Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Grey Prayer

Imagine a group of people. Easy. Imagine music, any kind. Simple. Imagine one girl, thick glasses frizzy hair. Got it? Imagine her, trying to keep up with the conversations, to smile and nod at the right times. Still pretty easy, right? I mean, you can see the slight tension in her brow, maybe the biting of her too-full lips. Look deeper. Wait several moments, even. Wait until the realization sets in that no one really sees her no matter what she does. What does she think, feel?

Grey.

Maybe she'll go home later, sit on the floor, look out the window. What will she see?
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Grey

Slim wraiths of sorrow
wrap your dark arms about me

Let the calm chill of shadow
take over the harsh
Burning
Light

I call for salvation
A reprisal from life

Longing for the sweet
Seduction of nothingness

Know that I wait,
Head high and palms open

Know that I watch
Heart full and lips smiling

...and do not mourn,
never that.

For among the bitterness of life,
I could never find hope

Among the sterile sunbeams,
I could never find joy

And deep within darkness...
its tender embrace...

No white
No black

No lies,

Only Grey.

Monday, August 30, 2010

How to Time Travel

C'mon, you know you want to try this:

You want to fix an embarrassing moment in the past? You want to stop a major event in world history? You can bend time and space? Then you're going to want to build a time machine. Recent advancements in physics show that time travel is theoretically possible. All you need is a Yugo (NOT a DeLorean).

Instructions



Difficulty: Challenging

Things You'll Need

    Worm hole generator
    Anti-gravity engine

    Steps

    Step One

    Find yourself a black hole. The basic design of your time machine will have to deal with the incredible pressure of traveling through a black hole—the best way to travel through time. Any old black hole will not do, however. The black hole needs to be connected to a white hole—together called a worm hole. If you find a pure black hole, you'll be sucked into infinity with no way out. Not recommended.

    Step Two

    A worm hole can have incredible pressure—many times that of the sun, so take this into account when building your time machine. Come to think of it, a DeLorean probably isn't the best vehicle to withstand this pressure. Try a Yugo.

    Step Three

    In a worm hole, both gravity and space are warped. Most importantly, wormholes connect two disparate locations—in both time and space. To build a time machine, you need to be able to create wormholes and choose a destination. There is also the possibility that worm holes exist naturally—they have been proven mathematically but never seen.

    Step Four

    OK, here's where it gets tricky (after you've tracked down a Yugo), one side of the worm hole should be placed by a neutron star—the gravity will slow down time on one end of the worm hole. This way, when the time traveler enters the end of the worm hole at the star, and comes back again, time will not have passed—even if he traveled 20 years into the future within the worm hole. Make sense?

    Step Five

    Next, don't kill your parents. If you go back in time and murder your parents as children, will you continue to exist? Still up for debate.


Sunday, August 29, 2010

Words










"Glory remains unaware of my neglected dwelling where alone, I sing my tearful song which has charms only for me."

-Charles Brugnot



Saturday, August 28, 2010

Pearls before Swine

"Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you."
~Matthew 7:6

I'm a passionate person. I don't merely hate; I despise. I don't just like; I adore. I don't only love; I cherish. When I give, I give it all. It's a character flaw, I've discovered over the years. Feeling too much only gets you in trouble, and loving too much only breeds resentment. Especially when the person you bestow your heart unto is ill-equipped to hold it, much less understand the import of the gift you've so willingly given up.

I shouldn't have been so willing. I found someone I adored, cherished, and gave everything to; unconditionally. They, who always had everything they ever wanted or needed from friends and family...took. And they kept on taking. I kept giving, more and more, a slice of tolerance here, a chunk of forgiveness there...everything my emaciated little heart could muster.
Give
Give
Give...

I looked into the mirror years later and saw a shell of what I'd been. That person has stripped me bare, and I let them. I didn't sing anymore, hadn't written anything in years; what's worse, I turned my back on my friends. All for him.

He tore me apart.

Only now can I see my mistake, in giving too much too soon, and expecting that I would be treated in kind. I only saw my own love when I looked in the mirror then, and made excuses for him constantly. "Well, he was tired that day; I shouldn't have expected him to call me when he said he would...Well, it's my fault he swears at me and calls me a bitch, I shouldn't have questioned him."

Walking on broken glass, to the last. To my great pain I saw that it didn't really matter to him if he saw me on a given day for 20 minutes or 3 hours. He didn't feel the sorrow I did at the lack of his company, nor did he mind when we didn't speak for days on end. The joy I felt in his presence was batted away like a ball of yarn. Everything that happened between us was "If you wish", "Whatever you want", and "As you say." He never really wanted anything of me anymore. But yes; he would always keep...taking.

How long can a broken heart beat? How much can a spent soul give?
Until the blood runs out. Until the soul is twisted irreparably out of shape.

Until a body, taxed at the end of her being, accepts it as the grand joke that it is.
A mistake of colossal proportions.



I woke up and called this morning,
the tone of your voice was a warning
that you don't care for me anymore.

I made up the bed we sleep in.
I looked at the clock when you creep in.
It's 6 AM and I'm alone.

Did you know when you go it's the perfect ending,
to the bad day I was just beginning.
When you go, all I know is you're my favorite mistake.

Your friends act sorry for me.
They watch you pretend to adore me.
But I am no fool to this game.

Now here comes your secret lover,
she'll be unlike any other,
until your guilt goes up in flames.

Did you know when you go it's the perfect ending,
to the bad day I'd gotten used to spending.
When you go, all I know is you're my favorite mistake
You're my favorite mistake.

Well maybe nothing lasts forever,
even when you stay together.
I don't need forever after, but it's your laughter won't let me go
so I'm holding on this way.

Did you know could you tell you were the only one
that I ever loved?
Now everything's so wrong.
Did you see me walking by, did it ever make you cry?
Now you're my favorite mistake
Yeah you're my favorite mistake
You're my favorite mistake

Friday, August 27, 2010

Stranger

Photobucket

Speak of the times you were there
And I wasn't.

Look upon me as a stranger
I am.

Believing the unspoken

Hoping the implausible

Waiting on the nonexistent

I watched for a sign
Until my eyes bled. . .

