>>> 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.

>>> 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?

>>> 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!

>>> 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.

>>> 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.

>>> 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.

>>> 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.

>>> 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.

>>> 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.

>>> 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.

>>> Moving on...

... is the only option left.

What else can one do?

There's no chance of anything else happening, no other paths to take. Just the one ahead of me, shrouded in the dark of lengthened shadows. I'll walk it, I have no choice. The path is shrouded in darkness and hidden barbs, and to it is one chained.

Walk on, walk tall and give as good as you take.

Brighteyes will always be the only exception that I've ever made or had, in a number of ways. The exception, not the rule. She can choose to believe it or not, but it's the truth of the matter.

I have loved and been loved. The cycle goes on as I walk on into the dark. Someday, I'll walk out into the sunlight again.

One chapter ends, another begins and the quill keeps moving across the pages.

Yes, all one can do is move on as time passes.

And all we have is time.

>>> I am..

... who I am.

I make no apologies for that.

I dress the way I do coz I'm comfortable with it. I don't aim to look like anyone else other than myself. I refuse to follow any current style or trend, it's just not me.

I just do what feels right to me at the time.

So, yeah, I'm just me and dress like me in my own style.

I'm flawed, but who isn't it? I know that I'm not perfect, but who is? Perfection does not exist, it's just a concept and it's open to interpretation and perception. So, that being said, I'm just fine the way I am, perfect in my imperfection.

Life can always improve, so can one's self. So, I'll just aim to get better and try to move to make my life better at the same time.

And all we have is time.

I am who I am, you are who you are, make no apologies and take no flak for it.

Peace.

>>> As we dream...

... so do we die. Alone.

It's true, isn't it?

The chances of having the same dream as another is astronomically low; and usually if a group or individuals have the same dream, it's because they're in exceptionally close proximity or they're on the same mental wavelength with the same subject in mind.

Other than that... well, it would take a miracle.

Plus, it would be rather creepy since sharing a dream, which in essence is a private affair, at the same time, feels rather violating and invasive to some degree.

Regardless of how "cool" the concept is.

So, having our dreams alone, in the sanctity of our own minds and subconscious, is similar to living out our lives. We go through it alone, as individuals, and at the end of the day, whether in a partnership, a unit or a collective, we still die.

On.

Our.

Own.

Alone.

Singly.

Individually.

We take no one else with us unless we die a death of blood, screams and violence.

So, that being said...

... live your life to the fullest possible and dream as big and vividly as you can!

>>> Sadly at work...

... alone and hungover.

When you miss someone, it is often difficult to distract yourself. Even more so when love songs and ballads are being played or performed in your immediate vicinity.

It just stokes the fires of that "hunger", if you know what I'm getting at.

Human emotions. Easily played by various factors.

Go figure.

*shrug*

>>> Crazy stuff...

... keeps happening.

And I wonder what on Earth did I do to deserve it?

I mean, seriously, like WHAT??

Getting beaten up by someone is already a really disturbing and damaging event. Having it happen to you in your own home is downright insulting and a killer in a psychological sense; after all, it's your home which means that you're supposed to be safe.

When one of your own best friends beats you down in your home, that's just traumatizing.

No one has the bloody right to harm another, even out of anger or whatever, regardless of whether you're in any kind of relationship with another. (War is a completely different matter altogether, but still not quite right.)

Especially on your own home turf.

Even if one made a huge mistake and offended the other party, whether on purpose or by accident, it does not warrant a beating or any kind of physical abuse/harm. And even if the other doesn't want to accept the apologies, reasons and/or circumstances, has their own ideas of everything that has occurred and/or does not wish to believe whatever that has been brought forth... well, IT'S STILL NOT RIGHT.

I'm sorry, but it's just WRONG, no matter how you look at it.

That's it, end of story, period.

Feth me, what a life.

-____-'''

>>> Thinking...

... and still thinking.

She will never be just a fond memory...

I don't know how to explain it, but suffice to say that she will always be more that that. There are so many things that I want to say to her, but can't since it doesn't seem to ever be the right time for it. Maybe someday soon, the time will be right.

I don't know, it's all in God's hands. I know who I love, and that's that.

*exhales a stream of smoke*

Well, I'll leave you with a random laidback, slow-paced music video that I came across earlier.

Laters, peeps.

>>> Being hated...

... is something that anyone can live with.

