Sunday, November 27, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
>>> A dark future...
ROSA from Jesús Orellana on Vimeo.
ROSA is an epic sci-fi short film that takes place in a post-apocalyptic world where all natural life has disappeared. From the destruction awakes Rosa, a cyborg deployed from the Kernel project, mankind’s last attempt to restore the earth’s ecosystem. Rosa will soon learn that she is not the only entity that has awakened and must fight for her survival.
... filled with roses??
Friday, October 28, 2011
>>> This cake...
In my younger days as a child, I always wondered why friendship was such a frail thing, that even the slightest ripple could cause it to break apart. Even up to this stage, I still wonder about that, but at the same time I think I do already know why some certain friendships I had in life had fallen through, while others remained strong.
As an individual, I do like the concept of friendship. Having friends around and treating them like a family or as like-minded individuals with whom i can share with, and have some good memories with. I also believe in the idea that when one starts a relationship, regardless of it being just friends or being girl/boyfriend, both sides have to make an effort to maintain the relationship.
Yes.
I am not kidding.
Even as friends, people still have to make sure that their friendship will last, and that can be either as easy and fun like baking a cake, or for some a little difficult, strange and complicated like baking a cake. It could even be disastrous, harder than a retro Castlevania game, and so gosh-darn impossible like baking a cake. Let me get into some perspective here.
Picture this:
You have just made a friend. You are so overjoyed and happy that you pour in a lot of time and effort just to speak, talk, or just chilll out with that friend for perhaps two weeks. After which, you suddenly start to notice your friend not being as fun as you had imagined at first. You decide perhaps he needs a break, and stop calling him for a while. And as you go through life, maybe, say maybe, you forget about him for a slightly longer period. He doesn't call you at all, to go out, relax over a game of scrabble or over Pokemon. Suddenly you wonder what happened, you call him, he sounds enthusiastic like before and you forget about all the drama. Repeat from top of paragraph, the second sentence.
That happened in my life for more than a good number of times, and it got me thinking, why in the world would something like this happen? I thought of a few reasons. Perhaps your friend is a lazy kind. Maybe he places more priority in other friends than he does to you. It could also be possible you might be invading his personal space. Or that he doesn't share the same enthusiasm or level of trust as you do. The number of reasons are endless, but it leads me to one question; why do I not know the reason for something like this?
I would think that people seem to prefer just not speaking with one another as a form of avoidance and hope to heck that the problem just solves itself, but that's not it works. If one was to keep mum about the problem or whatever he faces, then how is said problem, especially if it's a person, know what he or she can do the salvage the situation? I also have another idea or impression as to why people just do that. It's because they don't want the solution. Or they are just lazy and think that some other person in life will come by and wreck so much havoc in your life that you either change for the better or just keel over and die. To me though, that's as selfish and lazy as telling someone who didn't study for his exam to pray for good results.
It's just not going to happen.
To add on, is it really that hard for some people to just try and make an effort to socialize with a friend? I mean come on, there're just so many ways to do it. Picking the phone and calling or sending a text over, boot up the computer and send IMs over to him/her, etc. Technology has made it possible for us to effortlessly get in touch with people around us for a reason. But, for some, that's just not the point. And yes, I understand that one has their own clique of friends, but that doesn't mean that you have to completely avoid the spectrum of other friends, who range from acquaintances up to "best friends forever".
You aren't just depriving them of a chance to start a friendship, but you are also depriving YOURSELF from making a new friend. You can say that you will live with it, and probably will not feel the repercussions later on in life. Here's a low blow back at you then; what happens if those close friends suddenly have a different priority in life, and choose their own inner circle clique of friends that isn't comprised of you? And you feel lonely, having no one to talk to, so on so forth. Some choose to wait for those friends to call them, some just go ahead and call.
But all in all, it paints a very sad picture, that you would choose to only randomly call or trust in those friends who could have very well made your life a slightly better place to be in. Even then, there's still the chance they will not call you after noticing a pattern. There's just no trust or effort from you.
So to sum up, friendship isn't just built on having a lot of friends to talk with and all that jazz. It is the effort that you have to put in each and every one of them to make sure they stay. And every new friendship is an opportunity.
~LoKal
... ain't your typical shake and bake.
As an individual, I do like the concept of friendship. Having friends around and treating them like a family or as like-minded individuals with whom i can share with, and have some good memories with. I also believe in the idea that when one starts a relationship, regardless of it being just friends or being girl/boyfriend, both sides have to make an effort to maintain the relationship.
Yes.
I am not kidding.
Even as friends, people still have to make sure that their friendship will last, and that can be either as easy and fun like baking a cake, or for some a little difficult, strange and complicated like baking a cake. It could even be disastrous, harder than a retro Castlevania game, and so gosh-darn impossible like baking a cake. Let me get into some perspective here.
Picture this:
You have just made a friend. You are so overjoyed and happy that you pour in a lot of time and effort just to speak, talk, or just chilll out with that friend for perhaps two weeks. After which, you suddenly start to notice your friend not being as fun as you had imagined at first. You decide perhaps he needs a break, and stop calling him for a while. And as you go through life, maybe, say maybe, you forget about him for a slightly longer period. He doesn't call you at all, to go out, relax over a game of scrabble or over Pokemon. Suddenly you wonder what happened, you call him, he sounds enthusiastic like before and you forget about all the drama. Repeat from top of paragraph, the second sentence.
That happened in my life for more than a good number of times, and it got me thinking, why in the world would something like this happen? I thought of a few reasons. Perhaps your friend is a lazy kind. Maybe he places more priority in other friends than he does to you. It could also be possible you might be invading his personal space. Or that he doesn't share the same enthusiasm or level of trust as you do. The number of reasons are endless, but it leads me to one question; why do I not know the reason for something like this?
I would think that people seem to prefer just not speaking with one another as a form of avoidance and hope to heck that the problem just solves itself, but that's not it works. If one was to keep mum about the problem or whatever he faces, then how is said problem, especially if it's a person, know what he or she can do the salvage the situation? I also have another idea or impression as to why people just do that. It's because they don't want the solution. Or they are just lazy and think that some other person in life will come by and wreck so much havoc in your life that you either change for the better or just keel over and die. To me though, that's as selfish and lazy as telling someone who didn't study for his exam to pray for good results.
It's just not going to happen.
To add on, is it really that hard for some people to just try and make an effort to socialize with a friend? I mean come on, there're just so many ways to do it. Picking the phone and calling or sending a text over, boot up the computer and send IMs over to him/her, etc. Technology has made it possible for us to effortlessly get in touch with people around us for a reason. But, for some, that's just not the point. And yes, I understand that one has their own clique of friends, but that doesn't mean that you have to completely avoid the spectrum of other friends, who range from acquaintances up to "best friends forever".
You aren't just depriving them of a chance to start a friendship, but you are also depriving YOURSELF from making a new friend. You can say that you will live with it, and probably will not feel the repercussions later on in life. Here's a low blow back at you then; what happens if those close friends suddenly have a different priority in life, and choose their own inner circle clique of friends that isn't comprised of you? And you feel lonely, having no one to talk to, so on so forth. Some choose to wait for those friends to call them, some just go ahead and call.
But all in all, it paints a very sad picture, that you would choose to only randomly call or trust in those friends who could have very well made your life a slightly better place to be in. Even then, there's still the chance they will not call you after noticing a pattern. There's just no trust or effort from you.
So to sum up, friendship isn't just built on having a lot of friends to talk with and all that jazz. It is the effort that you have to put in each and every one of them to make sure they stay. And every new friendship is an opportunity.
~LoKal
... ain't your typical shake and bake.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
>>> Reality...
What is real, and what is not?
Sometimes the things that happen in the world; relationships, work, life, death, interests and passion, happiness and sadness, isn't anything but a disembodied byproduct of what we see, touch, taste, hear and smell, and perceive to be as real as what lies ahead of us?
What if the very same people that stand before us are merely tricks of the unstable mind, illusions of a frayed thought distant from countless injections and foreign substances that ride the waves of our blood and fluids that we think we have? Do our experiences with each other, all that time and effort, even spoken words even matter a single bit? Friends, family, lovers, nothing but dust when we are left in our own shattered fantasy.
Can we even care anymore? Are our emotions, feelings and thoughts just a figment of a dried out corpse that lies buried in the ground, simply non-existent, past, and dead? Yet why do we still feel things like regret, lamenting over history and wishing that things had taken a better perception than what we see now?
Why even bother about our fellow brethren when we do not even know if they live and breathe like we do, and are just conjurations? Why do we even live and breathe when those pangs of pain, suffering and anger savage the heart like a pack of dogs over a leg of ham? why then do we still acknowledge that our own existence in this time is real, when it could in fact be an illusion, nothing more than ripples in a pond of cold red blood, faded, short, and dark like the depths of our catacombs?
Permit me to resurface the question: what is real, and what is not? The answer my friend, lies in you. Let your heart lead you not astray, but god help you if you fall down the depths of unending paths that lead to nowhere and everywhere. For once you do, there is little hope of return. And everything you know once real, shall disappear like a mirage of a sandstorm that will consume all that you eat, laugh, cry, sleep, think, smell, taste, feel, and live for.
Treasure what is real. You will never know when you might need to ask this question to yourself.
... is it really real? Or not?
Sometimes the things that happen in the world; relationships, work, life, death, interests and passion, happiness and sadness, isn't anything but a disembodied byproduct of what we see, touch, taste, hear and smell, and perceive to be as real as what lies ahead of us?
What if the very same people that stand before us are merely tricks of the unstable mind, illusions of a frayed thought distant from countless injections and foreign substances that ride the waves of our blood and fluids that we think we have? Do our experiences with each other, all that time and effort, even spoken words even matter a single bit? Friends, family, lovers, nothing but dust when we are left in our own shattered fantasy.
Can we even care anymore? Are our emotions, feelings and thoughts just a figment of a dried out corpse that lies buried in the ground, simply non-existent, past, and dead? Yet why do we still feel things like regret, lamenting over history and wishing that things had taken a better perception than what we see now?
Why even bother about our fellow brethren when we do not even know if they live and breathe like we do, and are just conjurations? Why do we even live and breathe when those pangs of pain, suffering and anger savage the heart like a pack of dogs over a leg of ham? why then do we still acknowledge that our own existence in this time is real, when it could in fact be an illusion, nothing more than ripples in a pond of cold red blood, faded, short, and dark like the depths of our catacombs?
Permit me to resurface the question: what is real, and what is not? The answer my friend, lies in you. Let your heart lead you not astray, but god help you if you fall down the depths of unending paths that lead to nowhere and everywhere. For once you do, there is little hope of return. And everything you know once real, shall disappear like a mirage of a sandstorm that will consume all that you eat, laugh, cry, sleep, think, smell, taste, feel, and live for.
Treasure what is real. You will never know when you might need to ask this question to yourself.
... is it really real? Or not?
Monday, September 19, 2011
>>> The block...
You would think that writing an article would be easy. After all, it's just a simple matter of putting pen to paper, fingers to keys, blood to walls with nary more than a thought and a moderate spark of imagination.
How wrong you would be.
It can often be a terrifying prospect to write something, in fact, anything really, that will be consumed by even the minutest of reading audiences (perhaps, like just your mother, for example), let alone the masses that comprise humanity. You'd be consumed by the need to perform to others' expectations, to reach your peers' levels of skill, to have your work acknowledged, accepted and perhaps loved more than the two-bit, two-cent writer that you consider yourself, to achieve some form of reassurance for your self-esteem and -worth through the adulation your writing receives and perhaps other forms of inner pressure and stressors.
Add to that the vise-like pressure of an approaching deadline which may or may not induce a hysterical, hyper form of panic. A boss breathing down your neck for the article that has you gritting your teeth and thinking of how to end him instead of concentrating on your work. The lack of subject matter or even too much free reign in terms of topic that has you pulling your hair out as you strain your brain for something, anything that may be worthy of your wordsmithing skills. Or even a combination of all the above plus a few other myriad other external little issues that leaves you in a desperate struggle of frenetic activity to lay down the quest of submitting an article worthy of print and publishing.
And, now, imagine, just imagine, that you're sitting in your favourite spot somewhere trendy and très cool, with a nice steaming mug of java (and that whole whirl of issues we mentioned earlier), gazing at your trusty laptop's glowing screen that displays the simulacrum of a fresh, white and very empty sheet of paper.
As empty as the sheet is, your mind is perhaps a tenfold worse, devoid of even the slightest sliver of an idea. Your inner vision, your mind's eye, is a field filled with white noise overlying endless planes of very white sand. And you would swear that you could just about make out the faint grind-like buzzing of static. Your set is working but not receiving anything, my friend, which in other words, means that you have gone just gone completely blank.
The horror.
The sheer abject horror that slowly dawns on your already overworked mind that basically sets you upon a regressive to the Stone Age with a vast amount of crazed gibbering worthy of a Cthulhic cultist.
What has caused this horrific occurrence of epic monstrousness?
That has made even composing a simple Facebook status or a fun-fact-filled tweet? That has reduced you to a drooling blank-minded zombie??
Writer's Block.
