Merry Christmas.

brb fiji

Glimpse

Rumpled sheets and body heat,
smooth skin and silk.
Fulfillment in flesh and flame,
within you.
White-hot need,
within me.
I am drunk with desire, desperate with it.
Hand down your spine, grip in my hair.
Contact, lips locked in a twisted smile.
Yours.
Mine.
Possession and surrender in a blurred union.
Do you feel the resonance, the harmony?
Our heartbeats as one, our fires as one,
our lust,
our desires,
as one.
One.
Whole.
Pressure and power and in that white-hot moment,
something more, greater than the sum
of us,
the parts.
Bliss, in that glimpse.
Come.
We have walked in the shadow too long,
Let our bodies lead us to the light,
Our union guiding the way,
to the moment when we will be strangers no more,
walking the path to the glimpse,
as one.
Fulfillment in flesh and flame,
White-hot need,
Locked lips and passionate hearts,
and bliss, in the glimpse.
Our bodies guiding the way.
There is nothing to fear.

For I am you, and we are not afraid.

Physical Abuse and Side-Effects

I got physically assaulted this evening by representatives of a society that is making every attempt to annihilate me off the face of this planet for my sexual orientation, and am sitting here hating myself for falling for heterosexuals and coming to the conclusion that I am never going to find someone to be happy with.
So I'm going to deconstruct these feelings in this blog post and thus feel better about them.

Kind of silly, really. We were down at a big park and one of them recognised me from high school. Did the whole "Oh no, get away from me" spiel. Like I was contagious. Ignored him, walked past. Saw his shadow loom up behind me. Didn't bother retaliating, just felt sad about the whole thing. I knew what was coming, and sure enough, I ended up having a fist swung into my gut. Knocked the air clean out of me. Didn't feel angry at all, only sad. And winded, of course.
Now, to deconstruct my original thought trail.

These people do not represent your society.
Hell, everyone in the group was prepared to kick the living shit out of them in retaliation. Lay actually went haring off after the guy as soon as she noticed I was on the ground. Ben had his knife out, for godsakes. For every person that wants to kick you until you pass out, there is one who will defend you to the death. Do try and remember that before you think that the entire society you live in is represented by these cretins.

Society is not out to get you.
Compared to how your kind (god, like I'm a species) has been treated in days past, you have it easy. You have no right to complain of injustice. You probably shouldn't have been in the area anyway, despite the fact that you live in suburban Canberra. The simple fact is, there are some people around which you are not safe, but you shouldn't feel in danger if you're sensible about it - and most of the time you don't, do you?

You can't help how you feel.
You're usually pretty good about this whole thing - feelings for those who will never return them is a fact of life, not just of homosexuality, and you've had to deal with your fair share - but it is ludicrous to hold yourself responsible for falling for people who won't fall for you. It isn't something you can control, and that one time you tried to, it ended badly. Let it go.

You are happy with people now - being in a relationship wouldn't alter that.
Yeah, I know what you meant. You want someone to love and hold and 'be with'. I get that. But you're with people - many, many people - who make you happy every day. You need to remember and appreciate that more. Just because you're not romantically entangled does not mean you're alone.

Right, I feel better! Now to make me a sandwich!

Death and the Philosopher

I have just discovered Stumbleupon and am going to have to resist posting a billion, billion things from the site on this blog. But I have to share this one.

When Death met the philosopher, the philosopher said, rather excitedly: "At this point, you realise, I'm both dead and not dead."

There was a sigh from Death. Oh dear, one of those, he thought. This is going to be about quantum again. He hated dealing with philosophers. They always tried to wriggle out of it.

"You see," said the philosopher, while Death, motionless, watched the sands of his life drain through the hourglass, "everything is made of tiny particles, which have the strange property of being in many places at one time. But things made of tiny particles tend to stay in one place at one time, which does not seem right according to quantum theory. May I continue?"

YES, BUT NOT INDEFINITELY, said Death, EVERYTHING IS TRANSIENT. He did not take his gaze away from the tumbling sand.

"Well, then, if we agreed that there are an infinite number of universes, then the problem is solved! If there are an unlimited number of universes, this bed can be in millions of them, all at the same time!"

DOES IT MOVE?

"What?

Death nodded at the bed. CAN YOU FEEL IT MOVING? he said.

"No, because there are a million versions of me, too, And...here is the good bit ...in some of them I am not about to pass away! Anything is possible!"

Death tapped the handle of his scythe as he considered this.

AND YOUR POINT IS...?

"Well, I'm not exactly dying, correct? You are no longer such a certainty."

There was a sigh from Death. Space he thought. That was the trouble. It was never like this on worlds with everlastingly cloudy skies. But once humans saw all that space, their brains expanded to try and fill it up.

"No answer, eh?" said the dying philosopher. "Feel a bit old-fashioned, do we?"

THIS IS A CONUNDRUM CERTAINLY, said Death. Once they prayed, he thought. Mind you, he'd never been sure that prayer worked, either. He thought for a while. AND I SHALL ANSWER IT IN THIS MANNER, he added. YOU LOVE YOUR WIFE?

"What?"

THE LADY WHO HAS BEEN LOOKING AFTER YOU. YOU LOVE HER?

"Yes. Of course."

CAN YOU THINK OF ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WHERE, WITHOUT YOUR PERSONAL HISTORY CHANGING IN ANY WAY YOU WOULD AT THIS MOMENT PICK UP A KNIFE AND STAB HER? said Death. FOR EXAMPLE?

"Certainly not!"

BUT YOUR THEORY SAYS THAT YOU MUST. IT IS EASILY POSSIBLE WITHIN THE PHYSICAL LAWS OF THE UNIVERSE, AND THEREFORE MUST HAPPEN, AND HAPPEN MANY TIMES. EVERY MOMENT IS A BILLION, BILLION MOMENTS, AND IN THOSE MOMENTS ALL THINGS THAT ARE POSSIBLE ARE INEVITABLE. ALL TIME SOONER OR LATER, BOILS DOWN TO A MOMENT.

