Swan Song

I have been told a lot of things this year and I have refused to believe a lot more. There have been things people have told me that they perceived as plainly obvious but I have brushed off as false. Why? Because I believed they were false. I knew my perception was right yet theres was a little part of me that told me everyone else had the correct assumption. Whenever I'm right, I feel a fit of joy, a sort of euphoria form being correct and proving many others wrong. But when I'm wrong, I never know how to feel. I should be miffed because I was proven wrong, but at the same time I feel a sort of relief that I no longer need to hide from the truth anymore.
Last night I had a dream. Within the dream I had felt betrayed and mortified form the actions that had taken place, when in reality, in the conscious world I wouldn't show so much as a cringe to the event. Within the dream I threw the biggest fit. I threw things around and destroyed things I thought meant a lot to me. I had just felt betrayed. But I shouldn't. It would have had nothing to do with me in this world. Through that dream I realized that everyone was right about me when it came to things I didn't even know I was hiding. I know why I threw the fit. I know why I felt so offended. I care...I care a lot...I care so much. Everything makes sense now. Everyone was right to judge me.

To judge me and the other.


This was the 30th blog entry and will be the last post of the year. Until January 14th, "If you read...you'll Judge" will be on hiatus. I will not stop writing possible blog entries, so when I finally return from the holidays, I'll be able to post things rapid fire. But I need a break from servitude. These blogs are therapeutic, yet routine. I hope you enjoyed the "Deciduous Wing" saga. I'm currently working on a new, longer, more meaningful story based on current events I have found myself in the middle of. I'll probably do it in regular vernacular rather than poetry form to get the point across much more clearly. But maybe I transfer it into poetry form If im up to it. As of now, I've called it "Sleep Apnea". All I'm divulging at the moment is that it involves a comatose patient and her husband. Not to mention I've already began a third story that I'll probably work on after "Sleep Apnea" that is based on the dream from yesterday. But thats not until a few months from now.
Next year will be a whole new year....new beginnings. 'Till then, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Years.

Goodbye December.

Check it out....

....all through out the day tomorrow (12/11/07) I'm going to be posting a five part short story told in the form of poetry (i.e. stanzas, rhymes, what-not). Kind of like a "Divine Comedy" sort of text. Since my poetry is often cryptic, I'll give you the gist of what the story is about:

An angel is denied entrance into heaven after his "friend" denies his entry. As the aforementioned angel prepares for his trip to hell, he decides to show God that the angel who denied him is really a devil in disguise. As God turns a deaf ear to his plea, he plots to simply kill the angel himself and drag him to hell with him.

This entire story is based on the people you meet in life who you think you can trust, then they simply turn their back on you for no apparent reason. You want revenge or closure, but it always ends with you finding out something you didn't need to know or experience a consequence you didn't need to suffer.

And I've been through that many a time. But one specific time...

Guilts Inferno

I wonder how it's like to see a building burn down?
To see people screaming for their lives. You're just standing there, helpless to do anything about it. You want to help but you can't. You wish you could just run in there and put out the fire but your risking your own life and possibly adding to the already growing list of casualties. So all you can do is stand there. People are screaming for help...your help.
You want to help, you can't deny that. If it were up to you you would break open the nearest fire extinguisher and drenching the building in H2O-like freedom. But you can't. You don't have that kind of power. You want everyone to be well. But they can't. You yearn for everyones happiness. But you know that everyone can't have it. They'll die in that fire. The ones who escape will live, but you can't help but think about the ones who didn't.
You know you didn't start the fire, but for no reason at all you feel guilty. You feel like you had the power to prevent it even though you had nothing to do with it's ignition. Watching a building burn doing engulfs you in guilt like the flames covering the building. You wish you can help....but you can't and you can never shake the feeling that, even though there was absolutely no way you could have helped, you're to blame. But it's not you're fault. It's just not.

Without fire or the destruction of lives or a building, from what happened last night between a few friends, I now know that feeling of a burning building.

Team Mirrorshot (Rank #2)

Myspace isn't exactly a place where you can truthfully tell others who you are. Sure, there are some things you tell, but other things that you either embellish about or just don't mention. But that's nothing compared to a group of people I call "Team Mirror-shot".