Dolorus scriptoris, by its binomial nomenclature, is the bane of not only writers but of artists, musicians and other creatives. However, they each have their own unique species of creative stoppages that cockblock their ideas from mating with their intended physical mediums. A dreaded yet familiar foe, a denizen that lurks in its favoured habitat of your mind, stalking its dark recesses, biding its time to strike.
And when it does, it drops in like the finality of a Thwomp Trap squashing that little idea that somewhat resembled Mario in hip-hop baggy overalls and neck-bling completely, utterly flat. You didn't really need it, did you? Oh, you did? Whoops, sorry! Cue rather silent evil laughter. Once sprung, it may never move. At all. Blocking off your reservoir of creativity and flow of ideas like the Hoover Dam on steroids.
This could potentially kill a creative's career if no one acknowledges the problem and accepts it. Especially if the block lasts an inordinate amount of time.
To make matters worse, it does not discriminate, it does not have a set schedule or follow the seasons. It can and often does strike at the worst of times. It matters not if you're normally filled with an abundance of creativity, inspiration and ideas. It will block them all from your reach and DEVOUR them for its continued existence.
In order to rid yourself of the horrid block, there are a few things that you can do. Firstly, do not panic. If you panic, it could potentially get worse in a very short period of time. That being said, just calmly cease all creative activity and pack up.
This is when you use your eternal lifeline: Call a friend. Or friends. Meet up with them, have a nice brew up and talk about it. It helps with the stress that it causes. Your friends, and perhaps even your family, can actually help in the removal of the block as your friends and family may provide ideas and sparks of brilliance that can carry you over the period of the block. And the block itself can't take the pressure of ideas and creativity coming in from both sides. It will inevitably crack like a bottle squeezed in a table vice.
You can also just sit in your favourite coffee joint and either draw or type random bits of things that will eventually collate into one large collage of, in my honest opinion, brilliant creativity.
Other than that, remove yourself from all the sources of stress, possibly search for a counsellor to help you deal with your internal issues, keep calm and drink something warm. Engage in sex if you think it may help since it's rather liberating. Just saying.
You can overcome it and break the block down, beating it back to its dark home.
Just keep calm, tuck that pen behind your ear and have a cuppa.
... is a trap!
How wrong you would be.
It can often be a terrifying prospect to write something, in fact, anything really, that will be consumed by even the minutest of reading audiences (perhaps, like just your mother, for example), let alone the masses that comprise humanity. You'd be consumed by the need to perform to others' expectations, to reach your peers' levels of skill, to have your work acknowledged, accepted and perhaps loved more than the two-bit, two-cent writer that you consider yourself, to achieve some form of reassurance for your self-esteem and -worth through the adulation your writing receives and perhaps other forms of inner pressure and stressors.
Add to that the vise-like pressure of an approaching deadline which may or may not induce a hysterical, hyper form of panic. A boss breathing down your neck for the article that has you gritting your teeth and thinking of how to end him instead of concentrating on your work. The lack of subject matter or even too much free reign in terms of topic that has you pulling your hair out as you strain your brain for something, anything that may be worthy of your wordsmithing skills. Or even a combination of all the above plus a few other myriad other external little issues that leaves you in a desperate struggle of frenetic activity to lay down the quest of submitting an article worthy of print and publishing.
And, now, imagine, just imagine, that you're sitting in your favourite spot somewhere trendy and très cool, with a nice steaming mug of java (and that whole whirl of issues we mentioned earlier), gazing at your trusty laptop's glowing screen that displays the simulacrum of a fresh, white and very empty sheet of paper.
As empty as the sheet is, your mind is perhaps a tenfold worse, devoid of even the slightest sliver of an idea. Your inner vision, your mind's eye, is a field filled with white noise overlying endless planes of very white sand. And you would swear that you could just about make out the faint grind-like buzzing of static. Your set is working but not receiving anything, my friend, which in other words, means that you have gone just gone completely blank.
The horror.
The sheer abject horror that slowly dawns on your already overworked mind that basically sets you upon a regressive to the Stone Age with a vast amount of crazed gibbering worthy of a Cthulhic cultist.
What has caused this horrific occurrence of epic monstrousness?
That has made even composing a simple Facebook status or a fun-fact-filled tweet? That has reduced you to a drooling blank-minded zombie??
Writer's Block.Dolorus scriptoris, by its binomial nomenclature, is the bane of not only writers but of artists, musicians and other creatives. However, they each have their own unique species of creative stoppages that cockblock their ideas from mating with their intended physical mediums. A dreaded yet familiar foe, a denizen that lurks in its favoured habitat of your mind, stalking its dark recesses, biding its time to strike.
And when it does, it drops in like the finality of a Thwomp Trap squashing that little idea that somewhat resembled Mario in hip-hop baggy overalls and neck-bling completely, utterly flat. You didn't really need it, did you? Oh, you did? Whoops, sorry! Cue rather silent evil laughter. Once sprung, it may never move. At all. Blocking off your reservoir of creativity and flow of ideas like the Hoover Dam on steroids.
This could potentially kill a creative's career if no one acknowledges the problem and accepts it. Especially if the block lasts an inordinate amount of time.
To make matters worse, it does not discriminate, it does not have a set schedule or follow the seasons. It can and often does strike at the worst of times. It matters not if you're normally filled with an abundance of creativity, inspiration and ideas. It will block them all from your reach and DEVOUR them for its continued existence.
In order to rid yourself of the horrid block, there are a few things that you can do. Firstly, do not panic. If you panic, it could potentially get worse in a very short period of time. That being said, just calmly cease all creative activity and pack up.
This is when you use your eternal lifeline: Call a friend. Or friends. Meet up with them, have a nice brew up and talk about it. It helps with the stress that it causes. Your friends, and perhaps even your family, can actually help in the removal of the block as your friends and family may provide ideas and sparks of brilliance that can carry you over the period of the block. And the block itself can't take the pressure of ideas and creativity coming in from both sides. It will inevitably crack like a bottle squeezed in a table vice.
You can also just sit in your favourite coffee joint and either draw or type random bits of things that will eventually collate into one large collage of, in my honest opinion, brilliant creativity.
Other than that, remove yourself from all the sources of stress, possibly search for a counsellor to help you deal with your internal issues, keep calm and drink something warm. Engage in sex if you think it may help since it's rather liberating. Just saying.You can overcome it and break the block down, beating it back to its dark home.
Just keep calm, tuck that pen behind your ear and have a cuppa.
... is a trap!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
>>> Them sounds...
Fuck this.
What's the meaning behind that statement?
Does it have to mean anything other than "fuck this"?
Something gets in the way of your desired path, what do you do?
Do you stand there staring at the obstacle thinking, "Why me?"? Or do you go, "Fuck this", and get that bloody obstacle out of your fucking way?
Only one person can decide what course of action is right for you, and that person is you.
There is no mountain that cannot be climbed.
There is no ocean that cannot be crossed.
There is no opponent that cannot be defeated.
Get in my way, and it will end badly for you.
by Pervalidus
... like fightin' words, son.
What's the meaning behind that statement?
Does it have to mean anything other than "fuck this"?
Something gets in the way of your desired path, what do you do?
Do you stand there staring at the obstacle thinking, "Why me?"? Or do you go, "Fuck this", and get that bloody obstacle out of your fucking way?
Only one person can decide what course of action is right for you, and that person is you.
There is no mountain that cannot be climbed.
There is no ocean that cannot be crossed.
There is no opponent that cannot be defeated.
Get in my way, and it will end badly for you.
by Pervalidus
... like fightin' words, son.
>>> Credit Control...
Everyone just loves money. But more importantly, everyone NEEDS money. But it doesn't just become a single person's daily affection and obsession; it becomes a family's, a company's, a corporate's, a country's, even the world's 9th wonder. However in my own personal humble opinion, words of a wonderful money needing monger, a corporate is dangerous with money. And it so happens that this same corporate is the same one everyone turns to everyday when it comes to cashing in that cheque you got from sucking off a guy's rancid PEN-cil colored shoes, when it comes to applying for that all new lovely shiny Visa or Mastercard that you plan on buying expensive DIL-bert comics that are not available in your country, and of course, to go to for wonderful free services that make going to find a PRO sound like an awesomely horrible way to spend cash yet get "expert" help on getting that fish stuck in your sink that is going into the same sandwich to the PROs for their wonderfully abstract job of mangling your kitchen sink.
For those who guessed right, no points unfortunately, it's the bank. And with it come the greediest people in the whole world short of Oprah Winfrey and Donald Trump(And a certain party last I checked). But these people do not get all the the shit of the day thrown at them, nor do Oprah and Donald lest they decided to do a stand-up comedy show with Colin and Ryan and have a hoedown about being rich and having something to do with all that money. That's right, I'm talking about the service personnel. Today however, i will be focusing on a group of wonderful people who keep the banks going, who however have their names blemished so badly under the mud, even mud is cleaner than their name. And these people are the Credit Control team.
Imagine yourself to be that person who was cashing in that cheque. What if that cheque was going to the bank for all the amounts of interest you had owed the bank? Oh you'd be so mad that you'd want to strangle a turkey and make it cough out foie gras? and if that guy's rancid PEN-cil colored shoes happen to also be PEN-cil flavored too? Now that would suck. You gripe and grimace at the ones on the phone telling you that payment needs to be made while they have to listen to your sob story about how much you had to suck on someone's PEN-cil colored AND flavored shoes in order to get the monies to make that payment.
Then imagine yourself to be that person applying for the wonderful visa card and purchasing that DIL-bert comic when you didn't realize it was more expensive with air, sea and land shipping, and when you pay for the amount of the comic, you suddenly EXPLODE with RAGE and ANGER when you find out the cost was much more than what you bargained for, and you RANT and WAIL at the ones on the phone informing you kindly that you have to make payment for what you bought while they listen to your crude control of the most colorful and probably most explicit english language that ever was spoken or shouted to their right virgin ear(or left).
Finally imagine yourself to be that person going for the wonderful free services thinking what a wonderful day it is to finally make a trip down to the red li-OH MY GOD THE SERVICES CAME WITH ANNUAL FEES??? AT 15% INTEREST TOO??? You get a call from that lovely lady you used to know as a friend and tear their ears off with the amount of noncenstry that "they" had done onto you when all they were doing were simply to give you a friendl-erm...Not so friendly reminder after you just took their ear off with nary a breath and a chorus of howls that can only be made by a single mammal alone. By now if you had the patience to follow the writing i have written, you'd have noticed that someone seems to have been missing from the equation of the hate and blame game.
Agreed, oh wonderful follower of the ATM card, that once someone breaches your sense of moral dignity and pride beyond all comprehension, that you stop using that ATM card no more. But do recall where your pented up anger, frustration, hatred, and unknown dictionary of cuss words went to at the moment of your much needed release. Nope, it was not up the bank's ass, it was up THAT credit control officer's ass that it went into. That's what she said, but please remember this the next time you decide to go ruin the credit control officer's day. Also note worthy is how one as a consumer often lacks the roll of 20 for spot when it comes to disclaimers that make the roll difficulty a grand difficulty scale of 50 to read, and a +10 to all of the above: everyday life x hrs spent awake.
They are just as much human as you are, and you are just about as human as YOU make THEM out to be, in their minds. It's a mutual hatred, generated by the obsessive compulsive need for the green, purple, red, yellow and blue notes that everyone has in their wallets. So everytime you look at that piece of paper, think about the people don't see it until once a month, but need to reclaim it everyday as their job not just for the sake of themselves, but for a corporate that also welcomes you, the consumer.
So before you as a consumer decides to thresh things out unreasonably or erratically depending on the spontaneous combustion your brain can take from all the day's wonderful lessons, pause for a moment to realize that on the line, is another person just like you, quite possibly spontaneously brain-combusted from another 28 of you before you. As a side note as well, please don't be a Credit Control officer. Very unhealthy for you, and for everyone else around you for at least 60 yards.
~NOTE:
disclaimer: Anyformofmaliceangerhatredwondersadnessorwhateverformofemotionthatthisarticlemakesisofnointentionwhatsoeveranditispurelyforthesakeofentertainmentmediafunlaughterpeaceandjoysoallyoupeoplewhoowncreditvisamasteroratmcardspleasedonotblameyourbankbecauseimjustasillyguywhohasnothingbettertodoatpresentstagetimewhateversojustreadlaughnodnoticeandwalkonstraightcauseyoudidntseeanythingnopenothingatallitsallanillusionitellyounothingbutanillusion!!
... is not your bitch.
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
>>> In some cases...
Miasma PSA from Ben Fleuter on Vimeo.
... heading for the light seems like a good idea.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
>>> May our Dreams be true...
To all my friends, you are the stars that make up the galaxy that is my life and the stuff that only dreams can be made of, so this is dedicated to all of you. May all your dreams come true and the nightmares end. Amen.
... so we can escape the Nightmares.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
Sunday, August 07, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
>>> One shoe off...
The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making
This is the first time that I, personally, have seen a visual form of trailer for a book. And in video form, no less. The illustrations are rather darling, to say the least, tastefully done with such child-like innocence of flavour. And the background - or should that be foreground? - music is quite entrancing and fit as perfect as a peg to the illustrations as well.
I am even more intrigued and interested in reading this novel and to share it amongst my friends.
Ah, well...
... time waits for no one, but we shall wait for the right time.
So many books, so little time.
And time is money.
Isn't it?