"But of course we can make choices between-"

ARE THERE CHOICES? EVERYTHING THAT CAN HAPPEN, MUST HAPPEN. YOUR THEORY SAYS THAT FOR EVERY UNIVERSE THAT'S FORMED TO ACCOMMODATE YOUR 'NO', THERE MUST BE ONE TO ACCOMMODATE YOUR 'YES'. BUT YOU SAID YOU WOULD NEVER COMMIT MURDER. THE FABRIC OF THE COSMOS TREMBLES BEFORE YOUR TERRIBLE CERTAINTY. YOUR MORALITY BECOMES A FORCE AS STRONG AS GRAVITY. And, thought Death, space certainly has a lot to answer for.

"Was that sarcasm?"

ACTUALLY, NO. I AM IMPRESSED AND INTRIGUED, said Death. THE CONCEPT YOU PUT BEFORE ME PROVES THE EXISTENCE OF TWO HITHERTO MYTHICAL PLACES. SOMEWHERE, THERE IS A WORLD WHERE EVERYONE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, THE MORAL CHOICE, THE CHOICE THAT MAXIMISED THE HAPPINESS OF THEIR FELLOW CREATURES, OF COURSE, THAT ALSO MEANS THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE IS THE SMOKING REMNANT OF THE WORLD WHERE THEY DID NOT ...

"Oh, come on! I know what you're implying, and I've never believed in any of that Heaven and Hell nonsense!"

The room was growing darker. The blue gleam along the edge of the reaper's scythe was becoming more obvious.

ASTONISHING, said Death. REALLY ASTONISHING. LET ME PUT FORWARD ANOTHER SUGGESTION: THAT YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A LUCKY SPECIES OF APE THAT IS TRYING TO UNDERSTAND THE COMPLEXITIES OF CREATION VIA A LANGUAGE THAT EVOLVED IN ORDER TO TELL ONE ANOTHER WHERE THE RIPE FRUIT WAS?

Fighting for breath, the philosopher managed to say: "Don't be silly."

THE REMARK WAS NOT INTENDED AS DEROGATORY, said Death. UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, YOU HAVE ACHIEVED A GREAT DEAL.

"We've certainly escaped from outmoded superstitions!"

WELL DONE, said Death. THAT'S THE SPIRIT. I JUST WANTED TO CHECK.

He leaned forward.

AND ARE YOU AWARE OF THE THEORY THAT THE STATE OF SOME TINY PARTICLES IS INDETERMINATE UNTIL THE MOMENT THEY ARE OBSERVED? A CAT IN A BOX IS OFTEN MENTIONED.

"Oh, yes," said the philosopher.

GOOD, said Death. He got to his feet as the last of the light died, and smiled.

I SEE YOU...

A.D - The Butterfly Effect

I don't often post stuff writen by other people up here, but these lyrics are fantastic and I want to remember them for later.

After
The ones who wait
For judgment
To befall them
And deserved are we
That need no judgment
Fear nothing
But nothing itself
Find faith in yourselves
For you're all Gods
All of you
Within yourselves
In this
The year
We pray
And after the wooden icons have infested your mind
Ground your feet
And all that is real
And bare the scars
of all your convictions
Wear them
Yourself
The proud
The standalones
Do, do not ask forgiveness from the icon
Ask it from yourselves

Sickness beginning
Lies continuing
Story and fable
See-through not able

Its cold and dry
As I am to design the sea
That blinds me behind me
But nothing is left of me
Hide behind as I decide
For the end of time
We will be
So as I find my eye itself
It's jealousy
The evolution would be
But nothing is left to see
What I decide
Give time
To the end of time
When I would be left to see

More to the meaning
Forbidden you feel me
I'm broken and freezing
Exhausted from breathing
The weakness beginning
Try and believe it
No more
We believe you

I'm not like you
Go and be gone
you betrayed my trust

Lies all lies all lies all lies
If you stay
You feel without feeling
All is lost

Of Extinguished Stars

As I was gazing at the stars,
in the silence of the evening,
I began to muse.
As is the penchant
of gazers.
As I looked upwards
at the cold light, frost's fire,
I remembered a phrase
that soured my gaze
and left me chilled.

"Every star that we see,
in the sky so bright and clear,
shining with hope to light the night,
is dead.
Gone.
The light we see is late!
Thousands
and thousands of years late.
We see the light of vanquished giants,
of souls long past.
The plea of passed, forgotten ghosts,
now nothing."

I mused on all the stars I saw,
hanging above, aloft, serene,
and mused.
Upon the planets that they snared,
Upon the worlds that flourished there,
Upon the dead, the lost, the gone,
the Nothing.
And reflected that the light I saw was merely a marker.
A gravestone.
And all that ever existed there
was Nothing.
And the weight of the weightless stars,
so beautiful, so beautiful,
began to crush me.

And in my anguish I fixed my gaze,
my torn gaze,
upon the spaces between the stars.
Where nothing shone.
And I envisioned the stars,
that no doubt were there
aloft in the void.
And I envisioned the ones,
that would be.
Which star would see our star,
I wondered.
Which star that had not yet come to be,
thousands of years in the future,
would support the life that would turn an eye to the heavens,
and ruminate on the light of a forgotten star
that once supported me
and now is returned to the inky black,
the void that bore it,
and is Nothing.
As I would be.

And as this icy conviction took hold,
and as I mourned for eventual destruction,
my gaze,
my torn gaze,
was drawn anew.
Back to the star I behold at the first,
and dreamt of long forgotton worlds,
it had moved.
It was not a star at all,
It was a satillite.
Drifting in our orbit, serene, aloft.
With a purpose I was not to know,
or to care.
But purpose.
Beaming down information to a living, breathing world,
in the eternal orbit around the heart,
careless of the vanquished suns.
And I laughed,
and laughed,
and laughed.

Mental Invasion

O-kay...
I'm not sure that I like the fact that my blog has become a controversial spot to hang out over the past few days. Don't get me wrong - I'm loving all your kind compliments about my writings - despite the fact that praise makes me uncomfortable, like everyone I enjoy it. But this blog is primarily to house my writings for me, not for entertainment or amusement of others. So I think I'm going to lean away from 'hot topics' like 512 for a little while and turn my brain back towards the old pursuits - fiction and such.
The following is a little piece I wrote a few weeks ago. I hope, if you are reading this, that you enjoy it - but remember, I didn't write it for you to enjoy, I wrote it for me. Just like everything else on this blog.

