The address for my new blog is below.
http://sarcasminternational.blogspot.com/
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Alright I'm back. I understand it has been a while and you probably have lost interest in my senseless ramblings and dire attempts at humor. That being said I'm going to be moving in a different direction and will be creating a new blog to move forward with. I will be adding entries more often and if you're lucky they might actually be interesting. That being said I feel as though I should leave you all with something to remember this part of our time together, I know how special it was to you. So if you will direct your eyes to the writing below we can begin with the end.
I have found, over my vast number of life experiences in my twenty one years, that there are only three real truths in this world. Now before I reveal these truths to you I must first tell you that I really have no idea what I'm talking about and roughly eighty five percent of everything I say is B.S. Not to say that it's not damn good B.S, but that doesn't change what it is. So now that I've gotten the disclaimer out of the way, I'll continue.
The first real truth in this world is a pretty basic one. It is simply that dreams do come true, but not without a fair amount of effort on the part of the dreamer. As simple and obvious as this first truth may be, most people aren't fully aware of the second part. Which is kind of sickening. Thinking that people, young and even old, can expect something good to happen with little to no effort on their part. Not to say that i hasn't happened to me, or anyone else for that matter, but those of us with brain cells remaining are quick to realize that effort is required. And thus the first truth is presented before you. Whether you are aware of it's presence is up to you. Personally I don't really care if you are aware just know that if that's the case, I'm judging you.
The second truth is not as well known but pretty basic none-the-less. It states that people generally aren't bad. Now before you get uppity and start bitching about terrorists and what not, understand that there are exceptions here, just like with everything. This is probably the most important truth of the three. It stands for peace among all people. And those who embrace it live there lives as so. Again, I understand that when the wild cards are present this isn't exactly the case, but you should just work with me and stop second guessing my genius. If we could just embrace this truth we could put differences aside and just accept different creeds, races and those of varying sexual preferences. this would allow us to decrease the amount of tension between nations and cultures and eventually create a world where violence is seldom used, again wild-cards are always going to be evident in a society where free thought is granted so get over yourself and stop bringing it up. And for those of you sitting there calling me Naive and Ignorant, pay attention, our third truth applies directly to that.
The third truth, which is my favorite, is about understanding. Now for those of you who thought my last truth naive and childish I have one question for you. Give me one reason, again wild-cards don't count so move on, why people can't live in harmony, why all religions can't be accepted, and why different races and sexual preferences can't live together? And I understand that in some places this is true. But I mean on a global scale. If you're looking to save some time there is no legitimate reason. Being able to understand others and who they are is what creates relationships with one another. It's the first step for friends and the last one for lovers. At no point in our lives can we co-exist with those we don't understand. there's something unknown which makes us nervous, and from those unanswered questions comes misunderstanding and eventually fear or hatred. But if we just asked the question instead of answering it ourselves we could avoid the nerves and prevent the hate, we could find something we never expected, we could find a friend, or a love. And even if we find nothing, we still didn't find hate.
These truths have guided many people to success and happiness. Since I am still young I cannot speak of either in a familiar manner, but I feel confident that if people can stop being so damn stupid and listen to reason, we can actually make the changes revolutionaries have been grasping at for centuries.
I have found, over my vast number of life experiences in my twenty one years, that there are only three real truths in this world. Now before I reveal these truths to you I must first tell you that I really have no idea what I'm talking about and roughly eighty five percent of everything I say is B.S. Not to say that it's not damn good B.S, but that doesn't change what it is. So now that I've gotten the disclaimer out of the way, I'll continue.
The first real truth in this world is a pretty basic one. It is simply that dreams do come true, but not without a fair amount of effort on the part of the dreamer. As simple and obvious as this first truth may be, most people aren't fully aware of the second part. Which is kind of sickening. Thinking that people, young and even old, can expect something good to happen with little to no effort on their part. Not to say that i hasn't happened to me, or anyone else for that matter, but those of us with brain cells remaining are quick to realize that effort is required. And thus the first truth is presented before you. Whether you are aware of it's presence is up to you. Personally I don't really care if you are aware just know that if that's the case, I'm judging you.
The second truth is not as well known but pretty basic none-the-less. It states that people generally aren't bad. Now before you get uppity and start bitching about terrorists and what not, understand that there are exceptions here, just like with everything. This is probably the most important truth of the three. It stands for peace among all people. And those who embrace it live there lives as so. Again, I understand that when the wild cards are present this isn't exactly the case, but you should just work with me and stop second guessing my genius. If we could just embrace this truth we could put differences aside and just accept different creeds, races and those of varying sexual preferences. this would allow us to decrease the amount of tension between nations and cultures and eventually create a world where violence is seldom used, again wild-cards are always going to be evident in a society where free thought is granted so get over yourself and stop bringing it up. And for those of you sitting there calling me Naive and Ignorant, pay attention, our third truth applies directly to that.
The third truth, which is my favorite, is about understanding. Now for those of you who thought my last truth naive and childish I have one question for you. Give me one reason, again wild-cards don't count so move on, why people can't live in harmony, why all religions can't be accepted, and why different races and sexual preferences can't live together? And I understand that in some places this is true. But I mean on a global scale. If you're looking to save some time there is no legitimate reason. Being able to understand others and who they are is what creates relationships with one another. It's the first step for friends and the last one for lovers. At no point in our lives can we co-exist with those we don't understand. there's something unknown which makes us nervous, and from those unanswered questions comes misunderstanding and eventually fear or hatred. But if we just asked the question instead of answering it ourselves we could avoid the nerves and prevent the hate, we could find something we never expected, we could find a friend, or a love. And even if we find nothing, we still didn't find hate.
These truths have guided many people to success and happiness. Since I am still young I cannot speak of either in a familiar manner, but I feel confident that if people can stop being so damn stupid and listen to reason, we can actually make the changes revolutionaries have been grasping at for centuries.
Friday, October 2, 2009
The boy watched as the soldiers ran through the streets dusted with bullet casings. The gunfire often kept him up at night fearing for the lives of his friends and family. He was not like the other boys. He did not want to join the fight against the foreigners. He wanted to dream. He wanted fly. He wanted to see the world and he wanted to be remembered forever for doing something amazing. He knew he was never going to get out of his country, or even his house for that matter. But dreaming kept him from thinking about the war in front of him. His father had been killed almost a year ago by stray fire from a nearby firefight. He was protecting his children from harm when in fact it was he who needed saving.