*echoes of laughter trail away into the shadows*
... the way is clear.
This is the first time that I, personally, have seen a visual form of trailer for a book. And in video form, no less. The illustrations are rather darling, to say the least, tastefully done with such child-like innocence of flavour. And the background - or should that be foreground? - music is quite entrancing and fit as perfect as a peg to the illustrations as well.
I am even more intrigued and interested in reading this novel and to share it amongst my friends.
Ah, well...
... time waits for no one, but we shall wait for the right time.
So many books, so little time.
And time is money.
Isn't it?
*echoes of laughter trail away into the shadows*
... the way is clear.
Saturday, July 09, 2011
>>> Iron within...
My younger brothers have been playing this for the last TWO weeks.
Yes, they're both looking forward to the latest installment - or sequel - of Assassin's Creed.
I can't blame them, but the track's music video is cooler than the AC trailer, in my opinion.
... Iron without.
Friday, July 08, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
>>> Ten days...
I am rather amazed.
I've not had a cigarette in ten days. Not since my monstrous asthmatic attack that sent me to the hospital. It's quite surprising, honestly. No withdrawal symptoms nor any hallucinations of any sort.
At least, not yet.
Not to say that I haven't had the urge or temptation to smoke. I mean, even thinking about subject has me in the grip of the urge. And right now, my stomch is currently scrunched up in a fetal position which is rather uncomfortable.
And with no cigarettes comes no alcohol. Haven't had a drop in what feels like an age, not even a little during the BeerFest, which is an irony in of itself.
I think that I might finally be going Straight Edge proper. We'll see what I'm like in a month, and then in three months. If I survive that long, I'll design a Straight Edge tattoo for myself. Why? As a constant reminder to not go wander off the path and keep to it. I mean, do I really wanna get something permanently inscribed onto my skin and then make it meaningless? No, I didn't think so either.
And speaking of tattoos, I [finally] finished designing the top half of a personal half-sleeve. Inspiration and reference was derived from the Time Lord sigils/seals from the Doctor Who series. I've also added my own simply designed numbers to each "planet". The central one represents my mother, the one to its left is for my father, and going anti-clockwise from there is mine, my younger brother and then the youngest brother. The two smaller ones in the lower half represent the two dogs (we always seem to own them in pairs, I have no idea why.). The star was based off something I saw on Bolter & Chainsword, and stands for freedom and a galaxy of extended family & friends since they're all stars in their own right. yes, Iknow, it all sounds so lame when it's all put down in writing, but what can you do, right? There still might be some editing later, but for now, I'm quite happy with it. I'm just trying to figure out whether it really should go on my arm or my leg.
I'll post better pictures when I can get my grubby hands on a scanner [Oh, Ghooooooooouuuuuuuullll~!!! - Kaze] and then you'll see the insanity that my mind produces in its proper form.
*laughs*
Oh, and would someone buy this for me, please? *puppy-dog-eyes*
Anyways, I have this track on my iPod and I think that it's rather brilliant. I'm not sure if anyone else is following or listening to this band, but so far, I'm pretty much happy with their sound and groove. It has me headbanging, so, yeah, of course, I'm happy! I sincerely suggest checking them out if you're into metalcore.
And now my youngest brother has me cracking my head about what metalcore song he heard a while ago from my laptop. Argh. I feel a headache coming.
Well, I'm off, still lots to do and ever so little time to do it all in.
If only I could disappear in a puff of smoke like the Nightcrawler.
Oh, well.
Laters!
... and not a puff of smoke.
I've not had a cigarette in ten days. Not since my monstrous asthmatic attack that sent me to the hospital. It's quite surprising, honestly. No withdrawal symptoms nor any hallucinations of any sort.
At least, not yet.
Not to say that I haven't had the urge or temptation to smoke. I mean, even thinking about subject has me in the grip of the urge. And right now, my stomch is currently scrunched up in a fetal position which is rather uncomfortable.
And with no cigarettes comes no alcohol. Haven't had a drop in what feels like an age, not even a little during the BeerFest, which is an irony in of itself.
I think that I might finally be going Straight Edge proper. We'll see what I'm like in a month, and then in three months. If I survive that long, I'll design a Straight Edge tattoo for myself. Why? As a constant reminder to not go wander off the path and keep to it. I mean, do I really wanna get something permanently inscribed onto my skin and then make it meaningless? No, I didn't think so either.
And speaking of tattoos, I [finally] finished designing the top half of a personal half-sleeve. Inspiration and reference was derived from the Time Lord sigils/seals from the Doctor Who series. I've also added my own simply designed numbers to each "planet". The central one represents my mother, the one to its left is for my father, and going anti-clockwise from there is mine, my younger brother and then the youngest brother. The two smaller ones in the lower half represent the two dogs (we always seem to own them in pairs, I have no idea why.). The star was based off something I saw on Bolter & Chainsword, and stands for freedom and a galaxy of extended family & friends since they're all stars in their own right. yes, Iknow, it all sounds so lame when it's all put down in writing, but what can you do, right? There still might be some editing later, but for now, I'm quite happy with it. I'm just trying to figure out whether it really should go on my arm or my leg.I'll post better pictures when I can get my grubby hands on a scanner [Oh, Ghooooooooouuuuuuuullll~!!! - Kaze] and then you'll see the insanity that my mind produces in its proper form.
*laughs*
Oh, and would someone buy this for me, please? *puppy-dog-eyes*
Anyways, I have this track on my iPod and I think that it's rather brilliant. I'm not sure if anyone else is following or listening to this band, but so far, I'm pretty much happy with their sound and groove. It has me headbanging, so, yeah, of course, I'm happy! I sincerely suggest checking them out if you're into metalcore.
And now my youngest brother has me cracking my head about what metalcore song he heard a while ago from my laptop. Argh. I feel a headache coming.
Well, I'm off, still lots to do and ever so little time to do it all in.
If only I could disappear in a puff of smoke like the Nightcrawler.
Oh, well.
Laters!
... and not a puff of smoke.
Monday, June 27, 2011
>>> It's not my fault...
A little while ago, a friend [whose identity shall remain a secret to protect her life (LOL) so we shall just call her 'Jazz' for now] told me, rather loudly in an Uptown bookstore, that I am way too generous and thoughtful that it's stupid.
My response?
An increduluous look.
Why did she even say such a thing?
Apparently because (1) I saw this Moleskine® Book Journal (Yes, I had to include the ® mark!) and I thought that it would be perfect for Miss Purple, which cost, well, half a mighty hundred. And then, (2) I saw this comic that seemed like it was right up Brighteyes' alley, the Pride of Baghdad , but I'm not sure why. *laughs* And the ultimate culmination of my "stupidity" was (3) purchasing the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows novel - which was on sale, mind you, for a whopping nine dollars - for my youngest brother since his original copy was stolen. Jazz, the same friend and not the music genre, almost hit me with another hardcover novel in the same pile because (4) I was considering buying the Special Edition instead, which cost a quarter of a hundred dollars.
*shrug*
So I like, or would like, to purchase things that seem appropriate or useful or something along those lines for people who I know, love and all that jazz. Jazz - yes, the friend - informed me that even if it's so-called normal for me, it's awkward for a lot of people. Especially the exes. And if life was like a comic book, her words would probably have been highlighted in bold, too. I was kind of flabbergasted, and told her that that's their problem, and not mine. People around me who are my friends and who know what I'm like should just accept the things that I do, like buying gifts and the like.
It's what I do.
Money's not an issue when I have it. Never has been. If I have it, I use it. Simple as that. And, for me, the best use of money, on something other than food, is on my family, extended family and friends. Hell, I'd give away my last dollar if it helped someone else.
It doesn't matter if I'm cash-strapped later, I'll figure something out later. Always do. So, there's no real need to worry.
If it's awkward or something for you, then fine, I'm sorry. But that's just you, nothing to do with me. My "job" in life is to help people, to make the people I know happy. I have no qualms with doing that, it doesn't make me feel at all.
And no one has the right to shove that on me or anyone else.
I do what I do because it makes others happy which in turn makes me feel good. A little selfish, perhaps, but everyone wins.
Bottom-line?
Don't make me responsible for what you feel when I've not done anything to warrant it. It's just me and the way I am, if you really knew me as a friend, then you'd know all this already.
This left Jazz a little dizzy, but she left it alone with a shake of her head, a toss of her hair and a distinct "Hummmph!".
*laughs*
But I know that she's just trying to protect me, in her own way.
She also realizes that I'm a sucker for young adult sci-fi and fantasy novels, like Catherine Jink's The Abused Werewolf Group, Scott Westerfeld's Leviathan, Angie Sage's Septimus Heap series, John Flanagan's The Ranger's Apprentice series and their ilk. [There's a hint in there somewhere.] She thinks that if she dropped a pile of them in front of me, I'd ignore the rest of the world. Her words: "I wouldn't even know if an atomic bomb went off right in my face."
She's probably right.
Hell, no, in fact, she IS right.
"Even when right next to you, close enough to tickle your nape with my breath, I am nowhere near. For as soon as I open a book, I am far away."
Books are both my escape and my inspiration.
And they make me, well, me, too.
*shrugs with a laugh*
And with that, I end this rather link-heavy entry, leaving you all to a wonderful week ahead and the Pride of Baghdad wallpaper that sits below.
ENJOY!
... if I'm a giving person.
My response?
An increduluous look.
Why did she even say such a thing?
Apparently because (1) I saw this Moleskine® Book Journal (Yes, I had to include the ® mark!) and I thought that it would be perfect for Miss Purple, which cost, well, half a mighty hundred. And then, (2) I saw this comic that seemed like it was right up Brighteyes' alley, the Pride of Baghdad , but I'm not sure why. *laughs* And the ultimate culmination of my "stupidity" was (3) purchasing the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows novel - which was on sale, mind you, for a whopping nine dollars - for my youngest brother since his original copy was stolen. Jazz, the same friend and not the music genre, almost hit me with another hardcover novel in the same pile because (4) I was considering buying the Special Edition instead, which cost a quarter of a hundred dollars.
*shrug*
So I like, or would like, to purchase things that seem appropriate or useful or something along those lines for people who I know, love and all that jazz. Jazz - yes, the friend - informed me that even if it's so-called normal for me, it's awkward for a lot of people. Especially the exes. And if life was like a comic book, her words would probably have been highlighted in bold, too. I was kind of flabbergasted, and told her that that's their problem, and not mine. People around me who are my friends and who know what I'm like should just accept the things that I do, like buying gifts and the like.
It's what I do.
Money's not an issue when I have it. Never has been. If I have it, I use it. Simple as that. And, for me, the best use of money, on something other than food, is on my family, extended family and friends. Hell, I'd give away my last dollar if it helped someone else.
It doesn't matter if I'm cash-strapped later, I'll figure something out later. Always do. So, there's no real need to worry.
If it's awkward or something for you, then fine, I'm sorry. But that's just you, nothing to do with me. My "job" in life is to help people, to make the people I know happy. I have no qualms with doing that, it doesn't make me feel
And no one has the right to shove that
I do what I do because it makes others happy which in turn makes me feel good. A little selfish, perhaps, but everyone wins.
Bottom-line?
Don't make me responsible for what you feel when I've not done anything to warrant it. It's just me and the way I am, if you really knew me as a friend, then you'd know all this already.
This left Jazz a little dizzy, but she left it alone with a shake of her head, a toss of her hair and a distinct "Hummmph!".
*laughs*
But I know that she's just trying to protect me, in her own way.
She also realizes that I'm a sucker for young adult sci-fi and fantasy novels, like Catherine Jink's The Abused Werewolf Group, Scott Westerfeld's Leviathan, Angie Sage's Septimus Heap series, John Flanagan's The Ranger's Apprentice series and their ilk. [There's a hint in there somewhere.] She thinks that if she dropped a pile of them in front of me, I'd ignore the rest of the world. Her words: "I wouldn't even know if an atomic bomb went off right in my face."
She's probably right.
Hell, no, in fact, she IS right.
"Even when right next to you, close enough to tickle your nape with my breath, I am nowhere near. For as soon as I open a book, I am far away."
Books are both my escape and my inspiration.
And they make me, well, me, too.
*shrugs with a laugh*
And with that, I end this rather link-heavy entry, leaving you all to a wonderful week ahead and the Pride of Baghdad wallpaper that sits below.
ENJOY!
... if I'm a giving person.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
>>> BAD PANDA KLAN...
The first crew tee designed by yours truly, KAZE, with elements contributed by LIBRE and LOKEL. Wouldn't have been possible without the support from the Family! You know who you are.
This tee is designed from random elements found online while bored. This tee may never be produced, having been done for the sheer hell of it to help tire me out before I sleep. "With wings to see and eyes to fly."
There's some meaning behind that line, but I'll let y'all try to figure it out before I ever explain it.
See yas!
.... rolling through!
Saturday, June 25, 2011
>>> More geekness...
Battle-Brother Caendirn
Roaring Iron, Thunder's Vengeance
Storm Warden Devastator (Deathwatch Devastator Marine)
DW Caendirn
... pervades my vicinity.
Roaring Iron, Thunder's Vengeance
Storm Warden Devastator (Deathwatch Devastator Marine)
DW Caendirn
... pervades my vicinity.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
>>> Such a geek am I...