. . . and saw nothing.

For your truth
Was not mine

Your fealty was in body,
Not soul

And mine was in soul,
But not deed.

There was a dream I once had
Before you taught me to cry

I dont need to tell you
The details

I dont think I could remember them...

Anyway,

I let it go
Sometime last night

A broken smile
A dead whisper

Either way

You never saw it
You never heard it

It doesnt matter

Youve made your judgement
Youve made the choice.

And I remain unsurprised

Because you sought out another
Far before I.

I speak of the times that I was there
And you werent

I look upon you as a stranger;

You are.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Standing.


"Have you ever felt despair? Absolute hopelessness? Have you ever stood in the darkness and known, deep in your heart, in your spirit, that it was never, ever going to get better? That something had been lost, forever, and that it wasn't coming back?"


-Harry Dresden, Book One of the Dresden Files

You can stand to reason; you can stand firm, you can even stand alone…but I – I can do none of those things. There’s a kind of empty solace in my existence; a kind of blank peacefulness that comes about when a body is simply too tired to pick up its load and carry on. Once a dreamer, I am plagued by nightmares. Once a fighter, I find my knees both broken and I am on the floor unable to rise. What happened to me, you may ask. I can give you no answer. I don’t even have any questions.

Leave me alone.
Leave me alone, all of you.
I let this happen to myself. Oh, I cared at first. Hurried through my days, struggling to keep in line with the others at school, at church, at work…I did it all. The 4.0 perfect student (Member of every school club but yearbook. Couldn’t bear to chase after the pseudoyuppies of high school in hopes of a good shot.) An upstanding member of the congregation. Sang my damn lungs out in church and stood on street corners for hours preaching. (I do think that scarred me for life) I was a real comer at work, always pushing for that promotion, that golden banana of the monkeylike workforce they call ‘retail staff’. Were those things supposed to change me? Enlighten me unto the meaning of life? Because none, I repeat, NONE of them did any of those things.
Nonetheless, I fought like a demon to live, to love - to exist alongside the denizens of my world. Every day the sunrise was a little darker, every night lasted a little bit longer. I never saw it, never felt the changes tugging at the outskirts of my mind. I only knew I had to work harder, faster, keep pushing for the ultimate goal of humanity - to cripple myself into becoming like everyone else. Then call myself successful for it. In that I would find my salvation…wouldn’t I?
How I longed to be ‘normal’. I chose television over imagination, and rejoiced in the bright voices of the shining ones within. And then one voice became distinct, wrapping itself insidiously amongst my thoughts, peeling back the layers of my heart to seethe within like some malevolent serpent. “Thinner!” it said. Like the book, like the movie, like the women, like my dreams. I obeyed. Oh, how I obeyed. Pounds sloughed off even as my worries did, dreams were replaced by cobwebs; thoughts slipping away like rain. I mistook despondency for freedom, and the coldness of my body soon spread to my soul…
It’s a long story, how I got there and back again. It doesn’t bear repeating. Suffice it to say that I am still here; both more and less than I can say for some. I will say that I have love to thank for that, tainted as it was by guilt. It warmed my soul as nothing else could, and lifted me to heights I’d never known before. In it I found sanctuary from my dark memories; a haven from all my fears. But love fled, as it is wont to do; leaving me maimed and lost. At last, I was crippled as I’d ached to be so long ago. After all that I’d been through, all I’d done…it was love that broke me in the end. I remained on my knees where it had flung me and laughed.
This is not a written work of beauty and wit, meant to astound and enlighten the populace of my insight. This is a rather erratically contrived electronic journal, where grammar is given the proverbial finger and thoughts run amok. For that I am grateful, for no one who reads this will ever know me or should ever want to. And that’s fine by me.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Without You

Life doesn't wait for anyone.




Without You - Rent OST

Without you, the ground thaws
the rain falls
the grass grows

Without you, the seeds root
the flowers bloom
the children play

The stars gleam
the poets dream
the eagles fly
without you

The Earth turns
the sun burns
but I die, without you

Without you, the breeze warms
the girl smiles
the cloud moves

Without you, the tides change
the boys run
the oceans crash

The crowds roar
the days soar
the babies cry
without you

The moon glows
the river flows
but I die without you

The world revives
colors renew
but I know blue
only blue
lonely blue
willingly blue
Without you

Without you, the hand gropes
the ear hears
the pulse beats

Without you, the eyes gaze
the legs walk
the lungs breathe

The mind churns
the heart yearns
the tears dry without you

Life goes on
but I'm gone
'cause I die, without you
without you
without you
without you.....

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

A very Grimm Tale

I'm not sure why, but this story seems to have stuck in my head, maybe the odd refrain of a suffering child does it, maybe the selfishness of a cruel mother..or maybe because what this story is really about is the power of truth. That even a child can wield it like a great sword. Regardless, like so many disturbing yet formative things from my childhood, it is a part of me. I am not sure if I'd be the same person without these..disturbing thoughts in my mind.

The Almond Tree
By The brothers Grim

layouts myspace long time ago, perhaps as much as two thousand years, there was a rich man, and he had a beautiful and pious wife, and they loved each other very much, and they had no children, though they wished greatly for some, and the wife prayed for one day and night.

Now, in the courtyard in front of their house stood an almond tree; and one day in winter the wife was standing beneath it, and paring an apple, and as she pared it she cut her finger, and the blood fell upon the snow. "Ah," said the woman, sighing deeply, and looking down at the blood, "if only I could have a child as red as blood, and as white as snow!" And as she said these words, her heart suddenly grew light, and she felt sure she should have her wish. So she went back to the house, and when a month had passed the snow was gone; in two months everything was green; in three months the flowers sprang out of the earth; in four months the trees were in full leaf, and the branches were thickly entwined; the little birds began to sing, so that the woods echoed, and the blossoms fell from the trees; when the fifth month had passed the wife stood under the almond tree, and it smelt so sweet that her heart leaped within her, and she fell on her knees for joy; and when the sixth month had gone, the fruit was thick and fine, and she remained still; and the seventh month she gathered the almonds, and ate them eagerly, and was sick and sorrowful; and when the eighth month had passed she called to her husband, and said, weeping, "If I die, bury me under the almond tree." Then she was comforted and happy until the ninth month had passed, and then she bore a child as white as snow and as red as blood, and when she saw it her joy was so great that she died.