The boy thought about it now and realized there were no tears rolling down his cheek. He never cried anymore, as if all emotion had been drained from his soul. It just happened without his knowledge now. He feared he would never feel again. Never love again, never smile again, never laugh again, never cry again.
As he rose from his prayer an explosion shook his house and he fell to his knees. He heard his mother scream and immediately ran to the kitchen below him to face whatever danger lay waiting. As he came down the stairs he heard the shot. It was not like the millions of shots he had heard before, this one was special. This one was the one that killed his mother. The soldier stood over her body with an eerie smile on his face, clearly proud of the life he had just stolen. The boy stood in a fiery mix of shock and rage staring at the soldier, unable to look at his mother. He ran at the devil before him and swung violently in a crazed attempt to avenge his mothers death. He was knocked to the ground and immediately everything went dark.
The sound of crying was all around him. The gentle reassurance of mothers to their children that everything would be alright could be heard somewhere in the room. As he opened his eyes the boy saw before him maybe 30 people, most of whom he knew. All of them with their children rocking them in their arms whispering gentle assurances that everything will be alright and that they will be enjoying their favorite dinner in just a few hours. That this was just a big misunderstanding. They all knew it was a lie, there was no comfort in the words themselves, it was the thought that maybe it could happen that put the minds at ease. And just like that all of their dreams were shattered as a loud crack from an assault rifle echoed through the room. The man attached to the gun was yelling in a language none of them understood. And after what felt like an hour of his yelling more men stormed into the room and dragged each of the hostages outside and threw them to the ground before what seemed like millions of eyes begging for another’s blood to be spilt so that theirs may be kept warm for one more night.
In the midst of all the commotion the boy didn’t think to look for his sister, she must be horrified. She must be lost and afraid and alone. He scanned the area for her and saw no sign of her. He began to worry and hoped she had done as she had been told so many times before and hidden. Just as he had convinced himself she was safe his world was shattered. He saw the man with the rifle dragging her out in front of everyone yelling once again. He lowered the rifle to her head and resumed screaming at the people before him. He did not care that they could not understand him, he knew the girl in danger would provoke a response. He never would have guessed the response that was to come.
The boy was swallowed by rage and acted solely on instinct. He ran directly at the man and pushed him to the grand standing firm between the man and his sister. He screamed at the man cursing him in ways he wasn’t aware he knew existed. He was swearing the man to an eternity in hell without forgiveness. And just as he finished he realized something. He was crying. There were tears pacing down his face and he looked around and saw the eyes of his countrymen looking upon him.
Looking upon this 13 year old boy who had more strength than every man in the village. The boy realized something else at that moment. He was making a difference, he would be remembered forever. He had saved his people. Even if they all died there that day, he had shown these intruders that they could no longer push them without consequence. And then it happened. He heard chant slowly rise from the back of the crowd and quickly it was booming louder than any gun could ever hope to be. He heard the words, and he knew immediately. He had saved his people. Then the gun went off. The boy fell to his knees, with a smile on his face. With his last breath he repeated the words to his countrymen. “Through hope, we are invincible”.
The boy thought about it now and realized there were no tears rolling down his cheek. He never cried anymore, as if all emotion had been drained from his soul. It just happened without his knowledge now. He feared he would never feel again. Never love again, never smile again, never laugh again, never cry again.
As he rose from his prayer an explosion shook his house and he fell to his knees. He heard his mother scream and immediately ran to the kitchen below him to face whatever danger lay waiting. As he came down the stairs he heard the shot. It was not like the millions of shots he had heard before, this one was special. This one was the one that killed his mother. The soldier stood over her body with an eerie smile on his face, clearly proud of the life he had just stolen. The boy stood in a fiery mix of shock and rage staring at the soldier, unable to look at his mother. He ran at the devil before him and swung violently in a crazed attempt to avenge his mothers death. He was knocked to the ground and immediately everything went dark.
The sound of crying was all around him. The gentle reassurance of mothers to their children that everything would be alright could be heard somewhere in the room. As he opened his eyes the boy saw before him maybe 30 people, most of whom he knew. All of them with their children rocking them in their arms whispering gentle assurances that everything will be alright and that they will be enjoying their favorite dinner in just a few hours. That this was just a big misunderstanding. They all knew it was a lie, there was no comfort in the words themselves, it was the thought that maybe it could happen that put the minds at ease. And just like that all of their dreams were shattered as a loud crack from an assault rifle echoed through the room. The man attached to the gun was yelling in a language none of them understood. And after what felt like an hour of his yelling more men stormed into the room and dragged each of the hostages outside and threw them to the ground before what seemed like millions of eyes begging for another’s blood to be spilt so that theirs may be kept warm for one more night.
In the midst of all the commotion the boy didn’t think to look for his sister, she must be horrified. She must be lost and afraid and alone. He scanned the area for her and saw no sign of her. He began to worry and hoped she had done as she had been told so many times before and hidden. Just as he had convinced himself she was safe his world was shattered. He saw the man with the rifle dragging her out in front of everyone yelling once again. He lowered the rifle to her head and resumed screaming at the people before him. He did not care that they could not understand him, he knew the girl in danger would provoke a response. He never would have guessed the response that was to come.
The boy was swallowed by rage and acted solely on instinct. He ran directly at the man and pushed him to the grand standing firm between the man and his sister. He screamed at the man cursing him in ways he wasn’t aware he knew existed. He was swearing the man to an eternity in hell without forgiveness. And just as he finished he realized something. He was crying. There were tears pacing down his face and he looked around and saw the eyes of his countrymen looking upon him.
Looking upon this 13 year old boy who had more strength than every man in the village. The boy realized something else at that moment. He was making a difference, he would be remembered forever. He had saved his people. Even if they all died there that day, he had shown these intruders that they could no longer push them without consequence. And then it happened. He heard chant slowly rise from the back of the crowd and quickly it was booming louder than any gun could ever hope to be. He heard the words, and he knew immediately. He had saved his people. Then the gun went off. The boy fell to his knees, with a smile on his face. With his last breath he repeated the words to his countrymen. “Through hope, we are invincible”.