Even if it's a negative emotion to deal with, especially when directed by others at one's self. At least, it's someone admitting, in a twisted sense, that you actually exist.

But indifference...

... Indifference is a completely different matter.

It implies a position of uncaring-, unfeeling- and altogether unbothered-ness towards another being. Now, when having indifference directed at yourself, it can bloody hurt. Emotionally, mentally and psychologically damaging is the act of indifference. Honestly, it is. It leaves the victim feeling unimportant, insignificant and non-existent. To sum it up in one word, meaningless.

Being ignored is but the first step along the path of indifference, and, by then, it's already too late. There's nothing that one can do to stop that slide.

Indifference kills as slowly and surely as a slow-burning cigarette stuck in a barrel of petrol.

It is a potent weapon in anyone's arsenal, to cause grievous harm to another, regardless of the situation. And a firm favourite of the ladies on this world, even if they don't realize it.

Please, people, abstain from using this tactic as much as possible. Remember that karma bites and that we're all human. Consider others' feelings.

Thank you.

And we end today's post with this message which I think is kinda funny and not really related:

"The subscriber that you are trying to reach is currently busy losing his mind. Please try again later."

>>> The sky's so blue...

... and the clouds are like wisps of cotton candy.

It's amazing, considering how crazy the weather has been. It's a truly beautiful day. The kind that's good for laundry and for good men & women to pass away peacefully. I found myself looking up at the sky with a cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of my mouth and just staring at the expanse of the bright blue that stretched up, out and away.

Also discovered that I was thinking how nice it would be to just let go of this mortal shell and let the spirit climb and climb into that clear sky, to rise above the clouds and see the radiant glory of the sun. It really does feel like a good day to die...

... and then I was thinking of washing my laundry because I'm running out of boxers again. *sigh* But, what do you expect when you only have 5 boxers left from the dozen or so that you originally had?

Oh, well. *shrugs with hands spread*

And then I saw this really big bubble, floating on the wind across the field. It went so far but then I think it hit a tree and burst, which I find so sad. Such a real life metaphor: you travel so far, you go with the flow of things, think that everything is alright and getting better but then your "bubble" hits something and it pops like a weasel, dashing your plans, your thoughts & ideas and your life at that moment.

But it was a really pretty bubble.

*sigh*

Truly a beautiful day.

*deeper sigh*

>>> Some people...

... only realise what they have when they've lost it.

... never realize what they've lost at all.

... believe themselves so righteous in their actions that reason escapes them.

... suffer greatly from the mistakes of others, even though they are bystanders.

... like to play games with people, beyond what is right.

... are stubborn beyond all rhyme and reason.

... instinctively run away from problems that they believe they cannot face.

... never stop running their whole life.

... are great teasers that keep you wanting more while keeping you at arm's length.

... run into their loved ones' arms and stay there.

... hate everything and everyone around them.

... love solitude.

... don't like being alone for very long.

... have great advice for others, but may sometimes need help themselves.

... try to be something that they really aren't.

... put on a facade for the whole world to see, and tear it off when at home or alone with tears running down their face.

... have issues, but doesn't everyone to some degree?

... always try to do what's right even if it would kill them.

... are not most people and refuse to conform to the mainstream.

... are just crazy.

... like to play with others' hearts and bodies.

... are hilarious with a great sense of humour.

... feel that they cannot move on and wallow in misery.

... take their misery and turn it into anger to fuel their forward movement.

... remember the good things, forgive and keep going with hope in their chest.

... are looking for a greater meaning or purpose in life.

... just love unconditionally.

... are thrown aside at whim.

... pick themselves up and keep going.

... just stay down in the dirt.

... are creative and artistic, to some degree.

... have wild and beautiful imaginations.

... have talent.

... work very hard.

... will never ever read this list that will go on and on if I do not stop here.

So...

... Which ones are YOU?

Or would you like to add on some others?

>>> Upon stormy seas...

... do we all sail.

If Love be a turbulent sea of storm-tossed waves and dark, low-hanging clouds wreathed in the sharp daggers of lightning and banks of rolling, rumbling thunder, then the ones whom we love are islands of calm in the tumult and their open arms safe harbours to wait out the passing storms.

While those that mean us harm are akin to jagged rocks lying just beneath the surface, awaiting their chance to dash the ships of our journey upon their deadly teeth, to consign us to the gloomy depths of misery and sorrow.

Be not the dangerous rocks, my friends.

Be the islands of calm.

^LDSH