Geiarsson Krakenspear
Lightning Across The Ice, Young Wolf of the Forge, Blood Trail of Stars
Space Wolf Iron Priest (Deathwatch Techmarine)
Geiarsson, before his elevation to the ranks of the Sky Warriors, was a young, tribeless hunter who wandered the seas of Fenris with his surviving kin, trading half or more of their hunts for shelter and protection of other sympathetic tribes.
While resting under the protection of another tribe, they wer set upon by unknown foes while most of its warriors were away. With first bow and arrow, then blade and spear, the young hunter danced along the walls and grounds of the village, carving a bloody furrow through the numerically superior foe. Darting here and there like greased lightning, sweat and blood steaming off his body, protecting kin and ally alike with a song of the hunt and a ghostly grin upon his lips.
Until he was finally surrounded, spent of energy, covered in the bloody gore of the foe and his lifeblood trickling slowly out of over two dozen wounds. Panting heavily, he stood erect with a lopsided grin as a giant in dark crimson stalked across the blood-soaked ground. With a rumbling growl, the giant picked up Geiarsson and corralled his surviving kin, and disappeared into the wintry wastes of Fenris.
That was over two centuries ago. Since then, Geiarsson has been one of the youngest Wolves to be inducted and initiated into the Iron Priesthood, his knack for craft- and forge-work standing him in good stead. He has proven to be a hunter of prodigious skill and fortune, having hunted almost all manner of Fenrisian creatures, from the fabled Wolves of Asaheim to the almost mythic Kraken of the Fenrisian Depths.
He has sailed the Ocean of Stars amongst the retinues Great Companies, setting his own saga in iron and stone amongst the epics of another Great Hunt which set him against many foes of the Imperium, amongst them the Traitor Legions. Now, his saga has brought him to the Watch Fortress of Erioch, to lend his skills and experience to the Deathwatch of the Ordo Xenos.
Description: A giant of a man, wrapped in a leather bodysuit, stands proudly in the middle of his meditation chamber, eyes the colour of a winter storm ringed in gold looking out from a weather-beaten, darkly-tanned face criss-crossed with pale blade scars, his gigantic arms crossed across his immense chest. His scalp half shorn for the trio of electro-grafts implanted behind his ear at the base of his skull, his red mane worn long to fall over the right of his head. He is clean-shaven except for a clean, plaited goatee of red on his chin.
His left eye dons a facial tattoo, a variation of the Iron Wolf totem, its jaws wrapping around his eye socket.
Inscribed around his thick, bullish neck are Fenrisian runes that read, to those who know how, Iron Within, Iron Without, Indomitable Redoubt.
His left arm is a a utilitarian yet artistically wrought work of bionics; the colour of gunmetal, a matte sheen like oil slicked across water. The faint traceries of engravings of the lightning streaked skies, stormy oceans and ice floes of Fenris worked across its surface, the foamy waves worked into the silently howling heads of wolves, can be barely seen under the chamber's luminescent glow-orbs.
A fist-sized pendant of bone lies hung by an adamantine chain fashioned in the shape of prayer beads. Carved exactingly from the tooth of a Fenrisian Kraken into the Cog of the Mechanicus with an Iron Wolf skull at its heart and engraved with minute skulls in sectioned inlays, it glows with a faint bluish cast, projecting a chilly yet calming aura.
A wolf pelt the colour of freshly fallen snow, dusted with granite-like grey, and of unimaginable size girds his waist like large kilt, its legs dangling down and covering his thighs, claws curved downwards across his knees. Its noble head, its eyes still seemingly agleam with life, rests between the legs, teeth bared in a deadly rictus grin.
A ghost of a grin plays across his face, somewhat at odds with his martial bearing, showing off a legacy of his forbears, the elongated canines of the Space Wolf.
A true warrior, an accomplished hunter and a forge-master of Fenris. And, now, a member of the Deathwatch, waiting patiently to prove his mettle and deadly worth yet again.
Demeanor: A man proud of his skills and abilities, undaunted by the universe at large, Geiarsson possesses a calculative, highly analytical mind. Constantly assessing nearly everything around him, his creative mind shuffles and files away details for another time and possible use. Some joke that he is infected by a form of memno-virus, but it is mind that not only helps him hunt but to craft and forge, sorting through all the sensory and mental input plus stimuli to achieve his goals.
Like most Wolves, he is honest to a fault, but is tempered by a sense of tact that usually prevents others from being offended. He also does not possess the typical animosity towards Astartes of the Dark Angels and their ilk. Friendly, talkative and a good listening ear, especially over the odd tankard of Fenrisian ale, Geiarsson is a likable and respectable warrior-priest of the Adeptus Astartes and an unusual representative of the Space Wolves.
Optional: Geiarsson possesses a Data-Slate whose body was carved from the bones of a Kraken and Fenrisian Wolf into the cunning design of a puzzlebox which must be unlocked to view the screen. It's inner workings are interlocked, sophisticated systems of recording, relaying, transmitting and receiving all forms of data, with massive storage banks done in nano-detail, with a large touch-screen that can project flat, 2-D images to full holographic videos. It also posseses a port for electro-graft connections. This Data-Slate, for now known affectionately as the Bonebox, may sometimes be carried into battle under his wolf pelt, chained and maglocked to his armoured belt.
DW Geiarsson (Edit)
... that I created a Deathwatch character for fun!
Lightning Across The Ice, Young Wolf of the Forge, Blood Trail of Stars
Space Wolf Iron Priest (Deathwatch Techmarine)
Geiarsson, before his elevation to the ranks of the Sky Warriors, was a young, tribeless hunter who wandered the seas of Fenris with his surviving kin, trading half or more of their hunts for shelter and protection of other sympathetic tribes.
While resting under the protection of another tribe, they wer set upon by unknown foes while most of its warriors were away. With first bow and arrow, then blade and spear, the young hunter danced along the walls and grounds of the village, carving a bloody furrow through the numerically superior foe. Darting here and there like greased lightning, sweat and blood steaming off his body, protecting kin and ally alike with a song of the hunt and a ghostly grin upon his lips.
Until he was finally surrounded, spent of energy, covered in the bloody gore of the foe and his lifeblood trickling slowly out of over two dozen wounds. Panting heavily, he stood erect with a lopsided grin as a giant in dark crimson stalked across the blood-soaked ground. With a rumbling growl, the giant picked up Geiarsson and corralled his surviving kin, and disappeared into the wintry wastes of Fenris.
That was over two centuries ago. Since then, Geiarsson has been one of the youngest Wolves to be inducted and initiated into the Iron Priesthood, his knack for craft- and forge-work standing him in good stead. He has proven to be a hunter of prodigious skill and fortune, having hunted almost all manner of Fenrisian creatures, from the fabled Wolves of Asaheim to the almost mythic Kraken of the Fenrisian Depths.
He has sailed the Ocean of Stars amongst the retinues Great Companies, setting his own saga in iron and stone amongst the epics of another Great Hunt which set him against many foes of the Imperium, amongst them the Traitor Legions. Now, his saga has brought him to the Watch Fortress of Erioch, to lend his skills and experience to the Deathwatch of the Ordo Xenos.
Description: A giant of a man, wrapped in a leather bodysuit, stands proudly in the middle of his meditation chamber, eyes the colour of a winter storm ringed in gold looking out from a weather-beaten, darkly-tanned face criss-crossed with pale blade scars, his gigantic arms crossed across his immense chest. His scalp half shorn for the trio of electro-grafts implanted behind his ear at the base of his skull, his red mane worn long to fall over the right of his head. He is clean-shaven except for a clean, plaited goatee of red on his chin.
His left eye dons a facial tattoo, a variation of the Iron Wolf totem, its jaws wrapping around his eye socket.
Inscribed around his thick, bullish neck are Fenrisian runes that read, to those who know how, Iron Within, Iron Without, Indomitable Redoubt.
His left arm is a a utilitarian yet artistically wrought work of bionics; the colour of gunmetal, a matte sheen like oil slicked across water. The faint traceries of engravings of the lightning streaked skies, stormy oceans and ice floes of Fenris worked across its surface, the foamy waves worked into the silently howling heads of wolves, can be barely seen under the chamber's luminescent glow-orbs.
A fist-sized pendant of bone lies hung by an adamantine chain fashioned in the shape of prayer beads. Carved exactingly from the tooth of a Fenrisian Kraken into the Cog of the Mechanicus with an Iron Wolf skull at its heart and engraved with minute skulls in sectioned inlays, it glows with a faint bluish cast, projecting a chilly yet calming aura.
A wolf pelt the colour of freshly fallen snow, dusted with granite-like grey, and of unimaginable size girds his waist like large kilt, its legs dangling down and covering his thighs, claws curved downwards across his knees. Its noble head, its eyes still seemingly agleam with life, rests between the legs, teeth bared in a deadly rictus grin.
A ghost of a grin plays across his face, somewhat at odds with his martial bearing, showing off a legacy of his forbears, the elongated canines of the Space Wolf.
A true warrior, an accomplished hunter and a forge-master of Fenris. And, now, a member of the Deathwatch, waiting patiently to prove his mettle and deadly worth yet again.
Demeanor: A man proud of his skills and abilities, undaunted by the universe at large, Geiarsson possesses a calculative, highly analytical mind. Constantly assessing nearly everything around him, his creative mind shuffles and files away details for another time and possible use. Some joke that he is infected by a form of memno-virus, but it is mind that not only helps him hunt but to craft and forge, sorting through all the sensory and mental input plus stimuli to achieve his goals.
Like most Wolves, he is honest to a fault, but is tempered by a sense of tact that usually prevents others from being offended. He also does not possess the typical animosity towards Astartes of the Dark Angels and their ilk. Friendly, talkative and a good listening ear, especially over the odd tankard of Fenrisian ale, Geiarsson is a likable and respectable warrior-priest of the Adeptus Astartes and an unusual representative of the Space Wolves.
Optional: Geiarsson possesses a Data-Slate whose body was carved from the bones of a Kraken and Fenrisian Wolf into the cunning design of a puzzlebox which must be unlocked to view the screen. It's inner workings are interlocked, sophisticated systems of recording, relaying, transmitting and receiving all forms of data, with massive storage banks done in nano-detail, with a large touch-screen that can project flat, 2-D images to full holographic videos. It also posseses a port for electro-graft connections. This Data-Slate, for now known affectionately as the Bonebox, may sometimes be carried into battle under his wolf pelt, chained and maglocked to his armoured belt.
DW Geiarsson (Edit)
... that I created a Deathwatch character for fun!
Monday, June 20, 2011
>>> Two-fold meanings...
Iron
Iron within,
Iron without,
Indomitable redoubt,
'Ware her walls,
They shalt hold thee,
Out, away and at bay,
For ever and a day,
Thy efforts futile,
Like waves broken 'pon,
Yon distant, rocky shores.
... for those who may understand.
Iron within,
Iron without,
Indomitable redoubt,
'Ware her walls,
They shalt hold thee,
Out, away and at bay,
For ever and a day,
Thy efforts futile,
Like waves broken 'pon,
Yon distant, rocky shores.
... for those who may understand.
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
>>> COZ WE AIN'T...
Thursday, June 02, 2011
>>> How to survive...
Death.There are worse things than death.
Indeed, it is true, if cliché, what some villains of the silver screen say, that there are worse things than death.
In so saying, there is also something else that can be said about these "things" that are worse than death:
You'll be surprised what you can live through.
It's true.
After all, one of the things that can be worse than death is heartbreak. It can bring you to the brink, leaving you hanging by a nail, maybe a thread of sinew, and you'd wonder what would it be like to just let go. Sometimes, in some cases, it's like a near-death experience. Or even comparable to a first brush with death.
Some would say that heartbreak is a death of sorts. The death of a love, even. Someone once told me that it felt like his heart was literally shriveling up and dying by the yard. I can't say that I felt that way, but, personally, it's always left me feeling empty inside, like something tore my heart out and poured cold, nebulous vacuum from space into my chest cavity.
But at the end of it all, you're still pretty much stuck in place with the thoughts of the women you've loved waltzing through your mind with alarmingly frequency.
And, then, horrifyingly, perhaps you realize that there's only space in your heart for one but you know that it'll never happen but you can't quite let go, so, it's a I'm-sorry-that-room-isn't-for-rent-or-sale-can't-have-it-thanks-have-a-nice-life-bye kinda thing if any other women end up entering your life. Or it'll end up coloring your future relationships in stark shades, in a horrid contrast to your past. Which might be even more horrifying.
Plus, Fate may keep throwing you curveballs by setting up happenstance run-ins with at least one of them in places that you least expect, with random phone-calls and text messages out of the blue from the far side of the moon. But you'll be nice, even when everything inside of you screams bloody murder while being thrown through and shredded by the industrial meat grinder that are your emotions and metaphorical heart.
And you don't know whether you want something more or less from that person. You can't decide whether you want that person to disappear from your life for-freaking-ever or to always have them there. And there's no real middle ground.
You just can't make up your mind at all which will send your mind into a vortex of frustration, angst, pain and sorrow, with perhaps a little sorrow thrown in for good measure, which it may or may not exit in one functioning piece.
But you'll survive, you'll get over it soon enough.
Even if you feel somewhat lobotomized by the whole chained series of events.