Love is Found in a Smile
“Hello, Mr. Dearborn, my name is David Everly. We spoke on the telephone, I’m here for what we spoke about. You were going to tell me about how you and your wife fell in live for the valentines day piece.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Everly, please come in, would you like to get started immediately?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to get to work on this immediately.”
“Of course, now what is it I should tell you?”
“Well sir, I’m looking for a story that will really compel our readers. Something romantic and wonderful, but real. We’re trying to capture true love, instead of just a story.”
“Well then I believe you have come to the right place. I’m one of the few people left who knows what it was, and still is, like to be in love to the point where your own life has no meaning if that one person isn’t around. I have the perfect story for you.”
It’s funny what you remember about people. The smells, facial expressions and for me, I always seem to recall the way they smile the first time we meet. When you develop these kind of habits you look for the ones that stand out, the ones you don’t ever want to forget, the ones you see right before you fall asleep at night. That was her. Everything about her, but especially that first smile. It came so easily, like she had been holding it in all day to avoid seeming crazy. That smile was always there. Even when she cried she had that damn smile. It’s little things like that I miss the most. But you should probably hear the whole story so it makes more sense. By the time I’m done, I guarantee, you’ll miss her too.
She walked into the café and everything and everyone stopped all at once. It was like a scene from a movie. (I found out later that it was in fact just me falling madly in love, but I think this gives the story a special flavor too it.) As soon as she sat down there were not a pair of eyes in the room that weren’t fixated on her (minus maybe one from the crazy homeless guy outside with the lazy eye, but the good one was on her). Within a span of three minutes she had walked into a diner, sat down, and obtained the kind of following Angelina Jolie dreamt about.
Everything had seemed so slow and absorbing I hadn’t even noticed that she had sat right next to me at an obviously barren counter. I began to suspect that either something very good or something very embarrassing was about to ensue and it was a crap shoot over which one it would be once I made my move. The only thing I really remember from this encounter and several after it were small things about her, like that smile. The one I got as soon as I said something to her. The truth is I don’t quite remember what it was that I said to her, I wish I could be for reason’s I can’t explain it has left my memory. But it was good and, the best part was, it worked.
For the next five or six weeks we would call each other on the telephone and make dates to walk through the city together. I would make her laugh which would bring out that smile. That was all I ever needed to feel like I was in heaven. I grew crazier about her by the day, and just when it seemed that I would have an aneurysm and die from pressure I asked her to be my one and only. In case you were wondering, she said yes.
It was in the beginning of this relationship that our love was really forged. I had been working as a staff writer for rolling stone when it first started up. It had become an instant hit overnight and I was lucky enough to be along for the ride. My job had awarded me with a lot more money than I was used to, and I was able to afford a bigger more comfortable and inviting apartment. When I got it I made sure it was big enough for two, and she moved in with me as we rolled into our sixth month of dating. Every day I saw her smile was one more day that I could live, she had become as important to me as the oxygen I breathed. It made my heart swell with warmth when she told me this same thing our first night in the new apartment. I had officially become happy for the first time in my life. All because of her.
After being in the new place for about 3 months she came home with the great news that she had gotten the job she had been trying for, for years. She had been signed on as the new director of creativity at a local, and rather prominent, theater. She had always loved the arts and had even graduated from college with an art history degree. This had brought her into a new world of happiness, as well as money. We decided to start saving for something we might want. Which, one year later, was a trip to Bermuda. Which entailed tanning on the beach, eating fresh seafood at romantic restaurants, and a proposal which became and engagement. When we got back she had a unique glow about her which never seemed to fade even in the later years. The wedding was seven months later. Four months after that we moved into a house outside of the city.
I remember one of the nights of the first few weeks we had been in the new house. I was laying in bed next to her. She was looking at me with her smile beaming her energy into the room. A long time ago before I had even thought about girls, my father told me a story about when he met my mother. He said one day after they had been dating for a while he looked at her, and he said what he saw was the most beautiful sight in the world, and at that moment he knew he was in love. When I asked him what he meant by love he only had one thing to say. “Falling in love is the most important thing you will ever do, and when you do there will be no doubt in your mind that, that is exactly what is going on. The mind doesn’t need to understand when all the heart needs to do is feel.” And this moment was the first moment in my life that I truly understood what he meant when he said that. Nine months later he passed away. Nine months after that night with her our first child was born, a son. I named him Thomas, after my father.
We had three more kids after Tom, who now is a creative writing and romantic literature professor at Leslie College. Two years later we had Vincent who now looks exactly as I did 30 years ago and is now a CEO of a major marketing firm. One year after him we had Alice. She was just as if not more beautiful than her mother. Our only daughter, she married to a very successful doctor and holds a similar position to her mothers as the creative director at the Smithsonian. She looks just like her mother now and has two kids of her own. Two girls; Ellen and Grace. Both are incredibly beautiful girls, just like their mother. And our last was Eric. He now is a famous author with 5 books in circulation and a sixth on the way. Having never been able to write anything myself, after years of trying, I was, and still are to this day, the happiest father in the world.
For my seventy fifth birthday the kids all got the two of us a vacation package to go back to Bermuda to revisit the place where I proposed. I had never in all my years seen a smile so honest and happy as I did that day. I laugh when I think about it. The most beautiful she ever was, in my eyes, was when she was seventy two. Four months later, and two weeks before the trip, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. And it was then, in those fifteen minutes at the doctors office, the dream I had been living for all these years had become a nightmare.
For three years she fought tooth and nail, and for a while it looked as though she was going to pull through. But then, in the last three months of her life she got really bad. She was in chemo all the time, her hair had fallen out and showed no signs of growing back. But through all of it, even when the pain and depression were at their worst, she was always smiling. All she would ever say was she was sorry for ruining the trip. All I could tell her was that Bermuda was simply a place, the vacation was being with her. For three months I barely slept and laid with her at the hospital. And then that day came. The one I’ll never forget.