Myspace may be filled with a few white lies, but the most fake and inauthentic thing I see on Myspace are the "Mirror-shot" people. Let me explain this "Mirror-shot":
A mirror shot is when someone takes their digital camera into the bathroom with them with the specific purpose of taking a pseudo-sexy shot of themselves in front of a mirror. There really is no purpose to this photo opportunity besides and incredible hunger to be called a whore. For the only reason you're taking these pictures is to show off how easy you really are because you'll show off your goods in front of a mirror and post it in your profile for the whole world to see.
You narcissistic whore!!!

You put these lame and pathetic pictures on your page to show off that you can be "hot and sexy" and be nice and humble and "enjoy long walks on a quiet moon-lit night" as well. You think that counteracting the pictures with the words you say will draw any attention away from how slutty you look in those photos? NO Bitch!!!
You're drawing attention to the fact that you're are in serious need of anonymous dick inside of you and nothing else.
If you disagree with the notion that all you "Mirror-shot" people with the notion that all you want is attention and sex, why else would you be posting semi-pornographic of yourself with the intention of catching the eye of new "friends". You crave attention and you figure the only way you can get any is whoring yourself to random people. You think you're sexy by taking these photos of a mirror while looking away [you were prepared to be taken a picture of, don't pretend you didn't know the camera went off and you were pouting...bitch!!] but you're not. It's not sexy to be a fucking cum dumpster. It's not sexy to put yourself out there as an object rather than a person. You know what is sexy: self respect.

I'm not saying pictures shouldn't showcase who you are [I personally hate it when people use group pictures as their MAIN picture. One or two other people, fine. But a group...come on....but that's a whole other rant entirely] I'm just saying that if it's a picture of you....it's a picture of YOU. Not of who you want people to think you are. If you can, make it a picture of you when you were honestly not ready. There's no hiding then. That's how life is....unplanned. Nobody wants to know who you aren't. Show us who you are when your inhibitions are thrown to the wind and you're just out in the world being yourself...not in a bathroom in front of a mirror.
Unless it's funny. Because bathrooms are NOT SEXY!!!!!!

For God sakes, 75% of the time the toilet is plainly visible in the picture!!

Tuesdays With Marcus

I got up this morning and, like always, I didn't want to get up. Although, today more than usual. After all of my years of schooling, I always thought that the most disheartening thing in the world is hearing that alarm clock blasting away at my eardrums, completely destroying them in an attempt to wake me from my most peaceful slumber. The second I awake from hearing that alarm go off, I automatically know that the day ahead of me will not be a relaxing one.
When you hear that alarm, you instantaneously know that you were driven out of your euphoric dreams in order to perform an incredibly displeasing task for the day [work, school, picking/dropping someone off...we all hate these come the morning].

Today I heard that alarm clock knowing I had another ritualistic Tuesday morning ahead of me: Get my "less than 8" hours of sleep, wake up with absolutely no time to groom myself, I leave the house unheard and without notice from my parents, I race to the nearest bus stop and get on the first orange/white monster that races my way at 10 miles per hour.

As of late, I've had to deal with an apparent schedule change within the metro system. Nowadays, even my best efforts to make it out of the house before the stroke of six can't help me make the bus on time. I may make the first bus, but die to the changes, by the time I get to Lakewood/Firestone, that second bus has already taken off. Soon there after I'm left with the 30-40 minute wait for the next bus that I've become so accustomed to. Every week for close to two months, I've managed to rush out of the house only to have to wait as long as the average tardy person. I'll wait for the bus and slowly lose my temper which is something I NEVER do. I have no tim efor anything because I fear That I will not make it on time. Between the time I leave the house and the time I get there, there is nothing but worry, stress, and unrelenting fear. I hate Tuesdays with a passion.

I woke up today not caring.

It didn't matter whether I was late or not today. It's close to the end of the mester, and the teachers have all stopped caring. I didn't rush out today. When I woke up I sat at the side of my bed for five minutes contemplating whether or not I should even leave my room. When I finally went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, I decided to at least run my hand through my hair so that it at least appears "Not" slept-on. After that I turned the water and just stared at my ever-glassy eyes in the mirror for a few minutes. I looked at my blood-red eyes and wondered why I was punishing myself so much with this mundane and excruciatingly painful routine. I didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it.

Today, as I left the house, I stopped to throw the morning paper inside the house. I walked at a much slower pace (granted, I sped up because the cold air was REALLY starting to get to me). As I waited at Firestone/Otis, I didn't even notice that the bus was about a minute late. Normally I would be furious over a single second...but no. I was just standing there, listening to the Mars Volta, not a care in the world. After a while, I had forgotten what I was even waiting for. It didn't matter. Unlike other times when I would wait at the "In N Out" and slowly lose my temper at the bus that wouldn't come for another 25 minutes, I didn't even bother looking at my watch. I didn't even notice that the bus came five minutes earlier. The ride to Lakewood took even less time than it normally would. After awhile, I had even forgotten about why I was even on a bus. Normally when I get there I would only have a few minutes before my art history class would start.
Today I was a full hour and fifteen minutes early.