After two failed relationships in under a year and the 'death' of something before it even began, it makes me wonder how on earth do you ever get over such an event, let alone a chain of them? And how long does it take before you feel "back to normal"? What kind of closure is required for the chapter to be ended, to reach le fin?
I have no clue.
None what-so-ever.
And, yes, I'm still on this trip, this godforsaken path to somewhere that's hopefully not here. No, I'm not completely A-OK, even after such a long period of time. I can't keep up the facade of being alright and functioning with everyone, sorry.
My closest friends know how I really feel and have been feeling over the past year. It has been a constant source of frustration for me and of some irritation to my familia, my extended family of friends.
Does that make me a hypocrite? For keeping up a mask and appearances around most people, but dropping it with the closest people to myself?
Probably.
Not that I care about that. Much.
It's hard to be okay, I guess. The pain is still there, hiding in shadowy corners, being vague and then incredibly sharp. And, yet, there is that contradictory feeling of happiness and pride when speaking about either of my somewhat recent two exes, the stories of, what were to me, very important and interesting memories, that war with the after-recital feelings of nostalgic sadness and incompleteness.
And, perhaps, it's even harder to "get over it" since it can't quite reconcile with my hardwired [romantic] belief that, regardless of what happens, a part of one's self will always love them.
Perhaps it's a lesson or even a test. Or even one gigantic joke woven by the Fates.
Who the hell knows?
And we've already established that I certainly don't.
So, I try to distract myself.
Bury myself in any kind of work. Lose a job. Hang out with my friends as much as possible. Throw myself into projects that may or may not see fruition. Look for a new vocation. Smoke. Go to new places, try new things. Read webcomics and online stories of any kind. Read more books. Look at girls, random and known. Maybe unknowingly flirt if they stop to give me the time of day. Skate. Buy stuff online. Stumble across porn and watch for less than five minutes before realizing that my mind has better ideas about sex. Think. Get tattooed. Compose lyrics and poetry. Make crazy plans for the future that may never happen. Go for counselling to beat and break the steel of negativity that binds and constricts me. Smoke helluva lot more. Eat over irregular periods. Go out late with no real agenda. Play silly Facebook games. Skate more. Get physically hurt while skating. Smoke a little more to ease the pain on a psychological level. Sleep late and get kicked out of bed for no real reason. Lie to the rest of the world that I'm okay when I'm not. Hit a club. Dance. Get wasted. Smoke even more. Draw. Sketch. Write. Blog. Sleep. Dream.
Rinse, wash, repeat.
Until either I break or I get through and over.
Even while claiming to the world that I'm over it all.
So, yes, there is something worse than death.
Bitches, please. Y'all survive. Maybe live even.
I'm right here and I know.
Right now, I barely EXIST.
But, somehow...
... I'll survive.
We all will.
Somehow.
... a car wreck of a heart, after the fact.
Monday, May 30, 2011
>>> Someone says something...
The Zephyr is proud to present the future EP release from We Are Control, Remote Control Masses and, as a little tidbit, the lyrics of its first song, The Starting Line, right off the EP!Now, you must be wondering who or what is We Are Control, right?
We Are Control is a band of the future. It will ground-breaking, genre-defying, ear-splitting, head-banging and all that sort of good stuff that a truly impressive band is.
For it doesn't exist [YET!], except in the minds of a select, mad few. In other words, it's an imaginary band! Had you all going for a minute there, didn't we?
But, perhaps, someday it will see the light of day, the dark of night, and not reside within the shadows of some rather cracked minds. We dare hope.
The inspiration for the band's name and subsequent composition of the following song lyrics are all due to @dontfollowRoma, so this one's for him!
Props for the image used in the EP cover goes to the talented people at LRCE. All those little carved people made an awesome image that we couldn't resist using.
The Starting Line
We Are Control
We Are Control
Antennas screwed into my head,
Control where my feet shuffle.
Sparks coming out of my ears,
I only hear what They want me to.
Their fingers are in my brain,
Squeezing, tugging, pulling, pushing.
My eyes pick up static like tv,
I only see what They want me to.
[Bridge]
I almost fall asleep everytime I blink.
Ha! I can't do anythin' or even think.
(Without Their say-so.)
[Chorus]
I've been moved along (By remote controllers)
Down the starting line. (For Their favourites)
Preprogrammed to lose. (For Their benefit)
Can't move till someone presses GO! (GO GO GO!)
I'm stumbling around in the crowd,
The endless masses that trudge
Like puppets on invisible strings,
Their dull pleasure marionettes.
Black cameras at every street corner,
Vultures watching your every move.
Uniformed dogs glaring and growling
While I scurry like a lab rat.
Bridge
Chorus
Force-fed false propaganda
Straight into my cracked mind,
The antennas vibrate like mad,
Receiving what They broadcast.
Subliminal messaging derails
Whatever I'm thinking of now.
They're deep, deep in my head
And. They're. In. Control!
(There is no escape.)
Bridge
Chorus x2
[Commentator] Oh, look!
The nose moved across the starting line!
(They're. In. Control!)
Control where my feet shuffle.
Sparks coming out of my ears,
I only hear what They want me to.
Their fingers are in my brain,
Squeezing, tugging, pulling, pushing.
My eyes pick up static like tv,
I only see what They want me to.
[Bridge]
I almost fall asleep everytime I blink.
Ha! I can't do anythin' or even think.
(Without Their say-so.)
[Chorus]
I've been moved along (By remote controllers)
Down the starting line. (For Their favourites)
Preprogrammed to lose. (For Their benefit)
Can't move till someone presses GO! (GO GO GO!)
I'm stumbling around in the crowd,
The endless masses that trudge
Like puppets on invisible strings,
Their dull pleasure marionettes.
Black cameras at every street corner,
Vultures watching your every move.
Uniformed dogs glaring and growling
While I scurry like a lab rat.
Bridge
Chorus
Force-fed false propaganda
Straight into my cracked mind,
The antennas vibrate like mad,
Receiving what They broadcast.
Subliminal messaging derails
Whatever I'm thinking of now.
They're deep, deep in my head
And. They're. In. Control!
(There is no escape.)
Bridge
Chorus x2
[Commentator] Oh, look!
The nose moved across the starting line!
(They're. In. Control!)
... and the spark of inspiration starts a fire of creation.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
>>> A little sadness...
Miss Soliloquy
Far from you.
The faint, vague sounds of something cracking.
I miss you.
I won't say who you are for there is no point.
But I do miss you.
Hopefully, someday, I won't feel it anymore.
But for now I do.
... flits through the shadows within my mindscape.
Far from you.
The faint, vague sounds of something cracking.
I miss you.
I won't say who you are for there is no point.
But I do miss you.
Hopefully, someday, I won't feel it anymore.
But for now I do.
... flits through the shadows within my mindscape.
Friday, May 06, 2011
>>> The time is drawing near...
I've been as honest as I can, and I've done what I've had to. I did what I did, I enjoyed what I could. I've done my time, paid my dues. I can regret nothing.
Some chapters are long, some are short, some should've happened, some shouldn't have, but they all come to a close sometime.
For, and make no mistake, it's coming down to closing time yet again. So, grab your last drinks & that last mouthful and walk with me through that soon-to-be closing door. The door that closes on a filled chapter of my life.
To those who walked with me, helped write the pages, thank you. It's meant a lot to me over the past three quarters of a year. I wish I had more physical, visual mementos, but at least I have the memories.
Thank you all, customers, friends, colleagues, fellow storekeepers and so many others, for making my time so memorable within that strange spaces of that mallscape.
I'll see you when I see you.
SALUT LA FAMILIA!!!
... that the store's shutters will close on another era, another chapter of my life.
Some chapters are long, some are short, some should've happened, some shouldn't have, but they all come to a close sometime.
For, and make no mistake, it's coming down to closing time yet again. So, grab your last drinks & that last mouthful and walk with me through that soon-to-be closing door. The door that closes on a filled chapter of my life.
To those who walked with me, helped write the pages, thank you. It's meant a lot to me over the past three quarters of a year. I wish I had more physical, visual mementos, but at least I have the memories.
Thank you all, customers, friends, colleagues, fellow storekeepers and so many others, for making my time so memorable within that strange spaces of that mallscape.
I'll see you when I see you.
SALUT LA FAMILIA!!!
... that the store's shutters will close on another era, another chapter of my life.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
>>> Going back through my past...
Well, this article sounds like an awesome argument for almost purely foot-based armies in the 'new' edition of 40K.
Especially when everyone is going MECHAnical heavy. With all those tanks, speeders, dreadnoughts, flying troopships, gunships and, Gods help us, TITANS.
And almost every race now has something that is the equivalent of the Imperial Titans. So, who says that the Galaxy is unfair?
Anyways, perhaps I'll eventually dust off my old army of Wolves and unleash them across the tabletop battlegrounds of the future.
Perhaps.
... and we find my love of miniature wargames.
Especially when everyone is going MECHAnical heavy. With all those tanks, speeders, dreadnoughts, flying troopships, gunships and, Gods help us, TITANS.
And almost every race now has something that is the equivalent of the Imperial Titans. So, who says that the Galaxy is unfair?
Anyways, perhaps I'll eventually dust off my old army of Wolves and unleash them across the tabletop battlegrounds of the future.
Perhaps.
... and we find my love of miniature wargames.
>>> Of mechas...
Well, being the genius that I am, I've decided to do my own SAVE JAPAN piece. So, store rules be damned, I'm going to do some designing today!
Ha!
And while searching for ideas, I came across this illo of a mecha from Zone of Enders 2. It looks pretty cool, especially with what I believe are electro-magnetic accessories (possible fin-funnels?) that are hovering around its thruster pack unit. Plus the designer has elimanated the difficult design required with feet/boot parts by removing them and giving the legs a tapered look that end in flat, slightly runneled ends. Not sure how it would stand on them, but perhaps the mecha itself is just required to operate in vacuum. Or perhaps it has, like its free floating accessories, some sort of electro-magnetic field that holds it up while standing upon them. I may try out this design idea for what I'm going to design.
I have a whole buncha ideas bouncing around in my head, they all seem great. But then, everything seems like a good idea at the time.
*chuckles*
Let's see where it goes, ey?
Wish me luck!
... and a certain rising sun.
Ha!
And while searching for ideas, I came across this illo of a mecha from Zone of Enders 2. It looks pretty cool, especially with what I believe are electro-magnetic accessories (possible fin-funnels?) that are hovering around its thruster pack unit. Plus the designer has elimanated the difficult design required with feet/boot parts by removing them and giving the legs a tapered look that end in flat, slightly runneled ends. Not sure how it would stand on them, but perhaps the mecha itself is just required to operate in vacuum. Or perhaps it has, like its free floating accessories, some sort of electro-magnetic field that holds it up while standing upon them. I may try out this design idea for what I'm going to design. I have a whole buncha ideas bouncing around in my head, they all seem great. But then, everything seems like a good idea at the time.
*chuckles*
Let's see where it goes, ey?
Wish me luck!
... and a certain rising sun.
Monday, April 25, 2011
>>> April's almost over...
*chuckles*
I'm going to keep this short since my brain is not exactly functioning at full capacity right now.
I blame my sinus rhinitis. My nose is running like a tap on a slow trickling flood of silliness.
See?
Did that even make any sense!?
*sigh*
Anyways, life's been rather quiet of late.
In more ways than one.
At least the family's moved into the "newer" place in AMK and we're slowly settling in. The Move has been insane and tempers were worn thin & fraying around our necks. Hopefully Peace decides to settle in soon, too. The unpacking is going at a snail's pace, but at least it's going along. My nose is suffering from the amount of dust that's been thrown around PLUS the way the boxes and assorted stuff are stacked is not doing my claustrophobia any favours.
*pained look*
When all's said and done, I just have to finish clearing the boxes in the boys' room and then it's a trip to the storage hub to retrieve my art books and some other stuff. After that, I have to find a way to get my clothes washed.
Why?
'Coz the washin machine hasn't been set up and I'm running out of boxers.
But you guys didn't need to know that.
Sorry.
Well, not really.
But, anyways, I'm off to do stuff.
Laters.
... and it's not much of a tragedy.
I'm going to keep this short since my brain is not exactly functioning at full capacity right now.
I blame my sinus rhinitis. My nose is running like a tap on a slow trickling flood of silliness.
See?
Did that even make any sense!?
*sigh*
Anyways, life's been rather quiet of late.
In more ways than one.
At least the family's moved into the "newer" place in AMK and we're slowly settling in. The Move has been insane and tempers were worn thin & fraying around our necks. Hopefully Peace decides to settle in soon, too. The unpacking is going at a snail's pace, but at least it's going along. My nose is suffering from the amount of dust that's been thrown around PLUS the way the boxes and assorted stuff are stacked is not doing my claustrophobia any favours.
*pained look*
When all's said and done, I just have to finish clearing the boxes in the boys' room and then it's a trip to the storage hub to retrieve my art books and some other stuff. After that, I have to find a way to get my clothes washed.
Why?
'Coz the washin machine hasn't been set up and I'm running out of boxers.
But you guys didn't need to know that.
Sorry.
Well, not really.
But, anyways, I'm off to do stuff.
Laters.
... and it's not much of a tragedy.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
>>> In so much pain...