I can fight you.

I’m well aware of your ability – in fact, it is what makes the prospect so attractive. You have the potential to become my perfect enemy. In fact, it is your right to do so.

You’ve started this battle – this war – unintentionally, I know. I believe your motives in the beginning were pure. No, in fact, there were no motivations in the beginning. I don’t even think you deigned to notice me. The opening of hostilities was completely unnoticed by you.

That doesn’t change the fact that it was you who opened them, whether or not you knew. You invaded, not I. At first, I took it as innocent – trespass, certainly – but in due time I realised you were an occupying force.

Again, at first I assumed I had done something or was somehow to blame for this invasion. I refused to believe that you had any intention of being a threat, of visiting harm upon me. That’s certainly changed. But, in the beginning, I extended the olive branch of peace. You were a reasonable tenant for a while – you took up a lot of room, but you left me able to get on with other things around you. For a time, I was content with the arrangements.

Then, of course, the unpleasantness began when I decided to remove you. To this day, I’m not sure why I was driven to this. Perhaps the distraction you presented from my other tasks was too great. Perhaps your vocal complaints were silenced too rarely by a personal visit. Whatever the reasoning, I attempted to remove you from the territory you had claimed – my thoughts – by removing you from my life physically.

Unbeknownst to me though, you took very little time in fortifying your position. You lay low, and I thought you exorcised entirely from my domain. More fool me.

When circumstances allowed, you made your presence known with a great flame and a riotous noise. You swept across me like wildfire – caught unprepared, I was powerless to act. You consumed as much space as you had previously occupied, perhaps even slightly more. But gone was your peaceful cohabitation. You were an active militia, hunting down my thought trail at every opportunity and ruthlessly turning it to your own ends. You were unstoppable.

For a long time I was your slave. I’m not ashamed to admit the truth of that. You commanded my thought effortlessly, and my body was powerless to resist it. As I said, I’m well aware of your ability.

I broke free though, didn’t I? I don’t think either of us were expecting that. Your physical actions drove me to it, in the end. Another weak invader sought to take your place, but you drove him out swiftly – but I became aware of your methods for myself and in a wild state cut off all communication with you. Without fresh input, your occupying force in my mind faltered and died. I was free.

But I was also alone.

I reopened communication with you after a long break. I am prepared now, as fortified in my own mind as anyone can be, strong and confident and sure of my ability to, if not win this war, at least fight it.

We’re both fighting on familiar ground – I’ve lived in this mind for almost eighteen years now, but you cracked it open and bent it to your will utterly in a few short months. The territory is, as they say, no man’s land. There is no advantage here, but there will be no quarter either.

I can fight you, and I can feel that familiar fire again while I do it.

D.

Today's artwork is called Venser's Diffusion, by Hideaki Takamura.

Project 512

Enough is enough.
That's all I can really say on the matter to begin with. Enough is enough. We've indulged this rampant idiocy for too long, and now I'm going to speak out against it. I know that I'm not the only one who has this view on the matter - I am really just setting out the thoughts of many, but at the same time I believe a coherent counterargument needs to be formed, because matters are getting out of hand.
Warning: I plan on being fairly brutal. If you're an advocate of Project 512, you probably have a thin skin, so I'd advise you not to read this. However, if you are an advocate of Project 512, you're probably too self-righteous to heed this advice, so continue at your peril.

What the hell is Project 512?: This bit I'll explain without bias, because there are probably a few people here who don't know what I'm talking about. I can't actually find an official description on the site - but the gist of it is this. Project 512 is a website that is moderated by young adults and targeted at combating depression, anxiety, bullying - basically any problem that affects teenagers. You basically log on, find the forum that describes your particular issue, write about it, and other users respond. There is merchandise, donation options, that sort of thing.

Now I'm going to present my arguments as to exactly why Project 512 is a terrible, terrible thing and why it would be far better for those involved if the entire site was destroyed. This may seem rather over-zealous, but it has taken me some time to come to this conclusion and I'm going to present this as logically as possible.

Point 1: Project 512 encourages self-diagnosis and hypochondria due to incredibly poor standards of response.

I'll put this in simple terms. Angsty Child 1 posts up a story about their issue of choice. Angsty Child 2 responds with something along the lines of "that sucks, sounds like you have bi-polar/depression/*insert mental condition here*". Angsty Child 1 believes this, whether or not they actually have such a condition.
Medical diagnosis complete, without the intervention of a trained professional! Marvellous. Which leads me on to my second point.

Point 2: Project 512 has little to no appropriate moderation.

Nine times out of ten this isn't a problem. The individuals that go on there and tell their "omg nobody likes me SOMEONE HELP" stories usually get responses along the lines of "that sucks, but look what happened to me!". And that's fine - there isn't actually anything wrong with these teenagers, they just have angst. But what if someone comes along with serious issues? With blanket access for all users, what is to stop some twelve year old taking the piss - or even simply giving a trivial response, such as "lol that sucks." Especially in the cases of advanced mental disorders, it wouldn't take much to push someone over the edge, and this site encourages them to pour out their heart and soul to an entity of teenagers wrapped up in their own problems. Not exactly safe or healthy.

Point 3: Project 512 is a breeding ground for angst. It exacerbates the problem rather than combats it.

This is the point I believe I will face the most opposition about. I base this upon individuals I'm actually aware of who frequent the site, and from browsing the site's contents and drawing logical conclusions from said contents. I refuse to believe that surrounding yourself with the issues of others and airing your own issues in such a setting is conductive to good mental health. There is a place for discussing and surmounting your issues. That place is with a trained professional. It is an inappropriate setting for real issues, and it encourages the teenage penchant for attention whoring, excessive drama, and pointless anger. Thus, it is detrimental to the teenage population that accesses it.

Point 4: The moderators/higher ups of the website are utterly self-righteous and pompous, to the point of being spiteful and vicious in defence of their creation.

