| Wake the Dragon |
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| 01:20am 19/05/2007 |
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I've learned a secret over the years. It's not a good secret, or a happy secret, but it is one just the same. Silence, when you have the ability and the will to speak with me, is an answer. I am full of emotion and desires that I had successfully laid down to rest, mostly, and you chose to wake them up. And for many reasons, I need the power that sleeps coiled at my core to awaken.
It's time for me to awaken. Each step forward, I see more of my own power, my own strength. I understand what Sam saw in me and the endless frustration to help piece back together what was shattered.
Now it's time, as the eyes inside of me begin to open. I am Waking the Dragon. I could draw to my limit and draw more, and each day my focus improves, my emotion improves, my abilities improve.
Did I drive up to your house, did you read my mind, did you know the magic suffusing my spine?
And for you, shadowmoon, I will leave open a door should you ever choose to walk through it. All my promises are kept, save those that you brought into contention one with another - those are broken.
I wait. I watch. I sleep coiled centered in the middle of me. All that was set free I am, I will be.
Do you understand truely terrible will? Do you understand what it means to push past your limits to expand them?
It's time to begin again. Perhaps I will die young or old, but I'll die fighting for my endless dreams.
I am a leader, and I will set the world on fire before I am done. |
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| Balance. |
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| 04:35am 01/05/2007 |
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So. This feeling, this new thing floating in my soul like carbonation...
I think it's called "longing".
But I'm not sure yet. It's a lot like "missing" but more poignant. |
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| Silence |
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| 05:05pm 29/04/2007 |
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So, I sit in silence and ponder. I listen to music, but the silence in my head is so loud I can't hear it.
The simplest of all questions - Will you return, and if so, when?
This cold gnawing feeling would be the lonely that used to drive me. I wonder what I am now, somehow I've ended up all too human. I guess I won, but I feel like I've just lost again.
Here's to solitude, here's to silence, here's to the void inside my head filled with the silent screams, and the voices say nothing today but
sorry. we miss you. come back to us. we are worth fighting for.
Because I don't know why you chose to disappear. But, I know there was a way for you to not disappear and you did not choose it. I know I could have called you but you did not choose it.
Wonder what happens next. I wait, I watch, I'm curious. Here's a chance to break a trend.
And here's to declaration when I/we were wrong. I'm not just waiting, I'm hoping, I'm dreaming. Lonliness is a knife which I have been accustomed to. Love is not predictable or understandable.
Here's to faith. Here's to believing without evidence that yeah - She's fighting for me cause I am worth it. She is silent because she's too damn proud. She always has been.
Simplest solution. Maybe not the right answer, maybe not the best, but it's the best I know, and I have to be true to myself. |
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| The effect you have. |
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| 11:38pm 23/04/2007 |
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mood:  stressed music: Ghost Music in my Skull
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Most people come and go, and I don't really mind one way or another.
Right now, I'm stressed right the hell out. There have been lots and lots of good things that have happened, a lot of things that have changed in very good ways. But, there's so much change, and there is stress from that change for me. I don't know what to expect from myself, or Jen, or my housemates. I don't know what to expect from my parents, but my cat is still a snot.
I've pushed myself to the jittery edge today. Right before the world starts to shade yellow, and I shake apart and reassemble only to repeat the cycle. It's the burn-out edge of being the best, of pushing harder, longer, then everyone else. You have to absorb the information faster, parse it better, understand it quicker. You have to hear more sharply, respond quicker, you have to be more awake then 300 other people.
The challenge is so exciting. The strain of being right at your limit, of feeling the burn in your soul as you strain, is indescribable. It's something you work for, something you earn, day in and day out. Your entire life centers around being the best, of seeking the hardest challenge, of surmounting the insurmountable. And, at the same time, you pull everyone around you up, and so much swirls around you and you cannot afford to be brittle or tired or distracted. It's the ultimate balancing act, it's the ultimate thrill, it's like driving a car down that twisty mountain road at a hundred miles an hour in a rainstorm and knowing you're perfect, that your skill is so refined that the road itself whispers in your ear softly through the whine of the engine, telling you the tolerances, how you can turn harder there but you can't brake here, how your tires need to be two inches to the left to not break away from the asphalt, and it has a message written in the stones and tar so clearly you can see it through the rain.
It's Dead Mans Pass in Oregon, in a thunderstorm, in a 28 year old SR5 Corolla, doing 80 down a mountain pass, passing semi's with one wiper blade and all you have to find your position by are the lights of the semi and the reflections off the wet concrete on the other side. It's knowing that in this moment, you have the entire world balanced on the end of a pin. It's feeling the perfection of the moment into your bones.
Every day in this environment I strive for that absolute perfection. You can feel it, through the soles of your feet and the tips of your fingers. You can feel it echo in the timbre of your answers, and you know so completely that you have the right answer that the certainty of your conviction convinces everyone who is listening, this man knows. This man is correct. This man has it down pat.