It’s kind of sad how you remember people. The smells, facial expressions, and for me I always seem to remember what they say before they go. When you develop these kind of habits you look for the ones that stand out, the ones you don’t ever want to forget, the ones you hear right before you fall asleep at night. That was her. I woke up that morning knowing it would be that day. I could see in her eyes that she knew it too. Knowing there was nothing we could do, we did our best to make the most of our last day. We did what anyone would have done, we laid inside holding each other talking about the past. Smiling.
As she was fading out and I could feel she was leaving she said something to me. And I was happy that of all the last statements she could have made, that was it. What she said was; “That first day we met what you said to me was, ‘Excuse me but I noticed you are eating alone, would you mind if I join you? Someone with such a beautiful smile should not have to eat in solitude,’ I memorized those words and I hear them every night before I go to sleep. That was the moment I fell in love with you and decided to spend the rest of my life by your side. I know your upset. I know you’re going to miss me. Just remember that no matter what, my love for you will always be there. As will I, just close your eyes.” As she finished talking her eyes closed and gracefully she passed on. At that moment in time a part of me left along with her. I suppose I’ll get it back when I see her again. Whenever that is.
Four months after this interview Brian Dearborn died of natural causes. He was seventy seven years old. He was cremated and upon his directions his wives ashes, along with his own, were placed in the same container and have been spread under the new construction site of where the diner they first met used to be.
Several weeks after his death I met his son Eric at his newest books premiere signing, he told me the night his father died he, and all his siblings, shared the same dream. The dream was of Brian and his wife in their younger years sitting on a beach in Bermuda sharing a kiss, both with smiles on their faces, both glowing, and both in love.
“Oh yes, Mr. Everly, please come in, would you like to get started immediately?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to get to work on this immediately.”
“Of course, now what is it I should tell you?”
“Well sir, I’m looking for a story that will really compel our readers. Something romantic and wonderful, but real. We’re trying to capture true love, instead of just a story.”
“Well then I believe you have come to the right place. I’m one of the few people left who knows what it was, and still is, like to be in love to the point where your own life has no meaning if that one person isn’t around. I have the perfect story for you.”
It’s funny what you remember about people. The smells, facial expressions and for me, I always seem to recall the way they smile the first time we meet. When you develop these kind of habits you look for the ones that stand out, the ones you don’t ever want to forget, the ones you see right before you fall asleep at night. That was her. Everything about her, but especially that first smile. It came so easily, like she had been holding it in all day to avoid seeming crazy. That smile was always there. Even when she cried she had that damn smile. It’s little things like that I miss the most. But you should probably hear the whole story so it makes more sense. By the time I’m done, I guarantee, you’ll miss her too.
She walked into the café and everything and everyone stopped all at once. It was like a scene from a movie. (I found out later that it was in fact just me falling madly in love, but I think this gives the story a special flavor too it.) As soon as she sat down there were not a pair of eyes in the room that weren’t fixated on her (minus maybe one from the crazy homeless guy outside with the lazy eye, but the good one was on her). Within a span of three minutes she had walked into a diner, sat down, and obtained the kind of following Angelina Jolie dreamt about.
Everything had seemed so slow and absorbing I hadn’t even noticed that she had sat right next to me at an obviously barren counter. I began to suspect that either something very good or something very embarrassing was about to ensue and it was a crap shoot over which one it would be once I made my move. The only thing I really remember from this encounter and several after it were small things about her, like that smile. The one I got as soon as I said something to her. The truth is I don’t quite remember what it was that I said to her, I wish I could be for reason’s I can’t explain it has left my memory. But it was good and, the best part was, it worked.
For the next five or six weeks we would call each other on the telephone and make dates to walk through the city together. I would make her laugh which would bring out that smile. That was all I ever needed to feel like I was in heaven. I grew crazier about her by the day, and just when it seemed that I would have an aneurysm and die from pressure I asked her to be my one and only. In case you were wondering, she said yes.
It was in the beginning of this relationship that our love was really forged. I had been working as a staff writer for rolling stone when it first started up. It had become an instant hit overnight and I was lucky enough to be along for the ride. My job had awarded me with a lot more money than I was used to, and I was able to afford a bigger more comfortable and inviting apartment. When I got it I made sure it was big enough for two, and she moved in with me as we rolled into our sixth month of dating. Every day I saw her smile was one more day that I could live, she had become as important to me as the oxygen I breathed. It made my heart swell with warmth when she told me this same thing our first night in the new apartment. I had officially become happy for the first time in my life. All because of her.
After being in the new place for about 3 months she came home with the great news that she had gotten the job she had been trying for, for years. She had been signed on as the new director of creativity at a local, and rather prominent, theater. She had always loved the arts and had even graduated from college with an art history degree. This had brought her into a new world of happiness, as well as money. We decided to start saving for something we might want. Which, one year later, was a trip to Bermuda. Which entailed tanning on the beach, eating fresh seafood at romantic restaurants, and a proposal which became and engagement. When we got back she had a unique glow about her which never seemed to fade even in the later years. The wedding was seven months later. Four months after that we moved into a house outside of the city.
I remember one of the nights of the first few weeks we had been in the new house. I was laying in bed next to her. She was looking at me with her smile beaming her energy into the room. A long time ago before I had even thought about girls, my father told me a story about when he met my mother. He said one day after they had been dating for a while he looked at her, and he said what he saw was the most beautiful sight in the world, and at that moment he knew he was in love. When I asked him what he meant by love he only had one thing to say. “Falling in love is the most important thing you will ever do, and when you do there will be no doubt in your mind that, that is exactly what is going on. The mind doesn’t need to understand when all the heart needs to do is feel.” And this moment was the first moment in my life that I truly understood what he meant when he said that. Nine months later he passed away. Nine months after that night with her our first child was born, a son. I named him Thomas, after my father.
We had three more kids after Tom, who now is a creative writing and romantic literature professor at Leslie College. Two years later we had Vincent who now looks exactly as I did 30 years ago and is now a CEO of a major marketing firm. One year after him we had Alice. She was just as if not more beautiful than her mother. Our only daughter, she married to a very successful doctor and holds a similar position to her mothers as the creative director at the Smithsonian. She looks just like her mother now and has two kids of her own. Two girls; Ellen and Grace. Both are incredibly beautiful girls, just like their mother. And our last was Eric. He now is a famous author with 5 books in circulation and a sixth on the way. Having never been able to write anything myself, after years of trying, I was, and still are to this day, the happiest father in the world.