This is where, sadly, I am going to have to get personal. I speak primarily of [edited], though I am sure they are not the sole representatives of this cohort. The phrase "If you're not for us, you're against us" applies here, and also my arguments in my previous blog post about 'weak' personalities. These two individuals in particular have nothing else of interest in their lives. Their Facebook pages, conversation - in short, their lives - revolve around Project 512, and their 'issues'. They should be considered seperately, however, and I'm going to cover them both simply because they both illustrate my point in different ways.
[Edited] is, simply put, a distraught and unhappy teenager who has been encouraged to not only express his discontent with himself, but positively wallows in it. At any hour of the day he is self-loathing and what's more, he seems to take a warped sort of satisfaction out of it. And at the heart of this is Project 512. I feel nothing but pity for him and urge him, if he is reading this, to seek proper help - this is a poor substitute.
[Edited] is, to my knowledge, the founder of Project 512 and its chief supporter. In short, it has consumed him. The phrase 'self-righteous douchebag' is one that has been applied many times, and I think it very apt. It is a curious thing that sometimes people who believe they are doing good in the world are so monumentally arrogant about it that they place themselves far above everyone else, and [Edited] has certainly done that. He is judgemental, aggressive in defence of his creation, preaching - even going so far as to attack other, similiar causes (those who have encountered him will remember his rage at TWLOHA Day, claiming it was for 'Twilight bitches who don't know what they're talking about.) There is no way in his eyes but his way, and unfortunately Project 512 has encouraged in him the teenage penchant for believing that everyone is against him. The rumours that he spends the donations and merchandise proceeds on his car, admittedly, have no evidence behind them - but I would believe them.
I have nothing more to say on him, say that I hold him in a position of utmost contempt and want nothing to do with him save laugh at his incredible stupidity and arrogance.

To conclude this: Project 512 is a plague upon those who use it. It encourages and exacerbates their issues, would be downright dangerous for those individuals who actually need professional help, encourages self-diagnosis and self-righteous arrogance, and should not be allowed to continue.

Something I wish to disprove but can't. D:

Two blogs in two days. MADNESS. I've been goaded into this one as it was the second half of the debate which incited the blog I wrote yesterday - and committing that discussion to text is as important to the other half of that conversation as it is to me, so I'm doing it now.

I was introduced to an interesting theory about a year and a half ago, and the impact of that theory is such that I find myself recalling it quite often even now - and despite the fact that I don't believe it is true. The theory is the following:

If you consider every possible variable leading up to an action or choice of an individual, they are doing the only logical thing considering all variables, and thus, are doing the best they can at all times.

I'll try and explain. Imagine an all-seeing being - an entity that can see absolutely everything that has ever happpened ever. If this being considered a human being - their upbringing, the elements that went into their personality, their history, their genetics, everything - and then considered that person's actions, it would see that every action that they took could be attributed to all these things that led them to that point. If this being could see every circumstance which relates to a person, however small, than it could logically trace every action that person takes to a particular circumstance or circumstances. And, logically, it could predict what actions and choices that person would make in the future based on those circumstances.
Thus, every action that a person takes is dictated by the infinite myriad of circumstances which led them to that point, and thus, they are doing the best they can be expected to do at all times. This theory was told to me by my psychiatrist at the time and I believe he was telling me the theory in order to allow me some sort of forgiveness for my stepfather - if I could view his actions as the result of the circumstances that shaped him, I could come to forgive him in time.
That didn't happen, and I loathe this theory with every fibre of my being because I find it constricting. Something about it strikes a chord of horror within me - it feels too much like logically proving that there is no free will. But, as the psychiatrist patiently explained to me, free will is a variable that is considered also.
I DO NOT LIKE IT.
Still, an interesting discussion topic.
And now, a pretty picture, and the quote that was attached to it. The artwork is called Shadow of Doubt.

"Your ignorance is my bliss."

Musings on Personality

Right then. Goaded by the incessant, shrill voices of Facebook demanding attention and by the incredibly intellectual and entertaining debate that rages in my spa at 11 at night, I am going to put my thoughts onto metaphorical paper on the subject of individuality and identity. YES, this is a thinly veiled dig at the supporters of ‘512 Day’ and that sort of ilk, but I would hope that you bear with my argument on the matter and at least have the decency to countermand me with intellect rather than flames. If I wanted to seriously assault you, I’d write a whole post about you, and that day is fast approaching, but for now I broach this subject merely in the interests of psychological theory. So, I hope you enjoy it.

First and foremost, my discussion opens with an examination of myself, as I am wont to do. Why do I find the company of some far more interesting than the company of others? Why do people I barely know command my respect, and why do others I have known for years command none? What, in short, attracts me to individuals? The answer, we have found, is simple. I am attracted to those who match my personality in terms of stature – that is to say, those who share the same elements of personality that I myself share. After closer examination, all those I would hold in respect have self-awareness, confidence, and layers. All those I hold in contempt do not.

I am explaining this poorly. I shall attempt to summarise the overall thought. I, having a ‘strong’ personality, am attracted to the company of others who possess ‘strong’ personalities. I am also repelled by those who possess ‘weak’ personalities.

So, what makes a ‘strong’ personality? Again, after much discussion, we concluded that the answer is simple – have an interest, a passion! For example, I have a passion for writing and expression, for World of Warcraft, for good books, and for finding out what makes others tick. My closest confident and oft-inspiration – Ben – has a passion for art and for acrobatics. A girl named Catherine who I do not know very well has a penchant for expression and English, though I sense there is a lot more that I am not seeing – in short, our passions and abilities lend us depth, which in turn gives us strength. To summarise this thought, hobbies lead to confidence and surety of self. If you know what you like, you know who you are.

By no means am I suggesting that to have a ‘strong’ personality means to be outspoken, extroverted and vocal. Again to quote examples, I know a girl named Kelly who is one of the meekest people I know – but she has that strength that originates from depth. I find her a fascinating person and despite the fact she is so withdrawn, I enjoy her company vastly – perhaps even more so than people I spent thrice as much time around and who make four times the noise. Indeed, there are infinite elements to consider in how ‘strong’ personalities will relate to each other – it isn’t all being loud. I myself tend to be a veritable flow of words when in the company of Ben, who has over time become a master at changing the direction of my thought processes with a single sentence interjected. In this manner, we communicate and create– this entire discussion is the work of the two of us, one night in the spa.