I may have deviated from my opening "alarm clock" theme, but I feel as though I have vented my frustrations to the point where I can finally perform a sigh of relief. Mmmmm....haven't had one of those in years. I once heard a saying in a movie (It was "Fight Club" by the way) that was rather lugubrious when I first read it, but now it makes so much sense:

Losing all hope is freedom.

Reader Discretion Advised

Two things...

1)My internet hasn't been working as well as it should be working as of late. I have been randomly cut off in conversation during my many sessions in Yahoo messenger. I can't talk to anyone anymore because I will randomly be cut off and the other person will think I ditched them. Granted, I only talk to about 7 or 8 people, but they're still friends damn it. Especially the one who i've managed to keep in contact with EVERYDAY despite me being here and her being in Irvine...she keeps me sane. I can't use AIM, I can't log into my college's website, I have a whole five muntes to type these blogs up. Though I've managed a new and much more useful and efficient way of typing these involving Mac office, it's still annoying.
So i've decided to shorten the lenths of the blogs and get straight to the point. It is when my internet is working PERFECTLY once again when I will increase the size to normal again.

2) I have a few "poems" written up that I will start posting over the next few days. I'd like to remind as well as tell for the first time that my "poems" are completely open to interpretation. Sure, I wrote them with a meaning and direct purpose behind the words, but I wrote them in a manner that is so convoluted and confusing to even decipher that reading it will often confuse and turn away anyway. I wrote them in that manner on purpose. I don't like confining a single meaning into one set of words. I have my interpretations and you'll have yours. I'm warning you that a lot of it will disgust you, worry for my mental health, and probably completely scare away if deciphered in a certain manner. But I promise you, NONE of the poems I ever write are meant to be taken literally. They are very dark in nature (as you most likely have already seen in the previous three) and often confused with suicide notes.
They aren't.
Now normally I'll end a blog with a final line of significance that sums up the deeper meaning of the blog that was just written. Unfortunately, there really is no lesson to this blog. So I'll end it in a non-nonsensical set of random words and text-language:

Jub jub =}

Goodbye December

It's a new month.
December.
My personal (second) favorite month. Next to September.
Why the preference you ask? Fuck you! But if you really have to know:
I believe that it's the lugubrious nature of the two months that draws my interest so much. Every time I think of December I think of trees covered in snow during a storm. I think of an empty house lit by a single candle. I think of silence. I think of peace. I think of joy.

September means the end of an age. Well, for me anyway. It is the end of confusion and a new beginning. As I exit one age, I enter another. In a way, December is the universal birth month for everyone on the planet. It's Christmas time!
As a kid, that's what used to get me excited about December. A time of presents, and Christmas trees, and TV specials, "How the Grinch stole Christmas" and that Charlie Brown thing-a-ma-jig. I think of brotherhood, a time where all differences and grievances are put aside for at least a few days. It used to be a month of Santa and his reindeer coming to my house to leave me that BIG gift i asked for. But time moved on. I grew older. December wasn't Christmas anymore. It was something else. Something with more substance. It was a month that could mirror my inner feelings. A month where I can relate to the chill of the wind and the fall of the snow (or in my case the rain.) December is my month...for now. How long this will last, I do not know. As time moves on, so does everyones personality and preferences. With every December comes the "new" year. We can never stop it. It seems as though a year never seems long enough to us. Whether it would be twelve months, or twenty four months, or however long a year would ever last, every years end feels like the end of the "new" year than the old one. We never feels like the year is less than new until that last day: December 31st. Then once that day comes, we prepare for the even "newer" year, and the cycle continues. The year goes by so fast, we never know how to handle it properly. It speeds by so quickly it leaves us all in a daze as to what really happened within the course of one solitary year.
But, with the end of the year, the confusion of the old new-year ends, and a new beginnings of the new new-year commences. Then that year goes by in a haze as well...and the cycle will never end.

It's amazing how how life goes so fast that it won't let you enjoy it yet allows you enough time to know it's there.
Just enough time for joy...
...just enough time for peace...
...just enough time for silence.