Her husband buried her under the almond tree, and he wept sore; time passed, and he became less sad; and after he had grieved a little more he left off, and then he took another wife.

His second wife bore him a daughter, and his first wife's child was a son, as red as blood and as white as snow. Whenever the wife looked at her daughter she felt great love for her, but whenever she looked at the little boy, evil thoughts came into her heart, of how she could get all her husband's money for her daughter, and how the boy stood in the way; and so she took great hatred to him, and drove him from one corner to another, and gave him a buffet here and a cuff there, so that the poor child was always in disgrace; when he came back after school hours there was no peace for him. Once, when the wife went into the room upstairs, her little daughter followed her, and said, "Mother, give me an apple." "Yes, my child," said the mother, and gave her a fine apple out of the chest, and the chest had a great heavy lid with a strong iron lock. "Mother," said the little girl, "shall not my brother have one too?" That was what the mother expected, and she said, "Yes, when he comes back from school." And when she saw from the window that he was coming, an evil thought crossed her mind, and she snatched the apple, and took it from her little daughter, saying, "You shall not have it before your brother." Then she threw the apple into the chest, and shut to the lid. Then the little boy came in at the door, and she said to him in a kind tone, but with evil looks, "My son, will you have an apple?" "Mother," said the boy, "how terrible you look! yes, give me an apple!" Then she spoke as kindly as before, holding up the cover of the chest, "Come here and take out one for yourself." And as the boy was stooping over the open chest, crash went the lid down, so that his head flew off among the red apples. But then the woman felt great terror, and wondered how she could escape the blame. And she went to the chest of drawers in her bedroom and took a white handkerchief out of the nearest drawer, and fitting the head to the neck, she bound them with the handkerchief, so that nothing should be seen, and set him on a chair before the door with the apple in his hand.

Then came little Marjory into the kitchen to her mother, who was standing before the fire stirring a pot of hot water. "Mother," said Marjory, "my brother is sitting before the door and he has an apple in his hand, and looks very pale; I asked him to give me the apple, but he did not answer me; it seems very strange." "Go again to him," said the mother, "and if he will not answer you, give him a box on the ear." So Marjory went again and said, "Brother, give me the apple." But as he took no notice, she gave him a box on the ear, and his head fell off, at which she was greatly terrified, and began to cry and scream, and ran to her mother, and said, "O mother.1 I have knocked my brother's head off!" and cried and screamed, and would not cease. "O Marjory!" said her mother, "what have you done? but keep quiet, that no one may see there is anything the matter; it can't be helped now; we will put him out of the way safely."

When the father came home and sat down to table, he said, "Where is my son?" But the mother was filling a great dish full of black broth, and Marjory was crying bitterly, for she could not refrain. Then the father said again, "Where is my son?" "Oh," said the mother, "he is gone into the country to his great-uncle's to stay for a little while." "What should he go for?" said the father, "and without bidding me good-bye, too!" "Oh, he wanted to go so much, and he asked me to let him stay there six weeks; he will be well taken care of." "Dear me," said the father, "I am quite sad about it; it was not right of him to go without bidding me good-bye." With that he began to eat, saying, "Marjory, what are you crying for? Your brother will come back some time." After a while he said, "Well, wife, the food is very good; give me some more." And the more he ate the more he wanted, until he had eaten it all up, and be threw the bones under the table. Then Marjory went to her chest of drawers, and took one of her best handkerchiefs from the bottom drawer, and picked up all the bones from under the table and tied them up in her handkerchief, and went out at the door crying bitterly. She laid them in the green grass under the almond tree, and immediately her heart grew light again, and she wept no more. Then the almond tree began to wave to and fro, and the boughs drew together and then parted, just like a clapping of hands for joy; then a cloud rose from the tree, and in the midst of the cloud there burned a fire, and out of the fire a beautiful bird arose, and, singing most sweetly, soared high into the air; and when he had flown away, the almond tree remained as it was before, but the handkerchief full of bones was gone. Marjory felt quite glad and light-hearted, just as if her brother were still alive. So she went back merrily into the house and had her dinner. The bird, when it flew away, perched on the roof of a goldsmith's house, and began to sing,

''It was my mother who murdered me;
It was my father who ate of me;
It was my sister Marjory
Who all my bones in pieces found;
hem in a handkerchief she bound,
And laid them under the almond tree.
Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,
Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

The goldsmith was sitting in his shop making a golden chain, and when he heard the bird, who was sitting on his roof and singing, he started up to go and look, and as he passed over his threshold he lost one of his slippers; and he went into the middle of the street with a slipper on one foot and-only a sock on the other; with his apron on, and the gold chain in one hand and the pincers in the other; and so he stood in the sunshine looking up at the bird. "Bird," said he, "how beautifully you sing; do sing that piece over again." "No," said the bird, "I do not sing for nothing twice; if you will give me that gold chain I will sing again." "Very well," said the goldsmith, "here is the gold chain; now do as you said." Down came the bird and took the gold chain in his right claw, perched in front of the goldsmith, and sang,

"It was my mother who murdered me;
It was my father who ate of me;
It was my sister Marjory
Who all my bones in pieces found;
Them in a handkerchief she bound,
And laid them under the almond tree.
Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,
Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

Then the bird flew to a shoemaker's, and perched on his roof, and sang,

"It was my mother who murdered me;
It was my father who ate of me;
It was my sister Marjory
Who all my bones in pieces found;
Them in a handkerchief she bound,
And laid them under the almond tree.
Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,
Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

When the shoemaker heard, he ran out of his door in his shirt sleeves and looked up at the roof of his house, holding his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. "Bird," said he, "how beautifully you sing!" Then he called in at his door, "Wife, come out directly; here is a bird singing beautifully; only listen." Then he called his daughter, all his children, and acquaintance, both young men and maidens, and they came up the street and gazed on the bird, and saw how beautiful it was with red and green feathers, and round its throat was as it were gold, and its eyes twinkled in its head like stars. "Bird," said the shoemaker, "do sing that piece over again." "No," said the bird, "I may not sing for nothing twice; you must give me something." "Wife," said the man, "go into the shop; on the top shelf stands a pair of red shoes; bring them here." So the wife went and brought the shoes. "Now bird," said the man, "sing us that piece again." And the bird came down and took the shoes in his left claw, and flew up again to the roof, and sang,