For my seventy fifth birthday the kids all got the two of us a vacation package to go back to Bermuda to revisit the place where I proposed. I had never in all my years seen a smile so honest and happy as I did that day. I laugh when I think about it. The most beautiful she ever was, in my eyes, was when she was seventy two. Four months later, and two weeks before the trip, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. And it was then, in those fifteen minutes at the doctors office, the dream I had been living for all these years had become a nightmare.
For three years she fought tooth and nail, and for a while it looked as though she was going to pull through. But then, in the last three months of her life she got really bad. She was in chemo all the time, her hair had fallen out and showed no signs of growing back. But through all of it, even when the pain and depression were at their worst, she was always smiling. All she would ever say was she was sorry for ruining the trip. All I could tell her was that Bermuda was simply a place, the vacation was being with her. For three months I barely slept and laid with her at the hospital. And then that day came. The one I’ll never forget.
It’s kind of sad how you remember people. The smells, facial expressions, and for me I always seem to remember what they say before they go. When you develop these kind of habits you look for the ones that stand out, the ones you don’t ever want to forget, the ones you hear right before you fall asleep at night. That was her. I woke up that morning knowing it would be that day. I could see in her eyes that she knew it too. Knowing there was nothing we could do, we did our best to make the most of our last day. We did what anyone would have done, we laid inside holding each other talking about the past. Smiling.
As she was fading out and I could feel she was leaving she said something to me. And I was happy that of all the last statements she could have made, that was it. What she said was; “That first day we met what you said to me was, ‘Excuse me but I noticed you are eating alone, would you mind if I join you? Someone with such a beautiful smile should not have to eat in solitude,’ I memorized those words and I hear them every night before I go to sleep. That was the moment I fell in love with you and decided to spend the rest of my life by your side. I know your upset. I know you’re going to miss me. Just remember that no matter what, my love for you will always be there. As will I, just close your eyes.” As she finished talking her eyes closed and gracefully she passed on. At that moment in time a part of me left along with her. I suppose I’ll get it back when I see her again. Whenever that is.
Four months after this interview Brian Dearborn died of natural causes. He was seventy seven years old. He was cremated and upon his directions his wives ashes, along with his own, were placed in the same container and have been spread under the new construction site of where the diner they first met used to be.
Several weeks after his death I met his son Eric at his newest books premiere signing, he told me the night his father died he, and all his siblings, shared the same dream. The dream was of Brian and his wife in their younger years sitting on a beach in Bermuda sharing a kiss, both with smiles on their faces, both glowing, and both in love.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The pen is truly mightier than the sword.
As the lightning crashes above the battle field a similar clashing occurs below the booming chaos. Swords collide as the remaining soldiers strike down upon each other claiming the lives if their enemies and losing their own in the process. As the terror ensues both on the battle field and in the sky hundreds are killed. After what seems like hours the sides retreat for a time to recover and plan their next attack.
As the rain falls over head a young boy writes his father a letter explaining to him what has changed since he has left to fight for reasons unknown to all but the rich who started this power battle. He writes about his schooling and friends. He mentions his god who as he writes this lays beside him, feeling the sadness of the boy he has not left his side since his fathers departure. As he continues writing the focus of the letter turns to his sadness in his fathers absence. He talks about how he cries at night from the darkness his father, being so far away, can not protect him from. He tells his father of the sounds of crying he hears from his mothers bedroom and the overall look of sadness that has fallen over her face days of late. He tells him of the pain that has corrupted his family, and overturned their lives. Most importantly of all, he tells him he misses him. He tells him him this, as his tears stain the letter.
As darkness looms over a quiet battlefield, a father weeps over fallen friends and finds a letter addressed to him from his son. A face he can no longer remember. A youthful and wondrous warmth he can no longer feel. And he reads. As he reads the tears originally wept from sadness, turn into those of guilt. A man fighting for a cause not his own, is losing what truly does belong to him. He is torn between honor and love. And as he finishes the letter he feels the tears stop. He is not relieved of sadness, but rather drained of the ability to cry. His emotions have been stripped and all that remains is what once was a proud and happy man. He has lost his will to exist. As he decides to give up he drops the letter. On its reverse side he catches something scribbled in ink and looks closer. A short notation has been left for him by his son. "Dad, I love you. If you come home tomorrow, or in three years, I love you. I will never stop and I know that my love will protect you and bring you home. Don't ever forget, and come home OK." His heart is warmed, his tears return.
As a bright and inviting sun shines over a small village, a wife is shopping for that evenings dinner. Her head held low and tears help back on the verge of explosion. A son by her side feeling her sadness and sharing the emotion. The warmth of the sun hits their backs and a gentle breeze massages their faces. As they raise their heads in hopes that the beauty of the day will lift their spirits, a face appears in front of them and the tears they worked so hard to held back come crashing through. A father stands before them home before his time, where he should have been all along.
As the rain falls over head a young boy writes his father a letter explaining to him what has changed since he has left to fight for reasons unknown to all but the rich who started this power battle. He writes about his schooling and friends. He mentions his god who as he writes this lays beside him, feeling the sadness of the boy he has not left his side since his fathers departure. As he continues writing the focus of the letter turns to his sadness in his fathers absence. He talks about how he cries at night from the darkness his father, being so far away, can not protect him from. He tells his father of the sounds of crying he hears from his mothers bedroom and the overall look of sadness that has fallen over her face days of late. He tells him of the pain that has corrupted his family, and overturned their lives. Most importantly of all, he tells him he misses him. He tells him him this, as his tears stain the letter.
As darkness looms over a quiet battlefield, a father weeps over fallen friends and finds a letter addressed to him from his son. A face he can no longer remember. A youthful and wondrous warmth he can no longer feel. And he reads. As he reads the tears originally wept from sadness, turn into those of guilt. A man fighting for a cause not his own, is losing what truly does belong to him. He is torn between honor and love. And as he finishes the letter he feels the tears stop. He is not relieved of sadness, but rather drained of the ability to cry. His emotions have been stripped and all that remains is what once was a proud and happy man. He has lost his will to exist. As he decides to give up he drops the letter. On its reverse side he catches something scribbled in ink and looks closer. A short notation has been left for him by his son. "Dad, I love you. If you come home tomorrow, or in three years, I love you. I will never stop and I know that my love will protect you and bring you home. Don't ever forget, and come home OK." His heart is warmed, his tears return.