To consider the other end of the spectrum, those with ‘weak’ personalities are a whole other kettle of fish. You know the type. Endless Facebook status updates with how bored they are, how miserable they are, how much their life sucks. They have a brittle outer shell of misery and resentment, and their hollow insides are easy to see. I for one cannot stand the company of one for more than a few seconds at a time, and the sight of their endless moaning makes me angry. Perhaps it is the lack of talent and passion that led to their identities retaining the consistency of wet cardboard – I do not know. I suspect this is not the case all the time – one of the chief offenders is quite a good drawer, for example – but it seems to hold true. Without something driving you, these parasites – for parasites they are – latch on to one another and feed each other’s misery. And that is exactly what Project 512 is. A hollow refuge for the hollow.

But I digress.

To sum up:

‘Strong’ personalities will enjoy the company of other ‘strong’ personalities and be uncomfortable, even contemptible, of those with ‘weak’ personalities.

‘Weak’ personalities band together to mask their lack of depth and feed off one another’s misery, perhaps taking solace in the fact that just because all they have left to them is complaining doesn’t mean they can’t share that with someone just like them.

I consider myself a strong personality and cannot abide those with weak personalities. I refuse to believe they are victims of circumstance, especially in the day and age we live in, and I have no patience for them.

To finish entirely, another spiffy picture! I'm going to make a habit of giving a new one every post, because it means I can thumbnail them on facebook and it isn't always the rainbow crow.

Life Offline

So I'm coming up on a whole two months without a stable internet connection. I've been using this little satillite reciever thing for Facebook and for this blog, but the quality of connection is incredibly low and often I'm unable to get online for any length of time. So I've been having to find ways to amuse myself offline, that is -gasp- actually getting outside and meeting people, socialising in the real world.
I don't like it much, but I have noticed a few changes in myself over the past few months, and I suppose I want to write them down before they fade into who I am and I stop being aware of them.
First off, I'm happier. I never thought I'd be able to say that, but I am in fact happier than I was connected to the internet. After examining this emotion, I came to the conclusion that I needed a break from WoW. I had been playing non-stop for about two and a half years at the point where my net was cut off, the last few months of which I had been running a guild, and I needed to switch off a bit. Family have noted that I 'seem less angry' these days, and I've noted that I feel less irritable and pressurized.
Secondly, I've found time for my other pursuits again- something that I haven't been keeping up with in years. I'm a gamer at heart, and I've actually been playing other games - Modern Warfare, Borderlands, Super Mario Wii (kicks ass, by the way). I've gone through my Magic card collection and catalogued it. I've drawn all over my walls. I've almost read the entire Wheel of Time series again when I hadn't seriously picked up a book in over eight months. I'm getting things done.
Thirdly, I'm having a social life and thus want a job. Thrust out into the real world, social events just started to crop up, especially with the holidays starting today. I'm getting drunk a lot, I'm having a lot of fun, and I want money. Which means that my time is actually being filled quite effectively without WoW.
Finally, every single part of me screams for WoW back. I know, kind of funny. Looking over the other points, you would think that losing the internet would be a positive thing for me. Unfortunately, the weight of responsibility tied in with the desire to be around the people I love online is getting stronger by the day. I have reached the peak of enjoying life without WoW entirely, and I am happy that I could, but I want both worlds, and come hell or high water I will have them.
To conclude, a pretty picture!

25 Facts

This was on my Facebook but I figure everything of interest that gets written down should eventually be transplanted here.

1) I believe that people are either charming or tedious, and that good and bad aren't important.

2) I have a head completely full of words and sometimes they force their way out of me uncontrollably.

3) I have an addiction to physical contact that I have been unable to combat - any kind of touch to me is literally a drug. I don't really like this, because it motivates me to do things I'm not always proud of.

4) I wouldn't say I'm depressed or particularly happy. More, I swing from one extreme to the other. My highs are soaring and my lows are oh so low.

5) I have been in several relationships. Two were obsessives, one was normal (!), one went off with my ex, and one proved to me that love is the most damaging emotion in existence. I don't think I will date for a very long time. I tend to prefer 'casual arrangements' because I don't like to be emotionally vunerable anymore.

6) I have an unfortunate habit of becoming attached to people.

7) I am a great supporter of anything that alters your conciousness. The world comes into focus better if you're looking at it through the bottom of a bottle.

8) [OMITTED 10:18PM 24/1/2015]

9) I love World of Warcraft and those who play it.

10) I believe that self-awareness is the most important trait anyone can possess.

11) [OMITTED 10:18PM 24/1/2015]

12) I like the dark - the only times I actually like to leave the house are generally pitch black. I wander around a lot at night.

13) I have horrible horrible nightmares a lot of the time, but I'm reasonably well adjusted, I suppose.

14) I want to be a teacher, of English and Drama.

15) About the only saving grace my life has is my writing. I do a lot of it. I have a blog that I'm rather fond of.

16) I can play the tenor saxophone, though not very well. I haven't picked it up in a few months.

17) I have been and still am in love, though I've learnt not to listen to it. No good seems to come of it.

18) Music isn't my life, but it keeps my heartbeat in time.

19) I wish I spent more time around people and less time alone. When I'm with people, I feel the need to entertain them so they aren't bored, and that annoys me, but when I'm alone I'm bored anyway - so I suppose I wish I could be bored around other people and not uncomfortable.

20) [OMITTED 10:18PM 24/1/2015]

21) [OMITTED 10:18PM 24/1/2015]

22) CAN'T THINK OF ANY MORE FACTS OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD.

23) Wait, got one. I smoke. I'm one of those self-hating smokers though so I'm pretty discrete about it.

24) I like you and would like to know more about you, spend more time with you, laugh with you. But I doubt I will.

25) I don't fear the future but I'm pretty suspicious of it. I think its up to no good.

A Nicely Worded Comic

Love Amongst the Criminally Insane

Given that I don't have WoW or indeed stable internet to distract me from things at the moment, I've been forced to spend a lot of time sitting and examining the workings of my own mind.

"Contempt for one's own motivations is a vulgar thing."

