taste of weeping and gnashing of teeth. Where the choice of exile and death, the choice to live in the baron wastes is more comforting than that of living with others and sharing with them. The longing and emptiness is greater than the breadth of the ocean, and just as daunting to cross. This is how far I run, and where I hide. I have seen too much of love, and from that I know the emptiness that is to be without love. I have learned too much of hate and of lies and of neglect to let me convince myself that I could once again find love in another. When for years the only true word is no. The sad thing is, respect is kept for those who say that word and mean it, rater than those who do not say that word, but whose deceptions prove its truth. I did not sleep this night, I am haunted and alone. To be alone is a dry place, but to be without hope is like having a great thirst while in a dry place. Somehow death sounds like comfort, as there is no rest in rest. There is no one to share my burden, but then again that is not my wish. Why must I go on? Why can't I quit? Is it not cruel to prologue the suffering of a lame animal. One with no hope of a greater existence than this. Or can I learn from the heart of joy of another again. One who will not feed me the empty calories of lies to satisfy my body's needs. Catch 22... I am alone because I cannot escape, I cannot escape because I am alone.

Music and ... Music

I'm working on a piece concerning the traits of the dead (drastically different from, yet related to the characteristics of the undead). Once I finish that piece it will go up. I've been thinking more musically lately. Several songs have come and gone. And somehow as time goes by I connect songs to people, places and events (and video games). Normally this happens because a song is either popular or drastically overplayed at the same time that I am working through a video game. For example, every time I hear "Away From the Sun" I think of KotOR. Or whenever I hear anything by Matchbox 20 I think Diablo 2. When I am depressed I get into a Gordon Lightfoot kinda mood. When I'm angry I feel more like Coheed and Cambria. When I think of the past I feel the acoustics come upon me. When my bad-ass-e-ness reaches its peak and I rule the world this is my theme song. Related is the song I hear when I know I must do something alone. When I have failed romantically Del Amitri sings my mood. In my mind Iver sings the theme of my dream girl (truth be told I love the piano best). Most days I Shimmer as time goes by. When life is simple and good, I hear Frank softly in the background.

All in all, symbolism, although unrelated to emotions, more properly evokes and connects with them in my mind. Right now I'm just waiting, that is the phase of my life at the present.

I shall not explain myself apart from how I have expressed the connections at hand. Listen, feel, read, and know.

Dis-gust

How do I express my disgust with life? Time for some whining... I just don't understand it. How can such evil be allowed to happen in life? Life is in essence not fair, and that is an accepted fact, but why is it so? Nothing is even and disappointment reigns supreme. I want until I have, then I am dissatisfied. I eat because I hunger, then I eat more because I desire. I am, not because I chose to be, but was forced to become. It's a fascinating conundrum. If you are the religious sort, I apologize for my offense, but continue with it none the less. How is it that we are made to be who we are, with our individual qualities and faults, even our reactions to stimuli a foregone conclusion, then we are placed in an environment where we are subjected to trials, the results of which are known before the tests occur, then we are judged for them. The deck is not just stacked against us, it is stacked in such a way as to not let us win. There is no fair, and no fair chance, these are lies. I don't know where they came from but even in religion they are lies. The only solution to the unfairness of the weighted game is more unfairness. Divine providence and choice to elect some and not others. More unfairness, and this based on what sounds like free choice on the part of something we can't understand. I ache and my soul groans and burns with pain and anger at the evils that occur around me. And I have become numb to many which is sickening. I am angry, I am frustrated, with myself and life, with what is and what is not. Mainly I'm pissed at what has been allowed to transpire and today I have no patience for my fools blanket of safety which says "somehow this is the best of all possible worlds." Today there is no silver lining, today I believe things could be better than they are and I am pissed about that.

Oh, yesterday I learned that I got totally lied to and ripped off a couple years ago, in such a way as to set me up for more failure and embarrassment. It was great, nothing like the moment of epiphany that tells you that you are in fact an idiot.




On an encouraging note, I quote a friend:

"Smile for no reason, Laugh just because, Dance in the random, Love always, think positive in the moment; you will be happy in the now and forever will always be the next breath! "Make today, Now, this second, this moment......... Yours" Get at em~"

F.I.N.E.