"It was my mother who murdered me;
It was my father who ate of me;
It was my sister Marjory
Who all my bones in pieces found;
hem in a handkerchief she bound,
And laid them under the almond tree.
Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,
Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

And when he had finished he flew away, with the chain in his right claw and the shoes in his left claw, and he flew till he reached a mill, and the mill went "clip-clap, clip-clap, clip-clap." And in the mill sat twenty millers-men hewing a millstone— "hick-hack, hick-hack, hick-hack," while the mill was going "clip-clap, clip-clap, clip-clap." And the bird perched on a linden tree that stood in front of the mill, and sang, "It was my mother who murdered me; " Here one of the men looked up. "It was my father who ate of me;" Then two more looked up and listened. "It was my sister Marjory " Here four more looked up. "Who all my bones in pieces found; Them in a handkerchief she bound," Now there were only eight left hewing. "And laid them under the almond tree." Now only five. "Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry," Now only one. "Oh what a beautiful bird am I!" At length the last one left off, and he only heard the end. "Bird," said he, "how beautifully you sing; let me hear it all; sing that again!" "No," said the bird, "I may not sing it twice for nothing; if you will give me the millstone I will sing it again." "Indeed," said the man, "if it belonged to me alone you should have it." "All right," said the others, "if he sings again he shall have it." Then the bird came down, and all the twenty millers heaved up the stone with poles - "yo! heave-ho! yo! heave-ho!" and the bird stuck his head through the hole in the middle, and with the millstone round his neck he flew up to the tree and sang,

"It was my mother who murdered me;
It was my father who ate of me;
It was my sister Marjory
Who all my bones in pieces found;
Them in a handkerchief she bound,
And laid them under the almond tree.
Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,
Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

And when he had finished, he spread his wings,, having in the right claw the chain, and in the left claw the shoes, and round his neck the millstone, and he flew away to his father's house.

In the parlour sat the father, the mother, and Marjory at the table; the father said, "How light-hearted and cheerful I feel." "Nay," said the mother, "I feel very low, just as if a great storm were coming." But Marjory sat weeping; and the bird came flying, and perched on the roof "Oh," said the father, "I feel so joyful, and the sun is shining so bright; it is as if I were going to meet with an old friend." "Nay," said the wife, "I am terrified, my teeth chatter, and there is fire in my veins," and she tore open her dress to get air; and Marjory sat in a corner and wept, with her plate before her, until it was quite full of tears. Then the bird perched on the almond tree, and sang, '' It was my mother who murdered me; " And the mother stopped her ears and hid her eyes, and would neither see nor hear; nevertheless, the noise of a fearful storm was in her ears, and in her eyes a quivering and burning as of lightning. "It was my father who ate of me;'' "O mother!" said the-father, "there is a beautiful bird singing so finely, and the sun shines, and everything smells as sweet as cinnamon. ''It was my sister Marjory " Marjory hid her face in her lap and wept, and the father said, "I must go out to see the bird." "Oh do not go!" said the wife, "I feel as if the house were on fire." But the man went out and looked at the bird. "Who all my bones in pieces found; Them in a handkerchief she bound, And laid them under the almond tree. Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry, Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

With that the bird let fall the gold chain upon his father's neck, and it fitted him exactly. So he went indoors and said, "Look what a beautiful chain the bird has given me." Then his wife was so terrified that she fell all along on the floor, and her cap came off. Then the bird began again to sing, "It was my mother who murdered me;" "Oh," groaned the mother, "that I were a thousand fathoms under ground, so as not to be obliged to hear it." "It was my father who ate of me;" Then the woman lay as if she were dead. "It was my sister Marjory " "Oh," said Marjory, "I will go out, too, and see if the bird will give me anything." And so she went. "Who all my bones in pieces found; Them in a handkerchief she bound," Then he threw the shoes down to her. "And laid them under the almond tree. Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry, Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

And poor Marjory all at once felt happy and joyful, and put on her red shoes, and danced and jumped for joy. "Oh dear," said she, "I felt so sad before I went outside, and now my heart is so light! He is a charming bird to have given me a pair of red shoes." But the mother's hair stood on end, and looked like flame, and she said, "Even if the world is coming to an end, I must go out for a little relief." Just as she came outside the door, crash went the millstone on her head, and crushed her flat. The father and daughter rushed out, and saw smoke and flames of fire rise up; but when that had gone by, there stood the little brother; and he took his father and Marjory by the hand, and they felt very happy and content, and went indoors, and sat to the table, and had their dinner.

FIN.




Monday, August 23, 2010

Who am I?

Who am I?
I don't really know. I have suffered, and known great pain. I also continually find greater pain to struggle through. But the past sufferings makes me know I can survive it. As a child, I thought that the pain of being a 'mistake', an unwanted baby was the worst way to feel. Yet as time goes by I realize that there are worse ways to feel. A child has no control over their lives; no way of choosing their parents. No way of evading being an outsider in later years when the other children are born...the wanted ones, I mean.

The worst way I have discovered (so far) is when those you choose to love and stand by don't want you. When they call you Damaged Goods, when they mock your past, when they laugh at your pain and Godforbid; beat you. These things hurt more than anything.

Does the pain just escalate in life? Do you just keep finding more things to hurt you as you gain awareness of the world around you? When you attain what you want does it slap you in the face?

Love breeds disappointment, faith does much the same, and hope? Even worse. So simple for a child to wish for a parent's approval. So easy for a teenager to dream of true love. These things can and do fail. What's next? To wish for a child, try your damndest to do right by them, and find out years later that they hated you?
Probably.