Some days I get it. Most days, now. Some days I don't. But in order to get there, I have to eat the right kind of breakfast. I have to have enough of this but not too much of that. I have to be careful of my mood, because it also must be just perfect. My outlook has to be stable. I can't focus too much, I have to coast, I have to hear the message in the call (not the caller) so perfectly that I already know the routes that I can take. I have to recognize the sickly green sound of the call you leave as quickly as possible, and the rich full ring of a call you spend a little extra time on.
Do it for a year and a half. Dance a year of it perfect, inside all the lines, dancing, dancing, dancing. Every foot perfect because it's time to be, because it's what you are. Gain respect and become visible, and dance like a feather.
Dance this dance on the ragged edge of information overload, strain right to the edge of mental shutdown day after day, burn like a phoenix new born from the ashes. Be the best, be perfect, be what they envy. Gain respect. Day, after day, seek nothing but challenge. Push harder, faster stronger as your limitations push back further. Balance eight numbers, one against the other to obtain perfection. Balance.
It's the perfect moment, the glory as strain turns in to agony, and you know you're playing with burn out. You know you can fry yourself at this, and you play with that match, teasing it, letting it grow stronger.
Then change everything at your life as the sweetness of drawing of yourself so deeply turns into pain, and hold the stress from all those changes close. Everything comes down to these seconds, these moments.
You do the unexpected, and your life doubles in size. Your personal responsibility increases. Dance, perfect, step by step. Find yourself overwhelmed by fear, plagued by doubts, and face them one by one in two days. Be calm on the third. Skip sleep. On the fourth, be perfect again. Stretch your wings, dragon.
But don't let that flame go out, because that's burnout, that's out of fuel, exhausted your reserves. So push, strain, be perfect in every step down to your bones. Let yourself push to 110% of what you're capable of. Let yourself push to 120%... 140%. Know that you can handle the strain of doing more then you should be able to do. Remove your limitations.
But don't run out of fuel, because that's when you die.
And you, Jen. You tangle me up, twist me around, and I love you for it. Because, I'm too good to burn out, and I know it. I can push harder, I can do more longer then any of my plans allowed room for. I will succeed. When I visit, or when you visit, I'm probably going to drag you off somewhere and use you as a pillow. |
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| 07:35pm 22/04/2007 |
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mood:  cheerful
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Day before yesterday, I was afraid. Yesterday, I was full of doubt. Today, I just miss you, and I'm ready for you to come back.
You see, I've fallen for you - hook, line and sinker. I don't know what to do with it or how I'm supposed to act, so I'm just trying to act in a fashion that seems right. I shouldn't be as much of a burden as I have been, if indeed I have been. I know I can act in a fashion that is more acceptable to myself. I'm calm, now. I've regained my equilibrium, but I'm so head over heels I feel like I'm tumbling down a snowbank, and the world is white flurries of the stuff. I don't know what I'll do with you. I don't ever want to find out what I'd do without you again.
I don't have alot of fancy words. I just happen to need you, not this moment or today, but in my life in general.
And, while I was writing this, you came back on. I've missed you. The calmness did remain. |
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| Crash - Day 2. |
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| 06:23am 22/04/2007 |
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mood:  exhausted
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This is eating at me, gnawing and gnawing, and I have to spew it out to move past it on this accelerated journey I've put myself on.
Let me start with a chronology.
Many months ago, but less then a year, I was introduced to Marie. The intent of the friend who introduced us was for us to get together, permanent like. She's the kind of geek grrl who wears Cisco shirts. Perfect match, right? At this friends request, I got to know her. She was desperately hurting. She had recently lost someone whom she still considers the love of her life because he was cheating on her and traded her in for a younger model.
Now, you have to understand, I have never seen Marie. Never even been in the same half of the US, basically, since long before I knew she existed. This doesn't really meet my qualifications for somebody I've been in love with or had a relationship with - Because I never have, and, never did.
But anyway, I got to know her. Then I sat down for about five minutes and considered her as a prospect. My answer was no.
We discussed it for maybe twenty minutes all told. Her conclusions were much the same as mine, although of course she reached them a completely different way then me.
The last day I really spoke with Jen, I realized Marie had fallen. Marie asked if I had met someone and fallen in love, and I said, basically, what if I have? Does that mean anything to you really?
Marie wouldn't, and didn't, answer that question. At that point a half dozen things snapped in to place - Like the fact I was the one she brought possible designs for her company to, to help her decide what was best one. Marie had fallen for me.
I have no space for another person to be dreaming about me. So I told Marie, in very succinct and short sentences that I had found somebody I have loved dearly for many years still loved me. Somebody I still dreamed about but had thought hated me, loved me. The person I regretted the most losing, still loved me.. And, I still loved her.