As a bright and inviting sun shines over a small village, a wife is shopping for that evenings dinner. Her head held low and tears help back on the verge of explosion. A son by her side feeling her sadness and sharing the emotion. The warmth of the sun hits their backs and a gentle breeze massages their faces. As they raise their heads in hopes that the beauty of the day will lift their spirits, a face appears in front of them and the tears they worked so hard to held back come crashing through. A father stands before them home before his time, where he should have been all along.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Once again, you will be remembered forever
The darkness of your sleep slowly brightens and you groggily roll out of bed, wishing silently to yourself you never had to leave again. As you get ready to go out and walk and think about what has happened unwelcome tears roll down your cheek. There is nothing that will make this loss go away, nothing that will make it not have happened there is only the reality that it is. As you leave the house you can't help but fall to your knees and cry uncontrollably for what feels like hours.
The sun is shining on your face and shines into your heart, but not your eyes. As if someone were keeping them shielded but your mind is elsewhere, and you come across the trees in bloom and the flowers sprouting with colors so pure heaven itself seems to be sub-par. As you walk the sounds of the birds harmonize in a way so beautiful the ears can't help but fall in love, but your mind wanders still. The wind blows gently in your face and open mouth and a sweet taste over comes your taste buds making them dance, but your thoughts are lost within the darkness your heart has leaked. As you turn the next corner you reach your destination. The field where it happened. This is where he died. This is where his heart stopped and you could do nothing but watch as your best friend left you forever. As you lay down in the grass your nose tickles from the sweet scent of the flowers now strangely growing all around where it happened. But your heart is sick with pain and thus your senses have gone limp. You are alone and no amount of anything whether it be the sweetest taste, the most extravagant and gorgeous surroundings, the most beautiful sounds, the warmest sun or the most euphoric scent could ever make this better. If only he were here. And then you feel it and you hear his voice.
My friend, I miss you. My passing has been tough for you. And for that I am truly sorry, but you have been mistaken. I have not left, I am with you as we speak right now. I am with you, in your heart and in all the things around you. You just have to look for it. Your eyes may not see me, but I am alive in beauty you see. Your nose may never know my scent again, but I am alive in things that bring your nose comfort. Your skin my never again feel my embrace, but I am alive in the warmth of the sun. Your ears may never hear my voice again, but I am alive in the music of the world around you. Your mouth may never smile again because of me, but I am alive in the sweetest of tastes and the happiest of times. My friend. My friend who is lost within himself. You have all these things around you to remind you of me and yet you still feel as though I am gone. My friend, your heart may never shine because of me, but I am alive in the friends around you that keep it lit. My friend, those we love never leave. They just become a part of the things we love.
The sun is shining on your face and shines into your heart, but not your eyes. As if someone were keeping them shielded but your mind is elsewhere, and you come across the trees in bloom and the flowers sprouting with colors so pure heaven itself seems to be sub-par. As you walk the sounds of the birds harmonize in a way so beautiful the ears can't help but fall in love, but your mind wanders still. The wind blows gently in your face and open mouth and a sweet taste over comes your taste buds making them dance, but your thoughts are lost within the darkness your heart has leaked. As you turn the next corner you reach your destination. The field where it happened. This is where he died. This is where his heart stopped and you could do nothing but watch as your best friend left you forever. As you lay down in the grass your nose tickles from the sweet scent of the flowers now strangely growing all around where it happened. But your heart is sick with pain and thus your senses have gone limp. You are alone and no amount of anything whether it be the sweetest taste, the most extravagant and gorgeous surroundings, the most beautiful sounds, the warmest sun or the most euphoric scent could ever make this better. If only he were here. And then you feel it and you hear his voice.
My friend, I miss you. My passing has been tough for you. And for that I am truly sorry, but you have been mistaken. I have not left, I am with you as we speak right now. I am with you, in your heart and in all the things around you. You just have to look for it. Your eyes may not see me, but I am alive in beauty you see. Your nose may never know my scent again, but I am alive in things that bring your nose comfort. Your skin my never again feel my embrace, but I am alive in the warmth of the sun. Your ears may never hear my voice again, but I am alive in the music of the world around you. Your mouth may never smile again because of me, but I am alive in the sweetest of tastes and the happiest of times. My friend. My friend who is lost within himself. You have all these things around you to remind you of me and yet you still feel as though I am gone. My friend, your heart may never shine because of me, but I am alive in the friends around you that keep it lit. My friend, those we love never leave. They just become a part of the things we love.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Life Lesson #1
Looking back on everything I have experienced in my small portion of a lifetime I think I have had my fair share of experiences, as far as being 20 goes. I would certainly say that I have fallen a lot more than most, and would certainly not do it the same again. Although without my failures I would never have found some great friends and weeded out some not so great ones. Despite my regrets, which I have quite a few of, I think that I will look back and smile at these days when I am old and my kids ask me why I'm such a miserable prick; if I haven't killed them yet.
What I mean to say with all of this irrelevant pansy non sense is that people all too often seem to remember the bad and let it deteriorate their lives. I don't think this is a good way to live at all. i have always believed that no matter what, you always need to look back with a smile. I still believe that despite my life choices. I may have made things a lot harder for myself in the long run, but that only means I will work harder to get what i want and i will be better for it in the end.
Making the right choices and being a responsible person is what everyone wants to be seen as. However, without kicking up some dust you wont know to close your eyes when it comes. What that means, for those of you too incompetent or 'well off' to understand, if you don't get into trouble every once in a while you are going to fall to pieces later on in life when something goes wrong. Just like everything else in life, you need some practice getting in trouble so you don't cry when you're forty and your boss finds out you weren't really sick last Monday when you called in and were on the big screen of the Sox game that same day. That would just be sad, and he would probably have to fire you just on principle.