That quote is from Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (incidentally, if you haven't read that, can stand a little cathartic violence and want a comic book to change your life, PICK UP A COPY OF THIS). And I've noticed really, when observing the curious little thought patterns that rush around in that gargantuan brain of mine, that my thoughts are centered on two things primarily. Those things are what to do in order to return to WoW and what I see as half my life, and the other is that of love - more specifically, how do I feel about love.
So, now that I've identified what I'm thinking about, I'm going to use this blog to get my thoughts out of my brain and into neat little ordered rows so I can understand what's causing them and either encourage it to grow or crush it ruthlessly.
As I've said many times before, this blog largely serves as an aid for my own mental health, and you may not find it entertaining - I usually say this, and people usually read it anyway. Go ahead if you like.
So. What are my thoughts on love?

I am in love.

Interesting, that one. Despite (or perhaps because of) whatever else comes after this point, it is pretty set in stone. I have been, will be, and am in love. I suppose this isn't something that I have control over. People have to love. I love. I can't do anything about this. Whether this is a pro or a con is yet to be seen...

Love is a highly dangerous emotion.

All I need to do is examine the numerous metaphorical scars I bear and I know this one is true. Like all great catalysts, love is volatile. It can burn you without the slightest warning, and those marks it can leave on you hurt. What's more, they can endure forever. It is a small mercy that the pain does cease after a while. One must always be wary when one realises that one is in love. Unfortunately...

Love turns you into a damned idiot.

Good combination, no? >_> When in love, one will do almost anything in order to keep that going. There is nothing more hideous in this world than unrequited love (forgive spelling). Even when relationships pass, as they do, if the feelings don't fade they can drive you to do stupid things. I've had to restrain myself from asking for a second chance on a few occasions with a few people. Gotta try and ignore that.

Love and lust wear the same clothes.

Spotting the difference can be rather tricky. Indeed, one precedes the other quite a bit. In my case, I can love and not lust - to find someone emotionally interesting but not attractive is pretty nasty, though.
Finally, I suppose I should always keep in mind.

You love love when you're in love, but you loathe love when you're unloved.

If I remembered this at all times, I think I'd be a slightly happier person, really.

This post was horribly disjointed and I hate it. But what the hell. Thoughts are thoughts, and this simple cage is going to confine them for me until I can examine them in finer detail.

Letter to a Friend

I wrote this to a person who I've known for a scant year. After sending it to him, I thought I'd put it here, like all my other scribblings. Enjoy.

I was going to save this for after you graduated, for a point in the holidays – because I won’t see you as much after graduation and thus would spare us both potential embarrassments. Still, you know what I’m like for getting my emotions out, so I hope you understand why I have to write something like this to you, and I hope you respect me for it. In fact, I’m pretty sure you will.
You may remember a point in time where I told you I wasn’t sure if I counted you friend, fascinating, frightening or attractive. Moreover, I didn’t tell you which was strongest – I concluded over time that the latter two were strongest. That’s since changed, and quite drastically, and I want to tell you why without tripping over my metaphorical tongue – something that is actually proving quite tricky, so bear with me. D:
You noticed that I’m not a very happy individual. I don’t like people. To me, most of them are something to be held in contempt, unable to rise above the horrible motivations and desires that rule their insignificant lives. But in you, I saw – and see – something more, and I’m trying to express to you what that has done for me.
I was suddenly confronted with an individual who desires to help others. An individual who told me many times that they desired my happiness, and my happiness alone. An individual who endeavoured many times to bring me that happiness. You didn’t succeed – I don’t believe that anyone or anything can bring me happiness but myself, and that will take time – but you gave me something more, something infinitely more valuable.
In observing you and your tireless endeavours to make people happy, to help them to smile, I saw something incredible and boundless in the human psyche that I had not had the chance to observe before then – that of selflessness. Through you I transcended through my contempt – it’s actually quite a spiritual evolution, and you were the engineer of it. In short, you are the source of my hope. You couldn’t give me happiness, but you gave me hope in the short time I have known you. I told you once that I love you – and I mean that more now than I have ever meant those words, because you embody everything in people that I admire, respect, and aspire towards. You’ll probably disregard most of this as ill-informed or unsuitable in describing you – and I do also, because it does not capture what I am trying to say adequately, but I’m doing my best – but I cannot express to you how much meeting you and having you in my life for as long as I did, however short they may be, has done for my mental state of mind, my faith in individuals, and my capacity for growth.
You are a fantastic, incredible, wonderful individual and I am truly blessed to have had someone like you around. I love you with all my heart, as a brother, and I thank you from the bottom of it.

Irritate the Faithful, Part I

Wrote this back in first term to annoy my religious friend. I'll dig out the second half and upload it later.

It is essential to my sense of self that I believe there is a part of me that is eternally enduring – in the grand scheme of things, my lifespan is of such an insignificant duration that I virtually do not exist at all. Life; meaningless, when viewed on a large scale; on the small scale, all the fun stuff emerges. So by allowing myself vices that may be considered ‘sinful’ I retain my sanity and remain true to my nature – but at all times the consideration of the large scale lurks at the back of my mind. In order to handle such an incomprehensible factor as my own eventual oblivion I must have faith in that part of me that will last the blind eternities – my soul.

False hope, no doubt, but essential nonetheless. However, I would not be so naive as to subscribe to such a mockery of the soul as an organised religion. To pretend that the core aspect of my self is in the hands of a cosmic being that has direct control of every/any aspect of my mortal existence is a blasphemy in itself. The only path to transcendence lies within the confines of my own skull. We are all our own gods – that should be enough. Nor shall I submit to the abomination that is atheism. Trampling on children’s sandcastles and acting like this is a moral obligation is a crime.

Values of Truth

This is what I do with my brain when I don't have WoW to distract me. Good lord. >_>

Truth became an intangible value the day we learned how to lie. If we consider truth to be a value inherent in all things, the only way to determine ‘truth’ levels within a thing would be to consider truth as an absolute. For instance, if truth is beauty and beauty truth, then all things that are considered beautiful are also true, and all things that are considered true have beauty in them, because of the ‘truth’ of said beauty (although as stated, both are completely intangible values). The truth is inherent in the item because the creature, idea or revelation is ‘truly’ beautiful. Thus, truth is essentially the statement of unquestionable fact. Without the fact being an absolute, it is impossible for said fact to possess truth.