It's disconcerting, how easy life can let you down. And there's never anything you yourself can do to stop it.
Study, to acheive excellence in education. Then you fail to get a worthy job.
Sacrifice your sex drive to better your relationship. Then your partner cheats on you.
There's no way to win. Only more randomness. If life is so random, why even try? Why not just wait for the next shoe to fall, the next opportunity to come?

It's the cosmic joke.
Nothing that's worth fighting for is ever easy to keep.
Nothing that comes easy lasts.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

An Angel at Dover Beach

We live, we love, we learn...and yet it means nothing. The tide will always turn, the sun will always rise. We won't always live, nor love. With us everything has an ending. The sea is always. Pity that it is only the nonsentient that are given eternity.

I drew this some time ago, and no words of mine could do it better justice than those of the great Matthew Arnold. Is it an angel of God then, mourning the folly of humanity? Or is it a longdead lover, weeping for lost days of the past?

You decide. My art, a writer's words, and your heart.


Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Dover Beach

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; -on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.


[Matthew Arnold, 1867]

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Gamer Musings








I'd never expected to make virtual friends, to find a virtual family after Mirtanna Manor failed. However, early in 2004 I began to play City of Heroes, a new MMORPG, and blew that notion out of my head. Once again, I found connections with people of like minds, people that I could play and converse with. We leveled together, laughed together, shared our stories both fantastic and mundane...and unbreakable bonds were forged. Even though I stopped playing the game almost 2 years later, these friends are still in my life. I do not speak to them as often as I like; sometimes playing different games is like being on a different planet, but I know The Doom Supremacy is there for me always, just as I am for them. Because that's what being a guildie means to them. It's always saddened me a bit that so few of them enjoyed playing World of Warcraft as much as I did, for none of them stayed long after trying it out.

Maybe they saw something, or the lack of something that I didn't at first. For over a three years now I have been playing WoW. I've been in a few guilds, large and small. It's been very different, and I don't mean the gameplay alone. I remember so fondly in The Supremacy the pre-mission roleplay, the eagerness I had to log in and join my friends in their questings. I still giggle at some of the things that were said and done during these raids. Now all I feel is a sense of duty, a hope that the mission will be successful, that no one will become bored and feign 'connection issues' and leave, or simply fail to show up without warning. I remember groups built for the purpose of fun first, upgrades second, and guildies passing or handing over loot to someone that needed it more. Instead I look around wondering who will take the same loot that I need. Laughter, once shared freely in memory, is only doled out to the chosen few in privileged guild cliques that sneer at outsiders. Outsiders that are guildies in name only, as they appear on guild rosters. Not friends, certainly. These outsiders will only be teamed with if there is none of the chosen online. Hell, most of the cliques share instant messaging information and/or phone numbers. People are used as they are needed, not wanted...and even I have begun to forget what it's like to be friends with my teammates.

I've been told that it's the game, that progression is more important in WoW than in CoH/CoV. That City of Heroes & City of Villains has less important goals in gearing up. Maybe that's true, but only in part. I have been in many, many groups of nonguildies. I often found myself in random groups of good people that had the same sense of fun coupled with a desire to achieve their goals. I also found myself in some fairly ridiculous situations that I can only laugh about. Like the PuG (pick-up-group) I was in where the tank, (key to the success of an instance) spoke not a word of English and didn't know the winning tactics to the bosses. When the other team members attempted to advise him, he would only answer "Listen, I am weapon. I go."
Whee! Regardless, that group was a lotta fun, though we spent most of the instance on our faces.

Of course, there were some difficult groups as well, things that guild cliques snub the idea of PuGging for. Ninjas (teammates that loot EVERYTHING), AFKers (people that well, just go away from their computer and let the rest of the group do all the work), and Ebayers (players that have purchased their characters on Ebay and therefore can't PLAY). I've not run into these situations much, fortunately. These factors lead me to think that it's more than just the gameplay. It's the people. But how do you find an entire guild of people that 'fit' you? I wish I knew.

I don't want the game to be a job, something I do because I have goals to attain. I don't want to drag my feet most of the time I log in, knowing that in order to get anything done I have to do it alone, with strangers, or worse, people that tolerate and use me as oppose to liking and wanting me. I know I'm sounding all kinds of negative; there is a bright side to the game for me. There are some wonderful people I know and am friends with, though there are only a few left that still play as often as I. I don't tell them, but many's the time I've logged on hoping that they were there; just to say hello. It's a far cry from what I used to have, the fellowship I once shared with people of true character. Yet I'm still trying, still hoping for a time to come again when friends come first and loot after. After all, friends will always be worth more than pixels to me.


Friday, August 20, 2010

Lonely

I'm finding myself really getting lost again in an anime that I really enjoyed as a manga years ago, and discoving yet again that everything changes at a second glance. As moments, days, and months grind on everything attains a new and separate meaning and purpose if you only look.

The anime is about a third-year High School student, Yukari, who has always sought to merit the approval of her own Japanese society at the direction of her mother. Study, to become sucessfull. Achieve greatness through hard work and dedication. Both the former and latter are true, but to what end? And do the means justify the ends? Yukari realises through the eyes of some creative peers that maybe study doesn't have to mean boredom and hard work, dedication doesn't have to mean misery. She joins her new friends and strikes out on her own to seek her own happiness in the world, breaking through the boundries her previous lifestyle had erected around her. That doesn't necessarilly mean it happens easily, nor does it mean she'll find that happiness anytime soon!

That's the short of it. But it makes me think on a larger scale as well. What do we need, as human beings. Success or Satisfaction? One doesn't always lead to the other. It's rare to have both...for sometimes the hardest things to achieve cost us dear. Sometimes we never stop paying for them either. Look at love; a huge investment of time, money, sacrifices galore. Oftentimes it doesn't even culminate into what we want it to be. Even more often it fails. Is it better to have loved and lost then? Is the simple act of loving worth it?
If your scars can make you smile, perhaps...

In life, we spend a great deal of time chasing after our desires, if we're lucky enough to know what they are. I suppose that in itself can be enough. When you look at life and love, they are really the same in many ways. With either, you have no say how it starts or when or why. You can't shut it off on your own when it's new, or control how it feels. What you do with it is often out of your hands, and you travel down a road with no clear destination. Oh, you can think you know what you want to do with it or how to get to where you think you want to go... but it doesn't matter. You'll end up somewhere you never expected. When you get there whether you are happy or sad about it you try to make the best of it. The only clear decision-making comes at the end:
"Are you happy?"
It's really the only decision that matters, anyway.