I'm having the worst migraine that I've ever had in the past decade by my reckoning. I'm suffering from sensory overload since everything around me is being rendered in exceptionally sharp detail. Sight, sound, smell, touch & taste [Oh, my god, I can still taste the LJS chilli sauce! XP - Dust] are all overwhelmingly clear and right about now, I want to turn off most of the lights in the store, up the temp of the A/C and hide in the fitting room till everything goes back to normal.
But I can't.
Because I have to work.
Seriously, fuck this, I really don't need it right about now.
I shouldn't even be in front of a computer screen, either.
*flat look with pain flashing like sirens in my eyes*
And thank the Gods for Van (from Red Mango), the little bundle of endless bubbly good cheer, who is such a sweetie. She bought me lunch from Long John Silver's and gave me a coupla panadol extras [That's extra strength aspirin for those from the Western Hemisphere. - Kaze] that she had in her store. She is such a savior, a veritable Gods-sent lifesaver.
Now to wait for the meds to kick in. The food has stopped the gastric pains and the hiccups [Thank you very much, Van! - Dust]. So, please, pain, go the hell away. Far, far away. Like a dozen zipcodes away kinda far away!
However, there's an upside to this whole mess.
The event that really made this day rather memorable, in a damn good way, is that I served Rui En and she bought an Obey t-shirt from the store!
Why the giggly, flushed fanboy gushing?
Confession: I used to have a mad crush on her, once upon a time, a long time ago. I still like her, but not like a crazy fanboy stalker-ish kinda thing, aiight? I'm not a creep, thanks! *laughs and the winces* Stupid migraine...
... Anyways, I didn't even know she had a wikipedia entry! *holds up a sign with "XD" on it* Unfortunately, I didn't have a camera on me so no pictures of her in the shop nor of me standing with her. *sad sigh*
Oh, well...
... can't have everything.
And now Ting-Ting is yelling at me over BBM to get my head checked 'coz my migraines are getting worse. I really should. She's right. So's Vik, and Marshmello, and Pervalidus, and a buncha other people.
Nice to know people care.
*smiles*
Well, gotta go.
More work to do.
Laters!
... and feeling like Death has come.
But I can't.
Because I have to work.
Seriously, fuck this, I really don't need it right about now.
I shouldn't even be in front of a computer screen, either.
*flat look with pain flashing like sirens in my eyes*
And thank the Gods for Van (from Red Mango), the little bundle of endless bubbly good cheer, who is such a sweetie. She bought me lunch from Long John Silver's and gave me a coupla panadol extras [That's extra strength aspirin for those from the Western Hemisphere. - Kaze] that she had in her store. She is such a savior, a veritable Gods-sent lifesaver.
Now to wait for the meds to kick in. The food has stopped the gastric pains and the hiccups [Thank you very much, Van! - Dust]. So, please, pain, go the hell away. Far, far away. Like a dozen zipcodes away kinda far away!
However, there's an upside to this whole mess.
The event that really made this day rather memorable, in a damn good way, is that I served Rui En and she bought an Obey t-shirt from the store!
Why the giggly, flushed fanboy gushing?
Confession: I used to have a mad crush on her, once upon a time, a long time ago. I still like her, but not like a crazy fanboy stalker-ish kinda thing, aiight? I'm not a creep, thanks! *laughs and the winces* Stupid migraine...
... Anyways, I didn't even know she had a wikipedia entry! *holds up a sign with "XD" on it* Unfortunately, I didn't have a camera on me so no pictures of her in the shop nor of me standing with her. *sad sigh*
Oh, well...
... can't have everything.
And now Ting-Ting is yelling at me over BBM to get my head checked 'coz my migraines are getting worse. I really should. She's right. So's Vik, and Marshmello, and Pervalidus, and a buncha other people.
Nice to know people care.
*smiles*
Well, gotta go.
More work to do.
Laters!
... and feeling like Death has come.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
>>>Ridiculous...
But it's close enough.
So, the whole weekend has been rather on the downside.
Why?
First off, I've been given notice that I have a month to find another job. The reasons behind it really baffle me, but it's kind of a small blessing since I've been getting rather frustrated working here. It's not a bad place to work, but some things are seriously out of whack.
Second off the bat, the lady who I've been enjoying conversing with, and whose company is quite amazing, has completely ceased contact with me. Which sucks to the utmost maximum possible and beyond since there was not even an indication of it coming. And no reason, so I have no idea what I did wrong. It hurts and I have no idea why.
And to rub salt into it all (don't ask me why it feels like that, I can't figure it out so it just does), i find the aforementioned lady and my ex in the same set of photographs due to the fact they share a mutual friend (the same mutual friend who introduced me to her in the first place) who had her birthday celebration over the weekend which they both attended. Eff-Em-Ell.
*sighs deeply*
Lastly, and this is the strike-out, I'm tired beyond all belief. I have no idea why. *flat look* I blame a recent Friday night, a wedding on Saturday and sheer insanity over the weekend. Feh.
I'm grateful for my homies, I truly am. If not for you lot, I would've lost my mind ages upon ages ago.
So, to my peeps like Pervalidus, Naffa, Marshmello, Flalicious, Ting-Ting, Kimmy-Kat, Babe Ruth, Babe Lin, Fiq-V, Core, Libre, Mister X and all the rest who aren't listed here for you know who you are.
Misery is a travesty that keeps on being visited upon me.
This blows.
Majorly.
Fuck.
... is not exactly the word that I'd use.
So, the whole weekend has been rather on the downside.
Why?
First off, I've been given notice that I have a month to find another job. The reasons behind it really baffle me, but it's kind of a small blessing since I've been getting rather frustrated working here. It's not a bad place to work, but some things are seriously out of whack.
Second off the bat, the lady who I've been enjoying conversing with, and whose company is quite amazing, has completely ceased contact with me. Which sucks to the utmost maximum possible and beyond since there was not even an indication of it coming. And no reason, so I have no idea what I did wrong. It hurts and I have no idea why.
And to rub salt into it all (don't ask me why it feels like that, I can't figure it out so it just does), i find the aforementioned lady and my ex in the same set of photographs due to the fact they share a mutual friend (the same mutual friend who introduced me to her in the first place) who had her birthday celebration over the weekend which they both attended. Eff-Em-Ell.
*sighs deeply*
Lastly, and this is the strike-out, I'm tired beyond all belief. I have no idea why. *flat look* I blame a recent Friday night, a wedding on Saturday and sheer insanity over the weekend. Feh.
I'm grateful for my homies, I truly am. If not for you lot, I would've lost my mind ages upon ages ago.
So, to my peeps like Pervalidus, Naffa, Marshmello, Flalicious, Ting-Ting, Kimmy-Kat, Babe Ruth, Babe Lin, Fiq-V, Core, Libre, Mister X and all the rest who aren't listed here for you know who you are.
Misery is a travesty that keeps on being visited upon me.
This blows.
Majorly.
Fuck.
... is not exactly the word that I'd use.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
>>> Somewhat at peace...
The violet pain has ended, the scarlet anger has subsided, the dark onyx sadness has lifted and a little ray of gold has cut through the grey clouds of gloom & misery. Now, to keep that ray alive so it will spread across the fields enshrouded in the mottled shadows in a blaze of a molten golden sunrise and to find a way to clear the static pattern of pixelated blacks and whites of confusion that makes patches of the overcast sky, to repaint them in the brilliant hues of a royal blue. Confusion caused by one girl in particular, who has ceased any form of discourse and conversation with me for over a week, and the reasons behind the cessation.
*sighs sadly*
But things change, in time, and the colours are laid over what was before as feelings and thoughts change.
While we're talking about colour, I'v realised that my ka will never return to its original pristine colour of polished jade. It feels more like it's been striated with veins of crimson and obsidian. The effects of the world we reside in; all the anger, frustration, sadness, bleak depression and jaded cynicism that make up the darker colours of negative emotions that seep in and infectiously infest one's inner being.
But, I think music and art helps keep it at bay, I think, or perhaps slow it down somewhat, injecting brighter colours of purple, blues, greens, oranges and yellows through their vibe and feel.
Our souls are usually a riot of colour after the lives we live, I believe, a veritable spectrum and rainbow of hues, shades and textures.
And right now, the melodies, rhythms, tunes and grooves of Jimmy Eat World's 23, The Moffats' Misery, Lady Antebellum's I Need You Now, Yellowcard's Only One and The Devil Wears Prada's Louder Than Thunder are wafting, floating, soaring and blasting along the airwaves as I type out this in a light black script on a blindingly white screen. There is no real reason for this mix of music since they were placed within a playlist of sheer randomness. But they do weave a beautiful tapestry with their vibes, colours, feelings and images that are absorbed by one's spirit.
But, perhaps, there's a deeper meaning within them all.
Or perhaps I think, and imagine, too much and beyond the norm?
*shrugs nonchalantly*
Everything will be okay.
And I'll be fine.
So will you.
... as my volcanic heart slumbers in nightfall's shadow.
*sighs sadly*
But things change, in time, and the colours are laid over what was before as feelings and thoughts change.
While we're talking about colour, I'v realised that my ka will never return to its original pristine colour of polished jade. It feels more like it's been striated with veins of crimson and obsidian. The effects of the world we reside in; all the anger, frustration, sadness, bleak depression and jaded cynicism that make up the darker colours of negative emotions that seep in and infectiously infest one's inner being.
But, I think music and art helps keep it at bay, I think, or perhaps slow it down somewhat, injecting brighter colours of purple, blues, greens, oranges and yellows through their vibe and feel.
Our souls are usually a riot of colour after the lives we live, I believe, a veritable spectrum and rainbow of hues, shades and textures.
And right now, the melodies, rhythms, tunes and grooves of Jimmy Eat World's 23, The Moffats' Misery, Lady Antebellum's I Need You Now, Yellowcard's Only One and The Devil Wears Prada's Louder Than Thunder are wafting, floating, soaring and blasting along the airwaves as I type out this in a light black script on a blindingly white screen. There is no real reason for this mix of music since they were placed within a playlist of sheer randomness. But they do weave a beautiful tapestry with their vibes, colours, feelings and images that are absorbed by one's spirit.
But, perhaps, there's a deeper meaning within them all.
Or perhaps I think, and imagine, too much and beyond the norm?
*shrugs nonchalantly*
Everything will be okay.
And I'll be fine.
So will you.
... as my volcanic heart slumbers in nightfall's shadow.
Sunday, April 03, 2011
>>> Things get...
My stint with the Army Reserves is finally over after two weeks. It was an interesting and somewhat strange ICT this time around.
Why?
Having no vehicles to look after and shepherd, and instead of joining one of the fighting platoons, I was seconded to the QM and dealt with stores. Lots of heavy lifting with all the rest of the storemen always exclaiming on how much I can carry and my ingenuity. *laughs* I also managed catch up on sleep, too, since it was mostly long periods of nothing to do with a short burst of hectic activity followed by yet more long periods of nothing. *laughs some more*
It's sad that our OC and CQ have completed their ICT obligations, having hit the age limit and being sent to the Reserves Lists. But I'm happy for them because they've done their service and have earned their rest from it.
For me, I have seven more to go. Although it will not be with the Flight as a whole, sadly. This was our last ICT together as a whole unit, as MDF. From now on, we have a different designation and we've been broken down into smaller units to complement and support the other flights.
But it looks like I might be having another ICT this year, which will cut down the number I have to perform even more and I may be done way before I'm 40.
It's a good thing, trust me.
On the personal front...
... things aren't as cheery.
EDIT: It seems in my usual mild form of dyslexicness, I managed to not type out an entire portion of this post! So, here it is, in wonderful italics:
The packing at home is not going well, the parentals are feeling the stress so hard that they're taking it out on the nearest warm bodied targets in their vicinity with dire sonic consequences for their victims. And they're becoming incredibly inflexible about almost everything and everything turns into a shouting match of some kind. It's incredibly exhausting and somewhat damaging.
YEESH.
And for some strange reason everyone keeps asking me when I'm going to get married, for some strange reason. I get the fact that I'm in my late twenties, but, seriously, I don't intend to get married anytime soon. After all, there's no one in my life at the moment and I'm not going to rush into a marriage with the first available woman I meet, thank you very much. And, NO, I'm not letting my mother arrange any matches or marriages for me, NO WAY IN HELL.
I mean, would you?
Even if I did get married, it'll be to someone of my choosing with her mutual agreement to the matter. With mutually shared feelings, if you catch my drift. My life, my terms, thank you very much.
And carrying on with the rest of my strange life...
From one, now three of my exes have been texting me. To make this very clear, I really don't mind, it's dead nice since it means we're on speaking terms. But, it makes one wonder what their motives are, like what do they want... IF you were paranoid, that is. I just wonder what prompted them to text me of all people, but it's nice of them to remember me, honestly.
So, I just take it as it comes. If they speak, they speak, it's totally cool. AIYC, y'know, Always In Your Corner. I'm there if they need me, you know what I mean. *small smiles*
I'm just concerned about Maple now, the infamous Pancakes Girl as some of my close friends call her. Not a whisper or a peep out of her since last Saturday which bothers me. But I'll keep it cool. If she wants to reach me, she knows how to.
And it's strange to admit, but I do kind of miss her. *shrugs* Oh, well...