I was so short because Jen was very hurt. I made the decision to keep everything honest. She took this to make "There has been no one else" a lie. I think it hurt her deeply, but what can I do? I could have lied. I don't think she believed the truth, but what can I do?
So I have this doubt gnawing at the back of my head. "What if Jen decided everything I said was a lie? What if my precious jenbaby thought that ill of me?" What can I do? I can hunker down small and let this fear pass through me. I can stretch out and go to sleep.
Lets apply Occam's razor to this doubt.
For those who don't know, this is Occam's razor: "entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem." The english translation is "entities should not be multiplied beyond necessity." The principle states that the explanation of any phenomenon should make as few assumptions as possible, eliminating, or "shaving off," those that make no difference in the observable predictions of the explanatory hypothesis or theory. This is often paraphrased as "All things being equal, the simplest solution tends to be the best one."</wikipedia>
So lets line up our facts. During the conversation in question, Jen did say "Didn't you think of how this would affect me?" Of course I did. And I imagined nothing like what happened, but that's beside the point.
Let's add several other things to the mix. Jen's housemate was thinking of terminating their high-speed internet to save money. Jen had to loan her cellphone to her mother. Jen loves me. Jen stated after this conversation, that no, she was not going to leave me nor was she considering it in the last interaction we had. Jen was incredibly exhausted (As was I) from the amount of contact we were trying to maintain. Jen has been put on an opening switch to closing shift, the old "Quit so we don't have to fire you" gambit at her current place of employment. Jen is stubborn and doesn't want to quit. She has Chance, and she'd do anything for that boy. I like that about her.
So, lets mix these together and come up with possible theories, based on a principle which I've found to be generally true: "People believe what they believe because it is what they want to believe, or because it is what they fear to believe, but rarely because it is true."
Item One - the Scenario I fear: Jen has stopped talking to me because she thinks I am a liar and wants nothing more to do with me.
Item Two - The No-Ability Scenario (The scenario I want to believe.): Jen's mom borrowed the cellphone on the same day her housemate terminated the internet service, and she has no way to contact me, and is pushing herself harder trying to find a way then she already was.
Item Three - The Focus Scenario: Jen's mom borrowed her cellphone. She's been put on a switch close/open schedule to wear her down and make her quit, but because of her son she is not willing to let them win. So she is sleeping at every available opportunity, and is not speaking to me right now because she's constantly exausted and she is a mother, with a child she will do anything for.
Item One Disproof: Jen has known me for damn near a decade. She knows I won't lie to her. I doubt that I've changed enough to throw this into doubt, and I hope she understands I'd do damn near anything for her - even the impossible. (Richard and Kahlan, does anybody get the reference?) This scenario is actually the most unlikely, as it would indicate a shift in belief against all probability - and it would make Jen a liar, which I don't buy - An equally large shift.
Item Two Disproof: It's unlikely for both of these events to coincide without Jen knowing about it. Chances are were this the case, she would have warned me. Thirdly, I don't think she could have pushed much harder.
Item Three Disproof: I can't think of any reason that would disprove this. It is the most likely scenario, given all currently known facts. This is the one I choose to believe - Not because I fear it or want it, but because it is the most likely to be true.
I have allowed this doubt to pass through me. I have turned my minds eye upon its passing path, and I see only myself.
I have weathered another storm of doubt and fear. This one was harder then the first.
Jen, wherever you are, I'm rooting for you. Woohoo, go Jen! Show them who kicks the most ass!
and, now, I've been unable to sleep for hours. I'm going to try again. |
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Read 6 - Post |
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| conversation with a friend |
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| 08:53pm 21/04/2007 |
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Since for whatever reason I've decided to use this as a place where I record what all happens, I figure maybe I ought to do so.
Had a talk with an old friend recently. Not old in the grand scheme of things, but years.
They asked me what they had to do to become less scarred and I realized it all starts with forgiveness.
You have to forgive yourself, of you're stuck there and you can't move on. You have to forgive others, or you're trapped like a monkey with its hand in the knothole trying to take your baggage with you.
I can see this more clearly now because I don't hold any grudges or hatred so much anymore. I respect myself, and because of that I demand certain standards of behavior from myself. I'm putting pieces together still. There are always questions to ask and things to learn.
There's questions I have to ask myself too. And, there are doubts, and I owe myself the best answers I can give.
- "What if this place in me just remains fragile?"
- "What do I do if I remain weak?"
- "Can I get rid of this fear, or do I remain forever vigilant?"
- "What woman wants a man who is not arrogant and unafraid about everything?"
- "If I have become unacceptable to the only one I could never stop dreaming of, what do I do?"
- "What if she never returns?"
- "Why am I responsible for someone elses emotions?"
- "How could I be such a fool?"
- "Why can't I say the right words when it matters the most?"
- "What if she feels betrayed?"
- "How much do I trust her?"
And, I have to answer them.
- If this place remains fragile, then I will nurse it back to strength.