Here's the opening theme song to Paradise Kiss. I think even though Iike many Jpop/Jrock songs it's peppered with random English phrases and words...it says a bit of what I am about life..love..whatever.





~Lonely In Gorgeous~
Lyrics (Translated)

I dashed out at 0 o'clock in the morning
I kicked the door open
My glass slippers shattered
And my dress tore, too

Hey, aren't you shocked?
Even if I chased after you, you wouldn't come
My tears overflow and I can't run anymore…

It just might be jealousy… It's-so-pain-ful…!!

"Lonely in Gorgeous" yeah…
Party night… I'm breaking my heart
I want you to find me immediately and embrace me

The headlights shine
…where are you bad boy?
Wipe away my tears with the scarf of love
I can't see anything

I want to scrape up stardust
And hurl it at you
Why do you care?
And yet you are only able to love yourself…

I just might be falling out of love… Is it for real…?!

"Lonely in Gorgeous" yeah…
Party time…won't bury that
If you're not here, then the world seems empty

I want to keep dreaming
"I miss you bad boy"
Please don't shut me inside the glitter
Or I'll break down

"Lonely in Gorgeous"
I'm breaking my heart
Where are you bad boy?
"Lonely in party night"

"Lonely in Gorgeous"
I'm breaking my heart
I miss you bad boy
"Lonely in party time"

"Lonely in Gorgeous" yeah…
Party night… I can't laugh
I don't need anything, just be by my side

"Lonely in Gorgeous" yeah…
Party night… I'm breaking my heart
Inside of the box of glitter that you left behind
I embrace loneliness and I can't move
I don't need anything, just be by my side
Kneel down, look at me
And pledge your love









Thursday, August 19, 2010

Shadow Warrior



So you leave me
yet again

Pride
and
a swollen moral code

stronger than your heart
braver than your soul

Leaving me,
the one you love

to battle once again.

I fight
bareheaded and fierce

Emptyhanded
but brave

And fall
to my knees once more

Not defeated,
winded.

Still alive
to fight another day.

I spread my arms to the sky
looking up
and up

To where you are

Way up on high
where the Exalted reign.

The one whose Gods guide them
whose families protect them

And salute you
in love and pain.

I say a prayer
to Gods who would not have me

Taking up my shield
and bearing it home

To a dark land
where there is no laughter

no love
only longing and solitude

Oh yes, regret.

Pangs of sorrow
jab my ribs

As I journey
ever watchful

More evil will always find me
More darkness ever encompass me.

Only a broken disk of metal
and a hope of love

Protect me from oblivion;
the death of that hope

But I fight
in both our names

Hoping in the feast you enjoy above
You spare a thought for me,

Your servant of love

And maybe smile.


Wednesday, August 18, 2010

In the End

I've always worked hard. Always given everything I had to achieve a set goal. I've always..been driven. Maybe because I was always unwanted, always having to prove myself, constantly told I was worth less than average. Even...that I should be grateful to be left alive at all (thanks mom). But what does one do when one works, and strives, and achieves-for nothing? What if you sacrifice all that you are...and see it all turn to ashes in your hand? Do you fight? Can you fight? You can give time. You can prove effort. You can even change your moral code. What does it matter if you prove your worth when no one but you sees it? They can say "It wasn't enough." They can insist you just aren't trying hard enough. Or, they can just tell you you weren't worthy to begin with. I have been around people that are unforgiving; we all have. I have worked for those that, although believing all along that you weren't good enough, still used you until they'd sapped you dry. Then, they kick you aside and find someone better. What can you do but pick yourself up and try again?

I do and I have.
Now...I'm tired. Just tired. In the End, it doesn't really matter...



Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Love the Way You Lie: Redux

Browsing along aimlessly, I fell upon a gorgeous retelling of the Eminem/Rihanna duet "Love the way you lie to me". Now, nothing is wrong with the original version (video found here); but this one really tugged my heartstrings.

Once again finding my life in someone elses lyrics:




LYRICS

[Chorus]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
Well that's alright because I love the way you lie
I Love the way you lie

VERSE ONE
I've been tryna figure out a way of what I wanna say
But everytime I'm about to say it, my pride just gets in the way

But tonight that aint' the case, I came to say what I wanna say
My mind can think whatever, I promise I won't obey

I've been fighting through the stress, tryna get if off my chest
But I guess, you're the only who truly knows me best

And we fighting every other day, but now it's nothing new
It's another typical day of the life of me and you

Some things you just can't fix, that's the way it gotta be
So I put the blame on you, then you bring it back on me

Don't you see that we throwing these problems up in a circle?
And if we continue with it, our love will never go further

It's the truth babygirl, don't act like you don't know
Everybody else does, we easily let it show

We holding on to something that we will know never last
So maybe we should call it quits and just leave it in the past, what you think...

[Chorus]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
Well that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

VERSE TWO
Been here for a while, feels like I'm stuck now
This is the reason why I didn't wanna settle down

I know I love you, but love is so complicated
And now were both debating on something that love created

But it's so hard when you fall in love at such an early age
Different girl, same story, you're just scared to turn the page

So I break into a rage, fresh up outta the cage
I can't even look at you, I got nothing else to say

You begging me to speak for at least 5 minutes
40 minutes go by and we still ain't even finished

What the hell do I do? To finally prove to you
That there ain't another man that will love you like I do

You say you found another; I say I found another too
But we both know deep inside that's not really true

It's only me and you, and nothing will come between us
So if it's really love, I just hope we really mean it

[Chorus]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
Well that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

VERSE THREE
I try to hold in my tears, but I just cannot do it
I know you ain't worth it, but I am about to lose it

Wait, what am I saying?! Cus baby you are worth it
And people call us crazy but we like to call it perfect

One second I wanna kiss you, the other, I wanna hit you
Lying, cheating, fighting, what couple don't got issues?