And, now, to pray that I get the place in Macquarie. I need my father's credit card since I don't have one of my own. Though I'm wondering if they'd accept debit instead. But, that aside, I really, really need to get in, just to prove a point to my parents and all the naysayers who believe that I don't stand a chance of getting into any Uni. AND I rerally need to figure out where I can get cash from for it. Like a TON of it!
*looks skywards*
I'm a man in serious need of miracles.
Laters, all.
... a little weirder as time crawls along.
Why?
Having no vehicles to look after and shepherd, and instead of joining one of the fighting platoons, I was seconded to the QM and dealt with stores. Lots of heavy lifting with all the rest of the storemen always exclaiming on how much I can carry and my ingenuity. *laughs* I also managed catch up on sleep, too, since it was mostly long periods of nothing to do with a short burst of hectic activity followed by yet more long periods of nothing. *laughs some more*
It's sad that our OC and CQ have completed their ICT obligations, having hit the age limit and being sent to the Reserves Lists. But I'm happy for them because they've done their service and have earned their rest from it.
For me, I have seven more to go. Although it will not be with the Flight as a whole, sadly. This was our last ICT together as a whole unit, as MDF. From now on, we have a different designation and we've been broken down into smaller units to complement and support the other flights.
But it looks like I might be having another ICT this year, which will cut down the number I have to perform even more and I may be done way before I'm 40.
It's a good thing, trust me.
On the personal front...
... things aren't as cheery.
EDIT: It seems in my usual mild form of dyslexicness, I managed to not type out an entire portion of this post! So, here it is, in wonderful italics:
The packing at home is not going well, the parentals are feeling the stress so hard that they're taking it out on the nearest warm bodied targets in their vicinity with dire sonic consequences for their victims. And they're becoming incredibly inflexible about almost everything and everything turns into a shouting match of some kind. It's incredibly exhausting and somewhat damaging.
YEESH.
And for some strange reason everyone keeps asking me when I'm going to get married, for some strange reason. I get the fact that I'm in my late twenties, but, seriously, I don't intend to get married anytime soon. After all, there's no one in my life at the moment and I'm not going to rush into a marriage with the first available woman I meet, thank you very much. And, NO, I'm not letting my mother arrange any matches or marriages for me, NO WAY IN HELL.
I mean, would you?
Even if I did get married, it'll be to someone of my choosing with her mutual agreement to the matter. With mutually shared feelings, if you catch my drift. My life, my terms, thank you very much.
And carrying on with the rest of my strange life...
From one, now three of my exes have been texting me. To make this very clear, I really don't mind, it's dead nice since it means we're on speaking terms. But, it makes one wonder what their motives are, like what do they want... IF you were paranoid, that is. I just wonder what prompted them to text me of all people, but it's nice of them to remember me, honestly.
So, I just take it as it comes. If they speak, they speak, it's totally cool. AIYC, y'know, Always In Your Corner. I'm there if they need me, you know what I mean. *small smiles*
I'm just concerned about Maple now, the infamous Pancakes Girl as some of my close friends call her. Not a whisper or a peep out of her since last Saturday which bothers me. But I'll keep it cool. If she wants to reach me, she knows how to.
And it's strange to admit, but I do kind of miss her. *shrugs* Oh, well...
And, now, to pray that I get the place in Macquarie. I need my father's credit card since I don't have one of my own. Though I'm wondering if they'd accept debit instead. But, that aside, I really, really need to get in, just to prove a point to my parents and all the naysayers who believe that I don't stand a chance of getting into any Uni. AND I rerally need to figure out where I can get cash from for it. Like a TON of it!
*looks skywards*
I'm a man in serious need of miracles.
Laters, all.
... a little weirder as time crawls along.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
>>> In desperate need...
The military and my company has not paid me yet so I'm royally broke. I have a grand total of four dollars in the bank and 85 goddamn cents in my pocket. SO, financial stress and woes has decided to run me through with its cruel blade, transfixing my noggin in a royal headache.
But that could be the lack of sleep stabbing needles into my cranium.
Or both.
Cripes.
And then there's the situation at home with everyone's tempers fraying and frustration plus stress mounting as we get closer and closer to the moving date with no help or relief in sight. Which royally kills everything, even the urge to come home. *frowns*
And yet, above all this, the fact that a single young lady (ie. Maple) is not speaking to me in anyway is bothering me more than any of this. Even if I don't have my priorities right, it's still a matter of did I do or say something, or was she spooked? I don't know, honestly at a loss. *sighs* My neighbours, who're counsellors, think that I'm infatuated with Maple and I'm not inclined to disagree. It makes sense, if you stop and think about it. Why else would I be so bothered if she stopped talking to me, ey? *shrugs*
Bad mistake, then.
Perhaps.
However, I really do miss speaking with her, the long conversations and discussions. And she made think, like really think, exercising the grey matter, as it were. *looks skywards* Mister Gee, help a fella out, I need some really good luck here, please?
And to make it feel even stranger, one of the exes starts texting me again. Not that I mind, you understand. It's just that, well, she doesn't talk to me much, if at all, and then suddenly it's pop-goes-the-weasel-out-of-the-blue-jack-in-the-box. Like woah! It's nice, but then again...
It sometimes feel like a conspiracy to make me [or you, if you've ever gone through this yourself] lose our collective minds.
Well, gotta go, this crazy rollercoaster called Life™ never ends.
I'll catch y'all later on the upswing!
... of a damn cigarette.
But that could be the lack of sleep stabbing needles into my cranium.
Or both.
Cripes.
And then there's the situation at home with everyone's tempers fraying and frustration plus stress mounting as we get closer and closer to the moving date with no help or relief in sight. Which royally kills everything, even the urge to come home. *frowns*
And yet, above all this, the fact that a single young lady (ie. Maple) is not speaking to me in anyway is bothering me more than any of this. Even if I don't have my priorities right, it's still a matter of did I do or say something, or was she spooked? I don't know, honestly at a loss. *sighs* My neighbours, who're counsellors, think that I'm infatuated with Maple and I'm not inclined to disagree. It makes sense, if you stop and think about it. Why else would I be so bothered if she stopped talking to me, ey? *shrugs*
Bad mistake, then.
Perhaps.
However, I really do miss speaking with her, the long conversations and discussions. And she made think, like really think, exercising the grey matter, as it were. *looks skywards* Mister Gee, help a fella out, I need some really good luck here, please?
And to make it feel even stranger, one of the exes starts texting me again. Not that I mind, you understand. It's just that, well, she doesn't talk to me much, if at all, and then suddenly it's pop-goes-the-weasel-out-of-the-blue-jack-in-the-box. Like woah! It's nice, but then again...
It sometimes feel like a conspiracy to make me [or you, if you've ever gone through this yourself] lose our collective minds.
Well, gotta go, this crazy rollercoaster called Life™ never ends.
I'll catch y'all later on the upswing!
... of a damn cigarette.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
>>> When you get mad...
Figuratively speaking, obviously.
Though the thought of literally letting go is kind of tempting, in a twisted, oblivion-would-be-better kind of way.
*sigh*
I am not a weak person, but I cannot stand being continuously worn down by almost everything around me, especially by the parentals. The constant put-downs, belittling speech, sarcastic jokes, the yelling matches, they're all grinding my gears down to so much dust. Eventually I probably won't be able to move from sheer catatonia. I think that they need counselling even more than I do.
My mother seems to believe that I have wasted my life for nothing and that I should've been working for all powerful, ever so great government. Feh. Like they would hire me. I've been rejected so many times, and I really don't need to relive the failure and bitterness of not being hired by telling my mom, who doesn't realize that she would take a a bloody nice potshot at me in the form of a lecture about how much I have screwed up my life, if I told her.
I don't see why I should have to tell her anything at all, in the first place. I don't want to be set-up in a frame for getting voice-blasted to death.
YEESH.
I'm guilty of a great many sins, I'll be the first to admit, but I really, really do not deserve the treatment that I'm receiving from some people, some of whom are supposed to be my friends.
If you don't want to hang with or even talk to me, go ahead and bloody tell me. Hell, if you don't even want me in your life, say so. Be straight with me, even if it hurts, 'coz I'm straight with all of you. I don't deserve nor like to be bloody patronized; don't be nice to me for the sake of being nice, it's so damn hypocritical.
Furthermore, I'm not some plaything that you can pick up, use and then toss aside when you don't have a use for it anymore. I have feelings, too, and I don't take to being used & abused very easily. *glowers*
If you can't tolerate my presence for more than a few minutes, or want to pretend like I don't exist and ignore my sorry ass, go ahead and be my fucking guest. But have the gorram decency to TELL ME first, so I can get out of your fucking way. I don't care if it hurts, you just fucking tell me and I'll be gone. 'Coz that would be a helluva lot better than putting me through the grinder of cold shoulders and indifference that I seemed to be getting showered with right about now. Alright?
'Coz if you don't need or want me, I sure as hell can get along fine without you. Because, that's not even a friendship, it's like a sick game you play with a lost puppy. And I'm no lost puppy, thank you very much. Human being, with feelings, standing over here, hello!?
And I'm a Libran. For those who don't know, one of our great failings is that we don't like not getting along with everyone we meet [and we'd prefer it if everyone likes us, too]. We believe in compromise, balance and harmony, which probably drives us to insanity in trying to achieve.
So, I would rather get along with some people and have them truly like me for who I am, then to be patronized and toyed with. I've lived a bit and I've learnt that I don't need everyone around me to like me. Hell, I don't need that many people around me, either.
SO, you lot just have to say when and leave or stay as you want & wish.
That's all, honestly.
Thank you.
... it may just be time to let go.
Though the thought of literally letting go is kind of tempting, in a twisted, oblivion-would-be-better kind of way.
*sigh*
I am not a weak person, but I cannot stand being continuously worn down by almost everything around me, especially by the parentals. The constant put-downs, belittling speech, sarcastic jokes, the yelling matches, they're all grinding my gears down to so much dust. Eventually I probably won't be able to move from sheer catatonia. I think that they need counselling even more than I do.
My mother seems to believe that I have wasted my life for nothing and that I should've been working for all powerful, ever so great government. Feh. Like they would hire me. I've been rejected so many times, and I really don't need to relive the failure and bitterness of not being hired by telling my mom, who doesn't realize that she would take a a bloody nice potshot at me in the form of a lecture about how much I have screwed up my life, if I told her.
I don't see why I should have to tell her anything at all, in the first place. I don't want to be set-up in a frame for getting voice-blasted to death.
YEESH.
I'm guilty of a great many sins, I'll be the first to admit, but I really, really do not deserve the treatment that I'm receiving from some people, some of whom are supposed to be my friends.
If you don't want to hang with or even talk to me, go ahead and bloody tell me. Hell, if you don't even want me in your life, say so. Be straight with me, even if it hurts, 'coz I'm straight with all of you. I don't deserve nor like to be bloody patronized; don't be nice to me for the sake of being nice, it's so damn hypocritical.
Furthermore, I'm not some plaything that you can pick up, use and then toss aside when you don't have a use for it anymore. I have feelings, too, and I don't take to being used & abused very easily. *glowers*
If you can't tolerate my presence for more than a few minutes, or want to pretend like I don't exist and ignore my sorry ass, go ahead and be my fucking guest. But have the gorram decency to TELL ME first, so I can get out of your fucking way. I don't care if it hurts, you just fucking tell me and I'll be gone. 'Coz that would be a helluva lot better than putting me through the grinder of cold shoulders and indifference that I seemed to be getting showered with right about now. Alright?
'Coz if you don't need or want me, I sure as hell can get along fine without you. Because, that's not even a friendship, it's like a sick game you play with a lost puppy. And I'm no lost puppy, thank you very much. Human being, with feelings, standing over here, hello!?
And I'm a Libran. For those who don't know, one of our great failings is that we don't like not getting along with everyone we meet [and we'd prefer it if everyone likes us, too]. We believe in compromise, balance and harmony, which probably drives us to insanity in trying to achieve.
So, I would rather get along with some people and have them truly like me for who I am, then to be patronized and toyed with. I've lived a bit and I've learnt that I don't need everyone around me to like me. Hell, I don't need that many people around me, either.
SO, you lot just have to say when and leave or stay as you want & wish.
That's all, honestly.
Thank you.
... it may just be time to let go.
>>> Ghostly sounds...
Play both of these together, they complement each other in a rather strange way, it's just so [damn] beautiful.
And if anyone can, could you please mix both these songs together into a single track?
Thanks!
Peace.
... haunt my mind.
Friday, March 25, 2011
>>> Matters of the heart...
It's 4 in the morning and I'm still not asleep. Just read through about five years worth of Red String comic pages as it was a really riveting read. If you're into slice-of-life romantic-type mangas, you should definitely check it out. And it's FREE.
And reading it made me realize that sometimes, no matter how much you may love a person or if a part of you still loves someone, your heart has the capacity for so much more. So much so, it may seem that the heart is such a fickle thing.
Having to move on bites. It does, I won't lie to you. The memories will always be there, the love will always remain, the affection and everything else lingers on in your bloodstream, and it will always follow you. Sometimes it's a matter of acceptance, often times of time & healing. But you may sometimes feel guilt and treasonous when your heart turns to another, like you're betraying the love that you have for that one from past.