- If I remain weak, I will apply Sun Tzu's principles to it - appear strong so that my weak point is not attacked.
- If I can't get rid of this fear, I must remain vigilant - I refuse to be controlled by it again.
- I don't know. Hopefully I get to find out.
- I pick up the pieces and put them back together, and I go about the mathematically impossible task of finding another who can be what I need. But I got lucky as hell to find her, and I expect I'll look at millions before I find another.
- If she never returns, I won't know until I reach the point of forever. How long do I wait? Until I know the truth.
- I don't know why I'm responsible for someone elses emotions. It doesn't make sense to me; but the way I see the world is so skewed from "normal" I'm not sure it matters.
- Eh. See username. This is what I am, not who I chose to be.
- I don't know! I just know it is the most frustrating thing in the world, to say something wrong and find there's hell to pay. But there's nothing to do but pay until its payed off, and try again as much as I must to get what I'm trying to say, said. (What happens when I don't know the words?)
- If she feels betrayed, what can I do but meet her blood price? I don't think I could walk away from this if I wanted to, and would not if I could, for I do not want to.
- How much do I trust her? Absolutely. Implicitly. Trust can be a tool like any other, and the only way to test someones trustworthiness is to trust them. And, in almost a decade of trusting her, I have been rarely disappointed.
It is the me-that-was that was found wanting, and I am determined to do better. So I focus my will. I'm on a rollercoaster ride, and I don't know how long I'll have to face this issue, but I'll squeeze as much living into this time span as I get.
Most people never know any of the future. Sometimes, I get to see glimpses of the lace that is everyones lives, and every decision each one has. Sometimes it's so tangled, you just don't know. Sometimes, there are patterns to it.
Me, I want to meet my potential.
"I've left so many pieces of myself scattered along the way to get to where I am now, that there is a "me-that-was" that I do not comprehend.
It's like studying someone elses mind.
Me-that-was made alot of stupid choices, did alot of things that are so completely foreign to me that they make no sense.
What is it for a personality to know its own genesis? That question I can answer. But, understanding the person I was years ago? I couldn't get it if I tried. And, I have tried.
I can point to my own point of origin, my own private genesis... It's when the me-that-was shattered. December and September of 2001. I can tell you why, I can tell you all the stresses that built up until the personality matrix shattered and that me went insane.
I can relate to you the terrible will each piece that survived had, the absolute incapability of surrender, and I can relate to you the pieces of me-that-was that were consumed and burned away.
I can point to the wreck and say, "This is where I stopped carrying emotional baggage and it set me free; I dropped it because I could not remember it anymore." I also lost my eloquence, and you do not want to know the frustration and agony I have gone through to regain a portion of it. I can tell you what the baggage was, and I will not pick it up again.
I can point to almost two years ago and say, "This is where I lost emotion, this is where I lost fear, this is where I became enlightened and understood my life."
My life follows a plan, carefully orchestrated, a step-dance of knowledge and information. I'm wired, I'm tapped in, I'm building an exocortex of information, indexed and alphabetized, instantly accessible, and I will "know" everything about everything. But that doesn't mean I understand.
Now all my plans are turned on their ear, my life is turned on its head and it's spinning like a top, and I'm dizzy. I feel emotion, I feel for one person in this world, I have obtained that which I do not want to lose and it would be agony to lose it. The fear that arises from this is overwhelming, encompassing, and it is something that I must not be controlled by.
I cannot index what I would and would not do. Me-that-is has never encountered this situation. Me-that-is does not understand this situation. But me-that-is can compare this to the situations encountered by the me-that-was, and I do not understand why me-that-was did things so differently then me-that-is is doing them.
A personality that understands its own genesis, knows its point-of-origin and how it is put together loses many things. Many pieces of the original psyche, of the original Ego, of the orignal self by force no longer exist. The new personality is in some ways incomplete, is by definition insane, and goes about things in a different fashion. However, this kind of personality gains intrinsic benefits as well - I can control and accelerate how and why I learn. I can chose what impacts me and what does not, and to what extent. I can tweak myself. My insight comes with a great cost, but I paid it because me-that-was could not avoid it. Me-that-is will not return there.
So I have an opportunity, and I throw a part of myself into an accelerated "growing-up" process. Because I've found in myself an entire structure that has lain dormant for a long, long time. It is a structure that does not make sense to me yet, it is horribly damaged and dented, but it is so alive that I will incorporate it. And it, and it alone to my knowledge, used something besides terrible will to survive. It used a terrible will to find somebody to be tender to. The drive inside of myself to be tender to Jen is overwhelming.
It is also a structure with a trigger. When it triggered, and I do not know why it did so, I sought out Jen within five minutes after a couple years of not speaking with her. When I spoke with her, I could no more not fall in love with her then stop a tornado. When I fell in love, I could no more stay silent then I can contain a desert within my skin. When I spoke, I could no more stop speaking then I could hold Niagara falls in my bare hands.