I'm about to snap, and like magnets we attract
But no matter how bad, we just keep on coming back

I promise that I've changed,
I promise I'm not the same
I can promise this that and that,
But I know that I'll never change

I can't get away, I'm addicted to the pain
You always made sure, I'll never fall in love again

You're the pieces to my puzzle, you complete me so it seems
It was never my intention to smother you in my needs

The moral of the story, is I hope you understand
There' ain't another man that will love you like I can

[Chorus]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
Well that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie.


Monday, August 16, 2010

Love & Relationships

I've been in a few relationships. Three, to be exact. All lasted over 3 years, the shortest being 2 1/2. Have I learned all I should know about the male sex yet? Stupid question, even in the rhetoric. Well, have I learned all I need to know then? Hm, less stupid. By a microcosm. All I've managed to do, as most women have...is happen to find out (often by accident) certain aspects of your particular man's psyche. Men tend to guard this with the voracity of a rabid chipmunk that has an acorn.

Example:
Your husband, who has been getting pudgy over the last 10 years, comes home with his arms full of organic produce, weights, and vitamin water. He informs you that he has decided he needs to 'get in shape' and stops midsentance to gaze at the television commercial touting some hair-regrowth superserum. As he scribbles the 800 number down frantically do you cooly ask him how the day went with his new female intern, or do you put away the groceries, laugh to yourself, and start plotting out new meal plans?

As a women, you will know it is all about his own self-image..how this new woman makes him look at himself in a different light. As a woman, you will most likely be irritated regardless of the logic value. But also as a woman, you will know this to be the way he feels, and hopefully forgive him. How can you not?

The above example has never happened to me, I am not married nor have I ever been. It's a gauge, a way for me to convey where my thoughts on the matter are leading. Love isn't key to a solid relationship, tolerance is. With acceptance coming a close second. Plus, it's all dependant on how long you've known the person and how you feel about them as well. That's what I've come up with so far, anyway.

My boyfriends have all been pretty different with one constant - they've all been somewhat of social outcasts. Whether they were shy, nerdy, or my favorite...intimidating to the outside world, to me they were and some still are; dear to me. Of course I wish that some of them would have been more lively, taken me out dancing or something, I dunno. But that is who they were, and I wasn't about to make them stop or start doing something that wasn't them.

I am not going to say I was the perfect girlfriend by any means, either. I have a horrific latin temper that made some laugh, some cry, and some get turned on. That being said, I think the worst relationship I could ever be in would be one where the man would ask or tell me to turn off the firey temper. Because you know what that would mean? That he didn't accept who I was, what I'd spent all my life becoming...just because he couldn't handle being smacked upside the head with a hotdog. This is not the same as being bothered by, say...reading hentai doujinshi. If a man I was seriously dating was bothered by it, and wanted me to stop, I'd disagree with him, even argue with him...but you know what? Hentai is something I enjoy, but it isn't ME. I wouldn't call it by any means a fundamental aspect of my personality, or the cornerstone of my sexuality. If it disturbed him, and he wanted it gone...it would be. Without the hentai, masturbation might get a bit dull. But without the fire...I don't know what I'd be like in bed. Maybe I'd do a raw squid impression.


Speaking of seafood, I have some pretty strange eating habits. Long story short, I broke my appetite years ago with anorexia nervosa followed by bulimia. Funny thing is, I love food. I love cooking it for my loved ones. It was the strangest feeling ever to be cooking lovely meals for my grandparents, who I was looking after for several years...and never eat anything. I got over that, thank God. No one helped me or anything, I honestly just got up one day, sick of weighing under 70 pounds, tired of being..well, tired, and started eating again. Eventually the bruises on my hips from the mattress went away, my cheeks lost their cadaverous looks, and I could walk around without feeling like the wind could smash me up against a wall. Food was good again, yay! Ate too much, doubled my weight. Oops, panicked and became bulimic. Then I went on a diet and got back to a safe 115 pounds. With all the pingponging of my digestive system, I'm surprised it didn't blow up.

Years after the big changes, I still struggled. Every boyfriend soon found me out in my struggling. I really wish I could thank them all for being there for me. You that encouraged, cajoled, even yelled at me when I slipped - it all showed your love and caring for me. You that bought my sometimes insane ingredients for my no-fat phases, that watched me measure lettuce and consume more jellybeans in a day than any human should; thank you. You that got up early to cook for me my very specific meals, that went back to the market at 3AM when tuna had .05 grams of fat per serving instead of 0, how I loved you for it. These things, matter. Those memories, last. When I think of my family and loved ones, it is all of you I think about. When I think about going back home, it is those of you that remain a part of my life that I will look for first. You know who you are.

So yea...love=tolerance. Take my faults, if you love me. Accept them, if you can. Don't force me to change, and don't be 'wounded' every time I get upset; don't guilt me into being someone I'm not. You won't like it anymore than I will, that's a promise. If I need to change for the better of us, then let the word "US" be predominant.

I do my thing, and you do your thing. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, and you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you, and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, it's beautiful.

- Frederick E. Perl

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Nobody

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
by Emily Dickinson

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there's a pair of us?
Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one's name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

It's hard to be a number, a statistic on someone's list. It's hard to be chosen to be successful on someone's racial/demographical/socialogical list. I'd rather be myself, and hide if I have to in the shame and pride of being an individual. I just want to be cared about, and have someone that cares for me be willing to sacrifice anything for me..just to make me happy. Is that selfish? I guess it is. But it would really make me shine inside to know that there was someone out there that would miss a day of work, or a raid, or some kind of award even...for me. Even get in trouble..for me. I guess what I'm saying is I want a man that would be my champion.

Sounds really stupid to say it out loud, but I guess I'm stupidly archaic. Yes, the man that gets me will have to be my hero. You don't have to save me from a burning building or find me buried treasure, or even open a door for me or give me a bronze ring. My hero just has to BE there, and make sure I know he is there for me. Yes, show me a sacrifice, get in trouble for me, be late to work a couple times so you can make love to me. Ditch your friends so you can watch anime with me and have them angry at you once or twice. Not every week, or every year even. Just SHOW ME YOU CARE. It's not like we live in the day & age where you can bring me the head of a dragon to profess your undying love to me. So show me a writeup from your boss. Let me hear a friend rant about your dicking them over.