I'm not sure if it's momentary, I'm not sure if it's rare, but I do know that it does happen.
You'll eventually come to terms with the feelings rolling around inside and may even find someone who understands you... or someone who will give you what you need. The love, affection, support and dependability that you deserve, like you give unconditionally in the first place.
The only thing one can do in the meantime is take things slow and try to keep your head up above the waves.
And perhaps pray for a miracle of some kind.
*laughs softly*
Love is a miracle all by itself.
I wish you all much happiness.
And I pray for all of us.
Peace.
... are ever so complicated.
And reading it made me realize that sometimes, no matter how much you may love a person or if a part of you still loves someone, your heart has the capacity for so much more. So much so, it may seem that the heart is such a fickle thing.
Having to move on bites. It does, I won't lie to you. The memories will always be there, the love will always remain, the affection and everything else lingers on in your bloodstream, and it will always follow you. Sometimes it's a matter of acceptance, often times of time & healing. But you may sometimes feel guilt and treasonous when your heart turns to another, like you're betraying the love that you have for that one from past.
I'm not sure if it's momentary, I'm not sure if it's rare, but I do know that it does happen.
You'll eventually come to terms with the feelings rolling around inside and may even find someone who understands you... or someone who will give you what you need. The love, affection, support and dependability that you deserve, like you give unconditionally in the first place.
The only thing one can do in the meantime is take things slow and try to keep your head up above the waves.
And perhaps pray for a miracle of some kind.
*laughs softly*
Love is a miracle all by itself.
I wish you all much happiness.
And I pray for all of us.
Peace.
... are ever so complicated.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
>>> Let the sleeping dogs lie...
Things change.
They always do.
So take your time to adapt, don't rush. There's nothing to be gained by rushing into change. Except perhaps a migraine and a ton of stress.
Then you'd need a bottle of the good stuff.
And if people want to ignore you, being cold like the frozen tundra, you don't really need 'em, now do you? But then again, maybe they need some space, so you should leave them to it and see what happens. *shrugs* Que sera sera?
Cross your fingers and hope for the best, I suppose. 'Specially since a'most more than 50% of life is beyond any person's control and completely up to the Fates [or God(s), if it makes you feel better].
There's only so much you can fight before you feel that it's all pointless and beyond tiring. Then, all you'd want is to curl up and sleep like the dead, ignoring the whole world even if a nuclear winter enveloped it in a storm of irradiated ash and dust.
Trudge on down the path, hack down the thorns, embrace the pain when the waylaying gets you, take it, let it fuel your dragging feet, kick up the dust behind you, burn the bridges that you cross and basically be a bad-ass till you get home.
And don't ever blog after taking heavy meds and/or some alcohol.
We love you all!
*HIC!*
Now, fug off.
Please.
*HOC!*
<3
... and try not to be a jumpy fox.
They always do.
So take your time to adapt, don't rush. There's nothing to be gained by rushing into change. Except perhaps a migraine and a ton of stress.
Then you'd need a bottle of the good stuff.
And if people want to ignore you, being cold like the frozen tundra, you don't really need 'em, now do you? But then again, maybe they need some space, so you should leave them to it and see what happens. *shrugs* Que sera sera?
Cross your fingers and hope for the best, I suppose. 'Specially since a'most more than 50% of life is beyond any person's control and completely up to the Fates [or God(s), if it makes you feel better].
There's only so much you can fight before you feel that it's all pointless and beyond tiring. Then, all you'd want is to curl up and sleep like the dead, ignoring the whole world even if a nuclear winter enveloped it in a storm of irradiated ash and dust.
Trudge on down the path, hack down the thorns, embrace the pain when the waylaying gets you, take it, let it fuel your dragging feet, kick up the dust behind you, burn the bridges that you cross and basically be a bad-ass till you get home.
And don't ever blog after taking heavy meds and/or some alcohol.
We love you all!
*HIC!*
Now, fug off.
Please.
*HOC!*
<3
... and try not to be a jumpy fox.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
>>> The future isn't exactly impossible...
Perhaps.
So, this morning, with much anxiety and fear held like a ball waiting to explode inside my chest, I went to see Purple, to tell her how I felt and still feel about her.
No, I didn't ask her to "patch up" and get back together.
It's like I said a while ago, sometimes you just settle for second-best and hang in there. She was really cool about it, heard me out without freaking out. I'm not sure if she still has feelings for me, but I sense that there's something there. BUT, I'm not pushing it, she and I will remain friends, and hopefully we hang out more often and just chill coz that's what I miss the most now. Well, kind of. *shrugs*
It may be awkward, but it's what we can have for now, so I'm just grateful for that.
Who knows? Maybe things will change or shift. One never knows. *a hopeful look skywards* Help me out here, Big Gee!
Now, I just have to deal with always wanting to just hold her when I see or I'm around her. *sigh*
The future isn't impossible.
Hold on to your hopes, keep the faith, dream big, and reach for what you want!
And, while you're at it, pray for me.
Thanks.
... so perhaps there is hope.
So, this morning, with much anxiety and fear held like a ball waiting to explode inside my chest, I went to see Purple, to tell her how I felt and still feel about her.
No, I didn't ask her to "patch up" and get back together.
It's like I said a while ago, sometimes you just settle for second-best and hang in there. She was really cool about it, heard me out without freaking out. I'm not sure if she still has feelings for me, but I sense that there's something there. BUT, I'm not pushing it, she and I will remain friends, and hopefully we hang out more often and just chill coz that's what I miss the most now. Well, kind of. *shrugs*
It may be awkward, but it's what we can have for now, so I'm just grateful for that.
Who knows? Maybe things will change or shift. One never knows. *a hopeful look skywards* Help me out here, Big Gee!
Now, I just have to deal with always wanting to just hold her when I see or I'm around her. *sigh*
The future isn't impossible.
Hold on to your hopes, keep the faith, dream big, and reach for what you want!
And, while you're at it, pray for me.
Thanks.
... so perhaps there is hope.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
>>> The sun rises in the east...
It's hard not to want to head out to Japan and volunteer to help. Especially when a friend or two are in Japan and there is so much information pouring out of the region that it's a near overload and seemingly almost vague.
But then again, I've been pretty known to want to help people, so it may just be in my nature to want to volunteer and, basically, help.
That being said, anyone know where I sign up to volunteer and whatnot?
*awkward silence*
Carrying on...
And I really cannot believe the absolute shite that is coming out of people from so many places over "crimes and atrocities committed by Japan" from over half a century ago!
I mean, seriously, what is wrong with you lot!?
The PEOPLE responsible for all of that are long gone and so much dust. You cannot hold an entire nation responsible for the actions of a few, especially from over 60 years ago! Because if that's the case, we should be making Germany suffer for everything they did during the Second World War and through the Cold War, for fuck's sake.
So, what if their military during World War II bombed the living bejeezus out of Pearl Harbour? They struck mostly military targets.
And even with all the vileness that the Japanese Imperial Army perpetrated during their Occupation, you don't see many of us Asians saying that they deserve it for their "past crimes".
For Christ's sake, the Yanks dropped not one but TWO atomic bombs on civilian-filled cities. AND then crippled them economically with the peace treaties. That outdoes what happened at Pearl Harbour and more than makes up for it. Many Japanese feel shame for it enough as it is.
BOTTOM LINE: The Japanese are PEOPLE and deserve our sympathies. I really do not think that they were celebrating and all "thats-what-you-deserve" when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans and its surrounds, do you? Maybe the Taliban were in their caves, but I higly doubt that the Japanese were celebrating in their homes.
GIVE 'EM A BREAK AND SHARE YOUR HEARTS, PEOPLE.
Do something to make a difference.
GO!
... and prayers & hearts go out to Japan in their time of crisis.
But then again, I've been pretty known to want to help people, so it may just be in my nature to want to volunteer and, basically, help.
That being said, anyone know where I sign up to volunteer and whatnot?
*awkward silence*
Carrying on...
And I really cannot believe the absolute shite that is coming out of people from so many places over "crimes and atrocities committed by Japan" from over half a century ago!
I mean, seriously, what is wrong with you lot!?
The PEOPLE responsible for all of that are long gone and so much dust. You cannot hold an entire nation responsible for the actions of a few, especially from over 60 years ago! Because if that's the case, we should be making Germany suffer for everything they did during the Second World War and through the Cold War, for fuck's sake.
So, what if their military during World War II bombed the living bejeezus out of Pearl Harbour? They struck mostly military targets.
And even with all the vileness that the Japanese Imperial Army perpetrated during their Occupation, you don't see many of us Asians saying that they deserve it for their "past crimes".
For Christ's sake, the Yanks dropped not one but TWO atomic bombs on civilian-filled cities. AND then crippled them economically with the peace treaties. That outdoes what happened at Pearl Harbour and more than makes up for it. Many Japanese feel shame for it enough as it is.
BOTTOM LINE: The Japanese are PEOPLE and deserve our sympathies. I really do not think that they were celebrating and all "thats-what-you-deserve" when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans and its surrounds, do you? Maybe the Taliban were in their caves, but I higly doubt that the Japanese were celebrating in their homes.
GIVE 'EM A BREAK AND SHARE YOUR HEARTS, PEOPLE.
Do something to make a difference.
GO!
... and prayers & hearts go out to Japan in their time of crisis.
Monday, March 14, 2011
>>> Simplicity borne...
Yet again, my brain works through weird patterns and creates something out of just the line "Can't shake the misery, I need a stiff drink tonight", which came off of Twitter, of all places.
*laughs*
Inspiration comes from all kinds of places, doesn't it?
This took me almost a week to complete its creation, and it's such a monster. One that I'm rather proud of. (I feel like such a proud mad scientist! *laughs*) Now to scribe sheets of notes and weave magic to create its dissonant melody.
A Bombshell in Parliament
:: (A Stiff Drink) Tonight ::
"Oh, baby,
I can’t shake the misery,
I need a stiff drink tonight
(Tonight, tonight, tonight).
It’s killing
It's killing me
It’s killing me
It’s killing me inside that
you don’t care at all (anymore).
It’s tearing me up inside that
I can’t say I miss you.
So, let's get drunk tonight
And will you take me home?
(Take me, take me home tonight.)
So, let's get high tonight
And will you follow me home?
(Follow me, follow me home tonight.)
Oh, baby,
I can’t shake the misery,
I need a stiff drink tonight
So, let's get high and drunk
(Tonight, tonight, tonight).
Empty beds make for empty heads,
No dreams as the darkness screams.
Tell me, baby, is this what you wanted?
To leave us alone and so haunted?
(Tell me!)
It’s killing
It's killing me
It’s killing me
It’s killing me inside that
you don’t care at all (anymore).
It’s tearing me up inside that
I can’t say I love you.
So, let's get drunk and
will you take me home?
(Take me, take me home.)
So, let's get high and
will you follow me home?
(Follow me, follow me home.)
Oh, baby,
I can’t shake the misery,
I need a stiff drink tonight
So, let's get high and drunk
(Tonight, tonight, tonight).
So, let's get drunk and
will you take me home?
(Take me, take me home.)
So, let's get high and
will you follow me home?
(Follow me, follow me home.)
Oh, baby,
I can’t shake the misery,
I need a stiff drink tonight
So, let's get high and drunk
(Tonight, tonight, tonight)."
After all, we all could use a stiff drink.
Have a good one, mates!
... of heartaches and heavy drinking.
*laughs*
Inspiration comes from all kinds of places, doesn't it?
This took me almost a week to complete its creation, and it's such a monster. One that I'm rather proud of. (I feel like such a proud mad scientist! *laughs*) Now to scribe sheets of notes and weave magic to create its dissonant melody.
A Bombshell in Parliament
:: (A Stiff Drink) Tonight ::
"Oh, baby,
I can’t shake the misery,
I need a stiff drink tonight
(Tonight, tonight, tonight).
It’s killing
It's killing me
It’s killing me
It’s killing me inside that
you don’t care at all (anymore).
It’s tearing me up inside that
I can’t say I miss you.
So, let's get drunk tonight
And will you take me home?
(Take me, take me home tonight.)
So, let's get high tonight
And will you follow me home?
(Follow me, follow me home tonight.)
Oh, baby,
I can’t shake the misery,
I need a stiff drink tonight
So, let's get high and drunk
(Tonight, tonight, tonight).
Empty beds make for empty heads,
No dreams as the darkness screams.
Tell me, baby, is this what you wanted?
To leave us alone and so haunted?
(Tell me!)
It’s killing
It's killing me
It’s killing me
It’s killing me inside that
you don’t care at all (anymore).
It’s tearing me up inside that
I can’t say I love you.
So, let's get drunk and
will you take me home?
(Take me, take me home.)
So, let's get high and
will you follow me home?
(Follow me, follow me home.)
Oh, baby,
I can’t shake the misery,
I need a stiff drink tonight
So, let's get high and drunk
(Tonight, tonight, tonight).
So, let's get drunk and
will you take me home?
(Take me, take me home.)
So, let's get high and
will you follow me home?
(Follow me, follow me home.)
Oh, baby,
I can’t shake the misery,
I need a stiff drink tonight
So, let's get high and drunk
(Tonight, tonight, tonight)."
After all, we all could use a stiff drink.
Have a good one, mates!
... of heartaches and heavy drinking.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)