The day that we learned how to question is the day we learnt to lie. To have differing points of view, to be able to question, consider and refute the world around us utterly removes the inherent value of ‘truth’, as it undermines the essential component of unquestionable fact. With said ability to question and ultimately to deceive or distort the facts of a thing is to destroy the indisputability of the value of truth – to remove the purity of said truth is to destroy it utterly, for it cannot exist in part, only as a whole. As an absolute, we are literally forced to acknowledge truth – at least as a measurable, inherent value – as an ‘all or nothing’ situation.
Indeed, if we remove the equation of deception, questioning – in short, the entire concept of perception – we find truth once more, but in a pervading absolute sense once again. With the absence of perception, truth becomes an absolute present in all things – if things can be considered to exist with nobody perceiving them. Add perception to the equation and truth once again becomes impossibility.

So, in place of truth, we have the belief of truth. We have opinion, perception and conclusion. Some would consider this a poor substitute for the overwhelming indisputability of truth – but unfortunately, it is all we can hope for. Given the natural, unfortunate ability of life to insist upon observing the world, truth cannot exist.

A Rebirth - of sorts.

(I wrote this a term ago during one of my Monday breaks).

Let me start by saying that this text serves no purpose to the object reader.

You would do well not to bother with it.

I recount this for myself, whoever that is. I did not write it for your analysis, or your belief. Both are immaterial.

This is the story of how I died.

Years ago, I was alive. I suppose you could say I was the average person. I had friends. I had a job, on and off. I had dreams and romantic entanglements and mistakes and above all, I had a pulse. This was in high school – the palace of passion. I rode the wave of my own hormones with a grin and a whoop of exhilaration, sustained by the fires of youth. It was of course no more or no less than every other child of that age, but I remember it fondly even so.

No, perhaps I was more. When I was alive I had a way with words, a way with people. A social circle sprung up around me like weeds in a concrete wilderness, and for a time I amused myself with their struggles and dreams, their desires echoed in my own. How easily dissuaded the mind is in those early years of awakening from the truth. I am jealous of whom I was, back then – the bloated spider in the centre of a web that would soon become a strangling noose. I do not assign fault for my demise to any other than myself. I was responsible for shaping the creature that I became, that I would eventually be trapped by and destroyed.

This could not last, of course. The web shattered under the weight of monotony combined with change. People did what people do, and moved on with their lives, new webs, and new snares. Bereft of my empire, I drifted, lost.

This was the start of my demise, of course.

Before long, I was betrayed. The structure I had manipulated and manoeuvred through with such ease began to resent my trespass. With the strength of my will sapped, I was unable to counter with that which had sustained me for so long – with that power that burned within my very core for over a decade. The fires had gone out and perverted justice was swift to strike.

In my weakened state I allowed the world in. Foolish, as it turned out. There is no describing what was felt. Imagine your capacity to deal with emotion completely and utterly removed one day, and in the place of this capacity you have an inherent understanding of emotions (which of course, I had gained from my empire building and manipulation). Now imagine emotion occurring around you throughout your life, incomprehensible emotion – those infused with the flame you no longer possess living their vibrant lives, leaving you on the outside, a hollowed husk incapable of experiencing what they have become in their evolution.

I became that husk – but I did not die, not yet. Blood still flowed through my veins; my heart surged and pumped life to my brain, fuelling my tormented thoughts. Contempt and jealousy became my bread and butter. The first, for the blind fools who could not see their desires and emotions sweeping them up and carrying them through their brief, fragile lives; the second, for their capacity to feel boundless sorrow, depthless love, and endless hatred. I mocked them for their helplessness and lusted after their purity.

But of course, I say that I desired to be like them; but this desire was not deep, it was not pure. It was a mean thing, born out of self-hatred and warped introspection. I suppose it was true to say that I hated their existence but I hated my own even more so. But still I was not dead. Crippled, but not dead.

My murderer was unassuming enough. He had bleached hair, dark circles under his eyes. He had a slight frame – you would hardly have thought him capable of cold-blooded execution to look at him. But murder me he did.

I was sitting in a classroom. One half of me was bent to the task of filling my head with facts and figures, as one does in a classroom. The other half of me was devoted entirely to the task of blocking out the emotion that threatened to resonate within me, to goad me into attempting to interact with the infused creatures around me, so hateful and so beautiful.

I looked up and met his eyes.

And I died.

To this day, I’m not sure how he did it. There was nothing different about him. There were hundreds like him – mildly interesting in manner and appearance, bodies often slightly unwell and heads full of intriguing ideas. But I had trained myself long ago to ignore these as false signs of depth. The awareness I possessed of humanity, I thought, could not be mirrored in an imperfect, emotional vessel. I was the only wretch who thought and acted the way I do, who had achieved transcendence through desecration of my nature. All those who were ‘different’ were merely reflections of the main body; off-shoots, perhaps, but still part of the same whole. I was aware that they were false – there was no power they possessed that could reach behind my eyes and compel my bleak, embittered soul into passion and fire.

But I met his gaze and felt my death in his eyes.

I am not sure what I am anymore. I am dead. But I am more alive than I have felt in a long time.

Another pic for linking purposes.

Giant evil lobster, anyone?

I am most pleased.

School starts again tomorrow, so alas, this break of endless WoW has to end. Still, it means I can bust out my laptop during break periods and write some things for you, blog. <3

Elders, grant me all your strength, they mean business!

Finally, I can stop posting about Freya.

Elders, grant me slightly more of your strength!

Also, here's some Algalon pics (pretty!)

Elders, grant me your strength!

Welcome to the endless winter!

I, Experiment.