In the sad state of life that I live in, I still want to be treated like a princess. Does that make me a real loser or a real woman?



Saturday, August 14, 2010

On My Own

It's hard being alone, even when you tell yourself that you prefer it that way. There's still an empty hole where companionship should be, and when you have very little to hope for in the future it's even harder. I'm tired of being on my own, tired of having only scraps to hope for. It's not enough anymore. All my life I've been surrounded by people that have no concept of what it's really like to be abandoned, ignored by the people who should love you, and then on top of that to be cursed to choose to spend time with those that have only experienced the best of friends, model families. It's painful.

And now I find myself alone again...





Musical: Les Miserables
Song: On My Own

And now I'm all alone again,
Nowhere to turn, no one to go to.
Without a home, without a friend,
Without a face to say hello to.
And now the night is near,
Now I can make believe he's here.

Sometimes I walk alone at night
When everybody else is sleeping.
I think of him, and then I'm happy
With the company I'm keeping.
The city goes to bed,
And I can live inside my head.

On my own,
Pretending he's beside me.
All alone,
I walk with him till morning.
Without him,
I feel his arms around me,
And when I lose my way I close my eyes
And he has found me.

In the rain,
The pavement shines like silver.
All the lights
Are misty in the river.
In the darkness,
The trees are full of starlight,
And all I see is him and me for ever and forever.

And I know
It's only in my mind,
That I'm talking to myself
And not to him.
And although I know that he is blind,
Still I say,
There's a way for us.

I love him,
But when the night is over,
He is gone,
The river's just a river.
Without him,
The world around me changes.
The trees are bare and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers.

I love him,
But every day I'm learning,
All my life,
I've only been pretending!
Without me,
His world will go on turning,
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known!
I love him...
I love him...
I love him...
But only on my own...


Thursday, August 12, 2010

Going Out With a Bang

Life hurts, but there's a cure!
I have not tried any of these suicide methods so please do not hold me liable if they fail to work for you.

In a public place (to maximise the trauma of others). take a very sharp knife, place under your ribs on the left side. make a fast (or slow) diagonal slit in your abdomen from left rib to right hip bone. then start pulling out your soft warn insides and eating them.

Make your parents/roomate/spouse happy and try to clean the toilet REALLY WELL! Make sure you use both bleach (and make sure it's sodium hypochlorite bleach) *and* ammonia, and use plenty of both. Dive in and start scrubbing, and be sure to breathe deep!

Wear all black and roll around on your back in the middle of a busy intersection at the exact same time the local bars let out...I found that Friday or Saturday nights work best. Good luck!

Begin by taking a box of old, rusted fishhooks and eating them. After a while, gargle with rubbing alcohol, and run into a mall screaming anything. Then proceed to jump off the third-story into the foyer below. Try to either land on Santa's lap or on the line of people waiting for him. Happy Holidays!

The best way to kill yourself when you're a teen is to stand on top of a building hollering "I swear to god im gonna jump, don't nobody try to help me cause i'm jumping". then when you have a large crowd under you pull out a 12 gauge shotgun and blow your head off in front of the three hundred or so onlookers.


A running car in a closed garage should do the trick nice and painlessly. I've heard you just get really sleepy, pass out, and never wake up. Just make sure to do it when you know nobody will notice for many hours. You wouldn't want any ignorant do-gooders spoiling your plans.
PS: If you don't have a garage, you could obtain a piece of large diameter tubing and run it from the tailpipe, through the car window and just sit in it. Just be sure to pull around to the back of the house so nobody notices.

The Way of the Emo: Let yourself be consumed by the ever-blackening aura of civilization and society. You die from the inside out...

This one requires:
1 friend
1 motor vehicle

300 feet of chain or spun metal cable

2 heavy padlocks

One end of the chain/cable encircles your neck, the other goes around some sturdy part of the undercarriage of the auto. Locks are used to secure these. Best part: you stand there and do nothing. Brace yourself! Your assistant gets into the car and starts motor, applies pressure to accelerator while car is in drive or quickly shifts up in case transmission is automatic. When all the slack of the chain is finally taken up, said auto should be going at sufficient speed so that your head is simply ripped off. Recommended car: 1970's Dodge Charger with at least a 427 cubic inch V-8 and 400 horsepower.

Fall in love with somebody you cannot reach, and make sure that the best way to escape of all this hurt and suffering is to end your days right now.

Have one of your friends put a rat in a jar and put the open end of the jar up to your face. Then have them blow torch the other end. The rat will then eat its way through your face before it will let itself be roasted alive.

If you hear in the news that a bomb got inside a public building, go and volunteer yourself as fast as possible, and try to stop the bomb from blowing up. If you cut the right wires, you will be a hero. And if you cut the wrong ones, God heard your wish.

Fall backwards out of a tall tree. That way you see a pretty picture as you die.

Save a pint of blood every couple of days, then fill an Olympic size swimming pool, then drown yourself in it; you're sure to be remembered!

Light yourself on fire! People will talk about you for years to come; you'll gain the infamy in death that you couldn't get in life.

Slitting your wrist is a stupid and melodramatic way to die. What I'm about to do is take my short sword, place it over my heart, and fall on it. Very Roman, but effective.

Try holding your breath, long enough to end it all. Will power!

Get one of your friends to come over and play with your dad's guns. Don't tell him that the one he's using is loaded. Taunt him by pulling the trigger of the one you're using and yelling, "You're dead!" When he does shoot you, it will look like it wasn't your fault, so people will not feel as bad as they would if you'd hung yourself.

Why not put on a nice white summer dress with a nice white wide brimmed hat in July, then jump out in front of a speeding ice cream truck? Just think of the contrast of red blood on that white tattered dress! The bright blood of innocents and the innocence represented by the white of the dress so crudely torn and violated will make a bold statement. And do it in in front of people, that will make it extra tragic because you can scar them for life as well.


Carry on living: the surest way to die.

Try before you die: The drug Ketamine can be used to simulate a near death experience in all its earth-shattering majesty. There are plenty of references to be found online.