A part of me did damage control. It whispered, and it writhed, and it was driven by the screaming voices in the silent void; "These are things that must not be lost, and this bit must not be sacrificed, if this fragment of self is sacrificed too much will be lost." There are fragments of myself I cannot lose, because the impact to my existance would compromise my own internal structural integrity. The last few fragments I have managed to hold on.
I am cunning and dangerous. I never let myself lose a battle unless being pushed back put me closer to my goal. I can be what I hate most to come close to the head of the snake which I despise, and destroy it. But, sometimes I feel like there's not enough of me.
I remember Gwen and Lance. I do not pretend to understand Lance, in some way he was still a knight, still believed in an externally established code of honor. I discarded my armor long ago because it was shattered. I discarded my code of honor because it cost me too much that I loved dearly. It cost me far, far too much.
I live life based on what I believe to be true; and these are things that I find inside of myself. I live my life based on what I believe to be right, and this rightness or wrongness is something I see. I do things the best way I know. I don't hesitate because I might learn later now, it is so much worse to not make a decision then to make the best decision you could.
Every area of my life has just undergone dramatic change, and it all hinges around a couple of traits I exhibit now. And, my friends say "The way you act this could be forever", and I hope it is. My friends say, "Take it slow, set it on a foundation of stone." I've almost a decade of foundation with her. I hope that's stone enough.
I don't know why I feel like I should mark this as public, but here goes. |
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Read 2 - Post |
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| Fear - Day 1. |
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| 05:13pm 21/04/2007 |
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mood:  mellow
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I found something out about myself this week I never expected to find in myself again. Fear. I've lived a long time quite contently by not having anything that I care if I lose, because I don't really care emotionally about anyone or anything. And, it has been good.
Now, I have someone I don't care to lose. And, I was overwhelmed by fear of losing her, out of nowhere and everywhere, out of some place so deep inside of myself I had forgotten that it was there; I haven't felt fear like this in more years then I care to count. It turned me in to a gibbering monkey, when I would live life as a man.
And, it has been 24 hours since I've spoken with her. I have been buffeted by fear. I have been surrounded by it like a sandstorm in the desert, it clouds my vision, overwhelms my hearing, occludes my sense of touch and overwhelms my sense of smell. Everything is sand.
This storm will blow past me, I am hunkered down small and I am moving through it.
- "I must not fear.
- Fear is the mind-killer.
- Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
- I will face my fear.
- I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
- And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
- Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
- Only I will remain."
I don't know if you hold with using litanies from fiction. My take on it is that I will use what works. I have, over the years, worked for a long time on learning how to focus my will, and now that I am aware of the fear and I have named it, I can control it enough to let it pass... over me and through me.
She is giving me an opportunity to control it. It's been over 24 hours since we've spoken. Doubts rise to the surface, and are negated. They come more slowly now.
I remember the very first time she and I got together. It was wonderful. Then she disappeared. After months, I decided it was the crappiest way to end a relationship I'd ever heard of.
Me-that-was found out later her siblings were in the hospital dying. She was with them. Me-that-was never felt like a worse human being. And this me-that-is, is determined not to make his mistakes.
She could disappear for months. I don't care, she's the best thing that's ever happened to the me-that-is or the me-that-was, and I'm waiting. She told me she wasn't leaving, and, I think I like trusting her to not have lied to me.
It makes life simpler. She'll come back. She always comes back. I am happy - Missing her like mad, can't stop thinking about her so much that I sat and waited for a stop sign to turn green (doh!) but she is mine.
If you think I'm a fool for this, take apart the username. I might be tilting at windmills, but I'm by god living life. Maybe something happened she has to take care of. Maybe she needs more sleep for work (I know I do!). Maybe she's giving me time in a way that forces me to face my fear. But, here's to a day of no Jen, and, knowing I havn't lost her.
Faith is just one step beyond hope. Sometimes you have to take it. |
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| Dreams |
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| 02:01pm 10/04/2007 |
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mood:  giddy music: Trance.
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Static, and white noise, and that sixty hertz hum from an old power line. A square of the static dims, like I'm getting part of a signal, like I'm looking through a thousand channels all at once, and I'm looking at a photograph on a screen,

A photo-montage unfolds slowly, image over image, some of them are bleeding through the others, the stronger one leaving indelible lines and edges over the others. It's a story, sad story of hurt people trying to understand. It's a tragedy, an inevitable conclusion, it's bygone and done. But still, her I loved more then any other - the years since have taught me that clearly now.
Then everything is static again, and then it blips as the sync over another signal takes over this world, and I'm high, above this white house with a gravel circle drive, surrounded by a field. I've never gotten close enough to find out what the field is - it's grain, or wheat, and it's always ripe. I know this house from so many other dreams, I know whose it is, and I've never gotten there. It's a big, comfortable old Victorian house, and it's where she lives. She comes out the front door and gets into a van. The sound of its engine is the most distant noise.