The past few days have gone well. I was fortunate enough to spend one of them with friends climbing. On my first attempt I scaled the beginner wall, and on my second topped the full length version. Not bad, not too hard either except for that whole fingers not working any more thing. Otherwise not much has happened. I've sortta fallen into this rut of not much going on, and not for lack of trying otherwise. I have no real romantic prospects to speak of (the one I've been working towards feels like I'm getting nowhere fast), I have no real job to speak of, I have no real motivation left. Life is not bad, its like a vacation... in an empty gray void... alone... forever. Which is in fact quite peaceful, albeit lonely and boring.

One thing I have done that breaks the deja-vu is repair and re-make the gladius. Today I dropped it off at the office of my college Latin professor. Somehow, its as if my creations do not naturally belong to me, as I must give them away. And sadly when they return I am greatly insulted. A gift of time, sweat, and tedious labor should not be lightly shunned and sent back. Hopefully, in the hands of a master the blade will rest well this time.

There are no houses in Tuscany

Ah life. Got wind of an open teaching job and went in the next day to apply. The job itself was for a literature teacher, and thus right up my alley. I had heard that the place was desperate and willing to take anyone qualified. Funny thing is it appears that I am becoming more and more qualified for teaching (yeah so I should have realized that subbing would do that). Well, after waiting for an hour and a half the first words I was told concerning the job were "That position has been filled." Great. A good waste of a morning getting up early, dressing up, driving there, waiting over an hour to talk to someone, then being told that it was a waste of time. Oh well, I can now just hope that if I was to have gotten the job that I would have hated it for whatever reason and this is a good thing. And at the least I can take it as a positive extension of my exceedingly long unpaid summer break.

Something to write home about

Well okay, so I have nothing, but I needed a title. And did you like the last post. Such beauty, such simplicity, such artistic license. But on the bright side, there is always hope. As you should know well, I have the slight propensity to over analyze everything and then draw extreme conclusions based on arbitrary statistics and probabilities which become more and more far fetched. But luckily I have a few friends who help remind me of this and keep me from abandoning ship when it looks like it could storm. If I jumped out now, I would miss the whole of the journey.

Last night I had a strange dream. I dreamed that I had decided to go to grad school, at UVA. Odd though because I was on the W&M campus... And just about everyone I knew from my undergrad work was there... most of them married (as they now are). I had gotten lost, and was in my underwear, but I proudly walked the campus in my white and pink striped boxers because I could pull it off and look good. I never did find my class though...

Another day, another burned bridge

I don't suffer fools well. Granted all people make judgments on that which is gained through first sight and contact. But those who would surmise an entire person's character from a single spoken word are just asking for life to kick them in the arss.

The longer I live the more I see life as a comedic tragedy. When distanced from the pain it is almost funny how badly most things work out, and sometimes funny how the things that work well come to be. At other times, when caught up in the storm, all I see is pain, and all I feel is heartache.

So many suspicions, so many contingencies, so much that is unknown. It really is too bad that people don't talk any more. Worse so that when they do omission is chosen over truth more often than not. Going back to my idea of ironic self-destructive protection, or simply just disrespect.

Which reminds me, who was the fool who decided "what you don't know can't hurt you" because that is a terrible lie and in general a bad policy.

[REDACTED]

Life, primordially

Congratulations go out to a friend. So many are married and now having children. So here's to you guys, to your health and happiness!

She gave me a pen

Spent the past few days trying to get a new hard drive working, having cloned the old one. Also got a new old phone working, it just looks like it was hit by a car. Sitting here watching "Say Anything" which I think at about 65 min in spawned the idea for the movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." 80's drama movies are interesting. They had something, some quality that makes them make me smile. Kinda like 90's action movies, they just have that quality of simple stupid honesty. It's like they're saying "yeah, our effects, script, or acting isn't the best, but all together we tell a good story."




I wish we could write our own love story, you and I

We'd meet at the market or at the bar

You'd ask me if I like dancing

I'd tell you that I love it but I can't dance

I'd ask you if you like watching movies while its raining

You'd tell me that you only watch chick flicks

And I'd admit in confidence that I do too

You'd make fun of me, but before the night is done

We'd both be watching a girlie movie, and then go dancing in the street, in the rain

I'd step on your feet, but you wouldn't care

I'd try to kiss you on the forehead before I go, and you'd head but me on accident

We'd both laugh at ourselves, in the rain, in the dark, the end to a perfect day.