Horrible title, but I can never figure out how to sum these things up in a single sentence anyway, so it'll do.
Here's the deal. Basically, I've come to a realisation about what I am that I'm none too pleased with, but am attempting to wrap my head around it anyway. Bear with me, I just want to get it on metaphorical paper.
So the large group of people I will loosely call my 'friendship group' have, for the past several years, always been a pretty out there bunch. I've tended to gravitate towards the kooks, the crazies, the amusing, the bold, the entertaining - basically the abnormal and the incredible. Which is wonderful, because I get to experience a lot of awesome views on the world and have a blast with these people, and I'm grateful for being able to be around them because, as I've said, they are so different and awesome and I love it.
But there is a slight problem with hanging around with these sorts of people. They tend to be introspective, sometimes not too sure of themselves, always open to new ideas, slightly apprehensive and difficult to read - and quite a lot of them have been boys. And quite a lot of them have been/are attractive.
I'm sure you can see where this is going.
For quite a few years now, I've found myself in situations where - well, you know what, let's make a list:

• Been cloistered with numerous 'straight' boys, whose natural curiousity and perhaps subconcious urgings have led them to lead me on to quite an impressive degree, but at the same time giving them plenty of room to back out whenever the room takes them, leaving me frustrated.
• Been in relationships with people who have only just 'come out' - often not even letting everyone know that they are, indeed, interested in boys, and who have got cold feet. This has happened in three relationships, the most damaging of which was my most recent one, in which the best that could be said is that he had the decency to end the experiment a week into the relationship, thus wounding me only greivously, not fatally.
  
• Endless, endless, ENDLESS drunken, fumbling feelups, kisses and subtle touching.
• The ridiculous habit I have of falling for anyone who shows even the remotest affection for me, which is tied in to a recent develepment I have only just learnt of.

Here's the absolute fuck of the whole thing though - I have an addiction to physical contact. An absolute, undeniable, complete and utter addiction to it. As in, diagnosed addicted, serious psychological need for it addicted.
And I'm surrounded by people who can fuel this addiction, with their hands and their words and their curiousity and their emotional decay, and I have been for years, and I've gone with it because, hey, I get my fix, right? And at times I've even deluded myself - no, that's not accurate. At times I have even fallen for them completely, allowed myself to form a deep-seated emotional attachment to that which feeds me, and why not? I may as well. Better to like them then loathe them.
And lying there, drunk or sober, alone with one or surrounded by several, addiction being sated on a large scale or a small scale, there's that little nagging voice in the back of my head that reminds me the one undeniable fact; that every relationship, every fumbling grope, every kiss, every meaningful look and every casual screw means next to nothing to them. That I am, have always been and will always be nothing more than an amusing experiment, the oddity, the faggot. The one with the addiction, easily manipulated, prudent and silent and fun while it lasts.
If we are to pour on the melodrama, it makes me doubt whether I'll ever be loved by anyone properly.
Still, twas an interesting observation when running through my head, and I failed at getting it onto the page, but I'm glad it's out.

Sarth 3D

Greentalon got the mount. :D

Lose Your Illusion

Anub/IC Hard Mode

I quite enjoyed Steelbreaker last, to be honest. Nothing we couldn't handle, but certainly more interesting than Brundir last.
Anub'arak is a complete pushover. Nuff said.

Project Horde A SUCCESS!

Okay, not really.

We cheated a bit.

Long story short is that Team Rocket is now Team Galactic and Liri the spacegoat is now Liri the moo-cow.

I'm still reeling a bit, everything is happening so fast, but we're having an absolute blast.

Twin Valks

Prism

Prism
by Owen Leskovar

Blue.

The mind of a man is a slate to be made
In the image of those who he keeps as his friends
But the smog of emotion that oft clouds the brain
Is a pollution the rational mind can transcend

The heat of the moment, the haze over thought
Robs us of our dignity, and of our wits
Given the chance, time heals all wounds
Rather than robbing a man of his intelligence

We should be blue as a glacier, stoic and calm
Lucid and balanced, and seeking our path
Combing the world and unearthing its secrets
Rather than being enslaved by our wrath

Red.

Red is the color of life and of blood
That hurries and turns through our hearts and our veins
The fervor of love, the longing for freedom
A spirit that casts off all shackles and chains

It's warmth and it's love with no calm or restraint
With no cold eye that judges with rational thought
Like the machines that we paint as black and opaque
Because they embody the things we are not

It's destructive, shortsighted; no barriers observed
A spirit that can't be restrained or subdued
And at their weakest, the feeblest coward
Is still somehow redder. Well, redder than blue.

Black.

I have heard those who told me that life was a fire
And that we're persons of passion who refuse to be caged
And I've listened to those who say we're curious creatures
But to be fully human we must imprison our rage

But the answer to life is much simpler than that
We are all ourselves, nothing more, nothing less
And so we must seize what we feel we deserve
And at last be in charge of our own happiness

It may not be appealing, but it can't be denied
That we're opportunistic, and we'll snatch what we crave
From the weak hands of others (but liars the same)
Those who aren't the masters are fated as slaves

White.

A competitive world of kings and of serfs
Perpetuates evil in all of its forms
We must be united, and equal in all ways
If our weakened spirits are to weather this storm

We must be sober, find truth in each other
Look inwards if that's what will help us obey
The laws and commandments that endeavor to usher
Us into a tomorrow without disarray

It isn't a cage if it keeps out the darkness
And it isn't oppression if it keeps you safe
For what good is freedom if it leads you to ruin?
If your glass house is sheltered it won't ever break.

Green.

Those looking to change things by now look too far
Life's perfect in how it was firstly conceived
We shouldn't be shackled, cut loose, or "protected"
Nor should we see others as tools to deceive

The natural order is not just blind passion
It's not icy reason, or black selfishness
And yet we cannot be slaves to each other
Or cracking reflections of benevolence

We don't need to strive to meet some ideal
Or change our own instincts to meet abstract laws
We should be content with what nature intended:
Glorious, growing, and wonderfully flawed.

ToC Progression

Okay, so I know all I'm posting is WoW shots. I have nowhere else to put them. When I'm older and I look back on this blog, I will realise how much it consumed my life and maybe I'll change. There, something good will come out of this.

YOGG

YOGG DOWN

Progression shots.

More progression shots because I have nowhere to put them.

BUT!

In a few days I'll have the outline of a few stories I'm writing. Hurrah, non WoW-related postage.

<3

TEAM ROCKET

My god. 2 days of raiding in my new guild after AaL kicked us out (the drama llama followed us home) and we have downed all keepers.

Shots up for the thread. I'm in bliss.

Oh how compromising

Project Horde v2.0

Baest, myself, Greentalon and Everblight, from left to right. Baest has fallen far behind, and it's now just us three.




Level 10.

Us on a pirate ship that we shall return to (with Bloodsail Admiral titles and costumes)

Level 20.