This does not mean, of course, that you need to blow up a cop car and steal a baby just so you can be productive in the work place. But some mischief is expected of us and without it there's a certain emptiness we feel in its absence. So for those of you without a bad ass asterisk on your resume for life. Grab some eggs and a Hilary Clinton mask, leave them on your porch for a couple of weeks, get in your car and drive to your bosses house.
WARNING THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS GRAPHIC. THOSE IN THE AUDIENCE WITH AN INSUFFICIENT AMOUNT OF METAPHORICAL TESTICLES OR AN OVER-ABUNDANCE OF MATURITY SHOULD READ CAREFULLY AND LEARN SOMETHING.
Now, when you arrive at your bosses house there are three things you need to do. They are risky, but the end of result is usually worth it. First, yell something obscene pertaining to your bosses lack of sexual adequacy(for Male bosses only) or there is always the old fail safe of "This is for leaving you miserable whore."(for highest humor response be sure to be same sex as boss). After this proceed to throw the eggs at and around the house and do not neglect the front door. It is essential that you make sure when visitors come they smell your mark. Now once this is done people will most likely be awake and watching. After a substantial amount of people are watching be sure to moon your employers house and immediately run like hell towards your car for the police have most assuredly been called and you will not do well in prison.
This concludes our bad-ass lesson for today. I hope you have found this helpful and please refrain from asking me questions. I have little to no desire to speak to you.
What I mean to say with all of this irrelevant pansy non sense is that people all too often seem to remember the bad and let it deteriorate their lives. I don't think this is a good way to live at all. i have always believed that no matter what, you always need to look back with a smile. I still believe that despite my life choices. I may have made things a lot harder for myself in the long run, but that only means I will work harder to get what i want and i will be better for it in the end.
Making the right choices and being a responsible person is what everyone wants to be seen as. However, without kicking up some dust you wont know to close your eyes when it comes. What that means, for those of you too incompetent or 'well off' to understand, if you don't get into trouble every once in a while you are going to fall to pieces later on in life when something goes wrong. Just like everything else in life, you need some practice getting in trouble so you don't cry when you're forty and your boss finds out you weren't really sick last Monday when you called in and were on the big screen of the Sox game that same day. That would just be sad, and he would probably have to fire you just on principle.
This does not mean, of course, that you need to blow up a cop car and steal a baby just so you can be productive in the work place. But some mischief is expected of us and without it there's a certain emptiness we feel in its absence. So for those of you without a bad ass asterisk on your resume for life. Grab some eggs and a Hilary Clinton mask, leave them on your porch for a couple of weeks, get in your car and drive to your bosses house.
WARNING THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS GRAPHIC. THOSE IN THE AUDIENCE WITH AN INSUFFICIENT AMOUNT OF METAPHORICAL TESTICLES OR AN OVER-ABUNDANCE OF MATURITY SHOULD READ CAREFULLY AND LEARN SOMETHING.
Now, when you arrive at your bosses house there are three things you need to do. They are risky, but the end of result is usually worth it. First, yell something obscene pertaining to your bosses lack of sexual adequacy(for Male bosses only) or there is always the old fail safe of "This is for leaving you miserable whore."(for highest humor response be sure to be same sex as boss). After this proceed to throw the eggs at and around the house and do not neglect the front door. It is essential that you make sure when visitors come they smell your mark. Now once this is done people will most likely be awake and watching. After a substantial amount of people are watching be sure to moon your employers house and immediately run like hell towards your car for the police have most assuredly been called and you will not do well in prison.
This concludes our bad-ass lesson for today. I hope you have found this helpful and please refrain from asking me questions. I have little to no desire to speak to you.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Really world, we're gunna do this?
So swine flu is here. AWESOME. And to make things even better, apparently the approved vaccinations don't work against this strain. So now we are taking every precaution to prevent it's spreading. People are ordering masks like crazy, vacations to Mexico are being postponed and canceled, and Northeastern kept their students from shaking hands at graduation...? Listen kids this is the Flu, not Ebola. If I go to introduce myself to someone and they don't shake my hand because I might get Flu cooties, there will be blood.
I understand that this is an illness for which there is no vaccine at the moment. I understand that it has the capability of killing, I understand that it's highly contagious, and I also understand that it is attacking healthy 18-40 year-olds immune systems and creating adverse effects. What I don't understand is why we can't at least pretend that we aren't doomed. I have done an excellent job of keeping my panic attacks to a minimum in public, although when I hear someone cough I do pee a little.
For all of those reading this with no understanding of sarcasm you can relax and stop judging me, I am kidding.
I just feel as though people are taking this way too seriously. There is, of course, some reason to be concerned. But this is the same for all new strains of a disease and hey guys guess what, people are still here. We have yet to become extinct despite years of religious intolerance, a hunger for war, a lack of available resources and an overall addiction to ignorance. So, I think we're going to make it through Miss Piggy coughing on someone. Just relax people. If you feel you're going to cry because of the intense pressure this is putting on you do the world a favor, dig a hole and stay there because you have a stress tolerance of negative 30 and are unfit for society.
Hope you enjoyed it. If not then stop reading and get over yourself
I understand that this is an illness for which there is no vaccine at the moment. I understand that it has the capability of killing, I understand that it's highly contagious, and I also understand that it is attacking healthy 18-40 year-olds immune systems and creating adverse effects. What I don't understand is why we can't at least pretend that we aren't doomed. I have done an excellent job of keeping my panic attacks to a minimum in public, although when I hear someone cough I do pee a little.
For all of those reading this with no understanding of sarcasm you can relax and stop judging me, I am kidding.
I just feel as though people are taking this way too seriously. There is, of course, some reason to be concerned. But this is the same for all new strains of a disease and hey guys guess what, people are still here. We have yet to become extinct despite years of religious intolerance, a hunger for war, a lack of available resources and an overall addiction to ignorance. So, I think we're going to make it through Miss Piggy coughing on someone. Just relax people. If you feel you're going to cry because of the intense pressure this is putting on you do the world a favor, dig a hole and stay there because you have a stress tolerance of negative 30 and are unfit for society.