The picture rolls as the signal fades back into the background hum of a thousand others. Add enough voices and you have a sound like an ocean, add enough more and you have white noise. Do the same with a video, and you have static on the screen. Then the world switches, and I'm sitting in front of an old laptop, looking at her picture. But I've got something I'm supposed to do, and I've been backed into a corner with no place to go but through, and I can't find the hidden door. I close the laptop, and pack it away. You can't come with me where I have to go.
It's cold outside and it's raining, and I'm wearing another old fedora. I'm dressed in my Sunday best, and I've got a job to do. The world is grainy when I get where I'm going. It's an old grey bar, with only one red neon sign left working right. The people are old and tired. I take my place behind the bar. I'm not sure why it's my place, but there's a tired old woman who can't do it anymore. She's grateful, in a fashion. I try to teach her what she needs to learn, but she stops up her ears. I try to show her, but she's always looking somewhere else. I try to show her the door but she's too comfortable to do what she has to do.
She smiles as I walk away, and it's a sad smile that says it always ends this way. I had to give her the opportunity to be something. It was a job I had to do, I don't understand the why or wherefore, it was just my path to walk. And now I'm walking out the back door.
The world is tired, and it's grainy and grey, there's dirt in the rain and between my teeth. And, I'm going somewhere with no purpose or destination. I've done what I had to do, but at what cost? But, it's what I had to do, and I chose long ago to be a man who does what needs doing, and let it not matter if I like the task at hand.
After a long time, a line goes down the screen. I know this line, it's the line between now and what needs to be. There's something, again, I need to do, but what is it?
I walk into a door, into a new place, and I open up a laptop. It blips. It's not a picture, it's a live video feed. You look surprised, and then you smile. You blush and look at your hands. I realize that the laptop has a camera, built in of all places the lower left hand corner. You can see me too.
We talk. The feed ends, you go, but I leave the laptop open.
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I woke up from the dream, and I knew I had to speak with you. I had to know for me, how you were, were you alive and OK? I guess I can't say I didn't dream you'd smile, but I didn't really think you would. I always was afraid you would hate me for how I walked away. There are quiet, private pains that we never tell anyone. Did you know I once almost had a daughter? That pain is worn, now, and familiar. It's from a long, long time ago now. And, for the most part, nobody knows but me.
Here's one side of my life for the past years. I'll make another entry (It'll be huge) of my correspondence with others over this time-period. It will make a conclusive whole.
shadowsun and shadowmoon, the sky has been empty for too long. I guess that sums it up. I never knew how deeply I was missing you. |
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| Breaking |
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| 03:56am 28/02/2007 |
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You're breaking and I don't know what to do, All I can remember is to stand so strong and silent You crack and all there is is debt that I accrue. You're wasting, all i do is sit - observing this event.
You're the one I'd want to help if help I could, The one I'd sell a soul to steal the day for; I can't say that I made the choice quite right, or did just as I should The months, the years, I should have given up and gone to you.
You know the one you'll always love, the face you can't forget When everything is dust and dusty memory; Pearls click down a wire like the blood upon the blade, I know the feeling now, it twists inside and calls me to regret And I, I will not listen as you crackle and you break, I, I could not come; then another took my place So stop and dream a dream my friend, a dream of harmony...
For now it's not my place, as you crackle and you break. |
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| Wanted to.... |
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| 01:27am 15/02/2007 |
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Do you know what it's like to forget a hundered things you used to know without thought, and struggled to recover them? I have. And too many hours of work and study later, I can toss out the first thing I call poetry instead of prose in a few too many years.
I remembered the secret to it.
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Wished I could touch you once more, Instead of just letting you go. I laid enough, licking my wounds; Time that leaving's in vogue - Still hearing strains of that saddest tune.
It's cold; it's quiet; It's silent in march, Time for moving, and smiling hearts Are never burdened over too much. |
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| Where we've been |
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| 04:18am 15/11/2006 |
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mood:  pensive music: My own voice
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It's where we've been, When we're starin at the ceiling. It all your faces Marching by behind my eyes.
It's all I've ever known When the pain fades from my mind. It's what I've always seen, The lies the come behind. Where you're going Is where I've always been. It won't be a meeting, I've moved on, I moved along.
It's where I've gone, Like layers in an onion Faded away from your sight. Do you believe that I'm gone That I've moved on and forgotten, I was just the shadow you could never believe.
I'm still here and I'm watchin, Bittersweet at lettin you go on. You've finally found a way For yourself to be happy. It's a bittersweet shadow; fades away.
And it's all of what I thought I saw, Anger in your quiet eyes, Blue fades to summer sky and sun.
I watched the sunrise yesterday, Poignant, it represents loss to me And I dunno where I'm going to tomorrow I'm tired of this alone, more tired Of all the betrayin.
It's quiet here alone, the tree branches rustle. Doubt I'll find someone to follow my own pace. It's chess by the fire in the rain, I a hundred and ten, down broken asphalt way It's me and mine still alive, and mine don't speak to me, It's the fragments of insanity That keep me bein me,
Doubt I'll ever find another soul who completely understands and leans towards me. |
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| Singularity |
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| 04:44pm 15/08/2006 |
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So I'm writing to you from the other side of a singularity.
But for you to understand, let me give you a definition from "Mathematics - A point at which the derivative does not exist for a given function but every neighborhood of which contains points for which the derivative exists. Also called singular point." Put in plain english, a point on a line (For us, we're using time) after which nothing can be predicted. It est, a thing which occurs that could not be predicted, thereafter causing all that comes next to be something which could not be predicted from a pre-singularity viewpoint.
So what this means is that I have passed a point that could not, or that I could not, foresee. As a result, all that comes after is post singularity. Something that, by its nature, I could not predict, could not understand until after it occured.
I strongly suspect the world is creeping up, fearingly, on another singularity. Our trade, our money, our lives is becoming increasingly virtualized. Our games, friends and social lives can exist very much online, and this is widely, in many ways, accepted. We fall in love, we hate and fight, in a virtual medium whose physical state is so small we'd need a very good microscope to even look at it.
I work with this, live with this, and my knowledge of it makes me a very tidy some every payday. I'm not complaining. I'm just curious; we've used the same media and the same techniques for decades now, and it's about time for that next scientific breakthrough that is going to turn everything on it's ear. At the speed we're progressing forward now in technology, something will give; we are an entire industry of people who ride the ragged edge of information burnout.
So; what comes next? Will they finally create a successfully usable neural linkage that everyone can use? http://www.nature.com/nature/focus/brain/index.html -- This isn't something that has been completely forgotten. |
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Read 1 - Post |
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| Ghost of a shadow of the moon's sword |
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| 05:17am 18/07/2006 |
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mood:  Silent music: Ghost in the Shell
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Sometimes lost in the silence that's past Hearing the whispers of my private demons It's like cutting your dreams with a jagged old blade It's finding out you're who you always hated
And black pearls slide down that silken line, Whisper of old nails on taut guitar wire It's a prelude to a heavy-metal dirge. Do I know you shadowed and bloody, wondering why...
It's echoes and angels and tired old drapes; Stood in the house that they lived their lives in Packed to a home to be mothered and bothered And strapped to a bed till they died...
It's the dust in your nose as you walk in the room The spiderweb age that hangs from the oxygen lines, It's knowing your dying and walking away, For you know that we all suffer and die all alone. |
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| Falling |
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| 03:51am 03/07/2006 |
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Boredom does not suspend my state of disbelief, listening to lies whispered on the wire. Too small but large enoug to do damage.
I'm sitting here in a black mood, Feeling quiet succeeding exhaustion Step by step it's a slow dance closer I'm merging with my destination.
And then it's moving on and forward, Claw my way up this ladder. I'm watching friends get fired, Cause they just can't hold this job, and
There's not one i'm protecting, There's not one that I'm saving, They made their choices with this And it's not like they're dying.
Should I protect them from Consequences of Breaking all these little rules? It's a black mood that I'm in.
And I'm just sitting here and smokin, Wonderin how you're doing cause even though You're my friend I won't see you here again.
Soft words and quiet smiles, You knew the price for your mistakes And went to make them anyway And I watch, as you all fall away...
I'm clawin my way up, my friends are gettin fired One by one I watch them fall, and I know I won't lift a hand to save them, They chose to make their own mistakes.
I'm watching with a quiet smile, as one after one topples, and I was so close to that fate, but for one mistake. And there's that vast gulf between only happening once, and happening once a week. You got what you've earned, and I'm the lucky one - and I'm watching, and I'm smiling, and you don't know what you've all done to yourselves.
I cannot imagine sitting in front of a phone that is ringing - and it's MY JOB to answer it - and letting it ring until it goes quiet.
I would quit long before I hit that point.
Chains of fate bind me, I cannot be ought but the creature that I am. You all have such laxness in who you are and what you do. And me? I'm hell bent on something that cannot be; but impossibility cannot make me surrender my dream.
Step by step I'll build the fucking platform, and when the time comes I'll be ready. Even if that time never comes, I'll still be ready. Because hope has nothing to do with reality. |
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| The silent void full of voices is singing. |
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| 05:01pm 01/05/2006 |
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mood:  Indisposed to fail music: Alien Ant Farm
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I feel like death warmed over, But I'm not quite ready to die. It's simple, intent drives me To heighs I did not think possible.
It's all the same to you, you're not lookin through my eyes It's all the same for you, You're not quite livin in my shoes.
Where will I go when this is done? I don't know what's around this bend, The fates hide their eyes from me I laugh and I dance and I walk forward.
It's surely not the same for you, You're not looking through my eyes I'm sure you're happy where you are, You can't feel my feet on your legs.
I'm laughing and striding forward, The pain does not slow me any more. I don't care if bones begin to grind, I've walked through that door before.
It's not the same as what you see, It's not the same as what you live, I don't care where you are at Because you cannot see where I am.
And it's day, yeah, it's day-by-day now, I'm laughing at the challenge before me, Not insanity that prompts me to this But I will imply my intent to this wall! |
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| Slow Grain |
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| 04:59pm 25/04/2006 |
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She was young, with blue eyes and hair that couldn't decide what color it was going to be. I kept her in my sphere of influence, I kept her safe, as they razed houses hunting me - destroying everywhere I'd been. I was always a half-skip ahead, never quite close enough to die; and around me men and women and children I knew were slowly destroyed.
I kept her alive.
I woke up.
And I realized, these are pictures of my life. I watch those I know being slowly subsumed by whatever poison they chose - drugs, sex, whatever - slowly wrapped up and killed. There was a man in the smoking area outside the other day; he was crazy as fuck, hopped up on more then one thing.
That evening, I heard about a man dead on the side of the road - got his head, quite literally knocked off. I'll probably never know for certain, but the void in the back of my mind says it was him. Same description from the neck down anyway - not having a head makes it difficult to describe the face. Heh.
And I didn't care. I worked, I lived, I kept me and mine safe, and people around me died.
This is my life. It's on the up-swing from the gritty, grainy realism of the ghetto, and step-and-dance I take my way higher, but the scent of blood will never leave me.
And my hands will never be clean, but I don't care if they're white or black with dried blood. I kept me and mine safe and alive.
And that's the choice I made. I will live - and I'm not done yet, motherfuckers. |
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| Words |
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| 12:56am 14/03/2006 |
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I look in to your eyes, And say ladies first my friend - But I know you are no lady, just another fucking whore.
It's all in the games I play, It's all in the words I say, It's the lies that verify Your sickened sense of self worth.
It's dead souls like blackened pearls Strung along a fine silver wire It's the hollow echo in your words That tells me they're not true.
You're so fucking empty, Like the rest of this damn world I stare into your eyes and smile And wonder why the fuck I bother.
You ask me all these questions, And ponder at my answers You just can't understand my definitions It's all about who has the power.
It's dead souls like blackened pearls Strung along a fine silver wire It's the hollow echo in your words That tells me they're not true.
It's what I've known I'd never be That's starin back from your mirror And the hatred breathes deep in my soul, Should I set you free from life tonight? |
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| Too much caffine, too little sleep |
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| 02:27am 05/03/2006 |
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The headache finally fades, late at night after too little sleep and too much caffine, inundated by the florescent light and highlighted from the glow of a CRT.
Call after call slips by, and I know I am as smooth as ice, slipping from persona to persona to best match the mood of caller after caller. Finding and fixing problem after problem, computer after computer.
Their machines speak to me in whispers and in hums, in the back of my mind, screaming what is wrong to those who will never learn to hear.
I can feel everything beginning to click, and it's like, ah-hah... I remember this magic from long ago. Only now... Now its so much more then it ever was before.
Tick, tock, tick, as call after call slips by, smooth as a frozen ocean, and a smile in my voice that doesn't really reach my lips.
Illusion is a magic all its own. |
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Read 3 - Post |
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| Dreams. |
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| 02:09am 22/01/2006 |
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It changes every dream, in that half-state that's not really dreaming. This time her name was Akhiba. She was petite, quiet and gentle and harsh as steel. It was another replay of our regrets, in pantomime dream colors that bled and ran, and we skirted death without caring. She was for that moment, my world again, and I ached.
And all my regrets come bubbling to the surface, where I can let them melt away in the mornings sunlight, and I'm a little bit more pure, and I let go of a little bit more of my past. I learn something new every day, refine my knowledge, like a whetstone rasping across steel. I know I'll never be purely content. I'll never know enough... Or be enough.
It's the quiet, understated compliments that leak through inside.. and blossom, and I realize, wow, that person really meant that as a compliment.. and I wish I could thank them now.
Akhiba... Is there a real you in this world, in any world... would it matter if there was? It's possible to lose your best friend in this day and age, and never be able to track them down again. And in a quiet, dark world of sex and steel and asphalt leaking by too fast to note, you'll always be my special soul. I wish I could live in that world, in that state... because for all that it was full of death, the moments with you overwhelmed it all.
Life can never be a dream... But I can dream at night. And, Akhiba, or whatever your name is tonight... I know the face you hide, and I don't really care. Even if you can never accept it. I don't care.
Akhiba, my special soul...
Purple and blue overlapped somewhere by accident, and I'll not want to be free. |
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