Hope you enjoyed it. If not then stop reading and get over yourself
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
A loss is never forgotten, A love is never lost
Throughout our lives we all experience a loss of some kind. There are those of us who see very little of it, and the unlucky ones who experience more than they should ever have to. There are those who will tell us that there is an average number of deaths to be seen throughout ones life, but this could not be farther from the truth. No number of deaths, small or large, is ever going to be average.
The most difficult aspect of a loss is usually seen as letting the person go. However I feel that the true challenge is moving on once they have left. Of course I don't mean leaving them behind and living your life as if they were never a part of it; but rather finding a way to continue with your life even though a part of it is now missing. This is where we all reach that rope none of us can climb.
Something we all seem to overlook is the multitude of other people who are feeling our same pain.
When our friends leave us, they leave all of us. And it is through all of us that we can climb this metaphorical rope. When we become close to someone a part of their soul is intertwined with our own. And it is through this connection that we can feel so strongly about someone. When this person leaves us, their place in our soul is left behind and kept alive through us. Each of us holds a small part of this person, but not a whole. However when all of us whom they touched are together, the pieces of the puzzle are complete and it is as if they were never really gone.
To put this plainly, remembering alone only helps us remember a part of that person. Remembering together allows us to see them in their entirety. Together we will always be able to talk about the laughs shared, pains endured, lessons learned and trouble caused. As long as we are here to remember them, a person can never truly die. To all of you who have lost a loved one, a friend, or even someone you shared no more than one memory with. Remember that they will never truly die so long as you keep them alive in your heart.
The most difficult aspect of a loss is usually seen as letting the person go. However I feel that the true challenge is moving on once they have left. Of course I don't mean leaving them behind and living your life as if they were never a part of it; but rather finding a way to continue with your life even though a part of it is now missing. This is where we all reach that rope none of us can climb.
Something we all seem to overlook is the multitude of other people who are feeling our same pain.
When our friends leave us, they leave all of us. And it is through all of us that we can climb this metaphorical rope. When we become close to someone a part of their soul is intertwined with our own. And it is through this connection that we can feel so strongly about someone. When this person leaves us, their place in our soul is left behind and kept alive through us. Each of us holds a small part of this person, but not a whole. However when all of us whom they touched are together, the pieces of the puzzle are complete and it is as if they were never really gone.
To put this plainly, remembering alone only helps us remember a part of that person. Remembering together allows us to see them in their entirety. Together we will always be able to talk about the laughs shared, pains endured, lessons learned and trouble caused. As long as we are here to remember them, a person can never truly die. To all of you who have lost a loved one, a friend, or even someone you shared no more than one memory with. Remember that they will never truly die so long as you keep them alive in your heart.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
There are a lot of regrets that people carry with them for, in some cases, the entirety of their lives. I am not saying that everything should be shared with the world; however living with the knowledge that you are responsible for something and not doing anything to fix it can be fatal. In some cases you may even be wrong. How great would that be? Then there are the people who are very much responsible for their regrets, guilt etc. Screw you guys, you dug your hole. Now grab a latter, climb out and join the rest of us in pretending there's nothing wrong. Then there are those of us who are not responsible for the burden we carry, are aware of this, and still carry it. For us, we have two options. Suck it up and smile, or make the world feel bad for us and thrive off of the pity thrown at our feet. Personally, I feel the former is a much safer approach. Then you don't have to deal with the whole 'self-pity isn't healthy' thing. No, heroine is not healthy. Self-pity is a result of too much attention and the need for more, or the complete and total non-existence of said attention.
Recently I had become aware of a situation where I was nothing more than an observer. By this I mean that I was not involved in what was happening and any issues I had were secondary at most. The situation continued and I became increasingly aware that even though I was not directly effected, someone very close to me was. So I decided to rethink my involvement. This was the moment in my life where i stood up and realized that I was doing something terrible, with the best intentions. Intentions that at the moment, I felt were justifiable and there would be no argument from the other end.
Isn't it funny how even though sometimes you can be one hundred and ten percent sure about something and still get dirt kicked in your face. Just like having a pair of aces on the table and just as you begin to float away, a second pair of twos are set down and your luxury flight becomes that unlucky duck hit by the very lucky hunter. Isn't life just one big great slap in the face.
Ehem, so before I so rudely interrupted myself with a tangent none of us really needed to hear. I was saying that the intentions I had laid before myself were being pillaged and raped by the reactions of the person I had set out to liberate from their unknown situation of badness. In the end, my decision led me to crash and burn and ultimately lose a good friend. Although for the moment it is just one, I fear that after some time has lapsed, there will be more.
So I write this in warning for all you impulsive people. Doing the right thing is always bad. When you get the urge to do good. Slap yourself, and smoke weed.
Recently I had become aware of a situation where I was nothing more than an observer. By this I mean that I was not involved in what was happening and any issues I had were secondary at most. The situation continued and I became increasingly aware that even though I was not directly effected, someone very close to me was. So I decided to rethink my involvement. This was the moment in my life where i stood up and realized that I was doing something terrible, with the best intentions. Intentions that at the moment, I felt were justifiable and there would be no argument from the other end.
Isn't it funny how even though sometimes you can be one hundred and ten percent sure about something and still get dirt kicked in your face. Just like having a pair of aces on the table and just as you begin to float away, a second pair of twos are set down and your luxury flight becomes that unlucky duck hit by the very lucky hunter. Isn't life just one big great slap in the face.
Ehem, so before I so rudely interrupted myself with a tangent none of us really needed to hear. I was saying that the intentions I had laid before myself were being pillaged and raped by the reactions of the person I had set out to liberate from their unknown situation of badness. In the end, my decision led me to crash and burn and ultimately lose a good friend. Although for the moment it is just one, I fear that after some time has lapsed, there will be more.
So I write this in warning for all you impulsive people. Doing the right thing is always bad. When you get the urge to do good. Slap yourself, and smoke weed.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Whether they understand it or not each person has a set list of things they would like to accomplish in their life. This list is edited as time goes on, and eventually you are left with a document littered with check-marks and scribbles, or for those of us with class; white-out. However despite the editing the basic flow never really changes. There are the pipe-dreams, the obvious, the hopes, and of course the 'avoid at all costs'. Being as young as I am the final print of my list has yet to even be drafted. However I have a few things looming around my hope column. One, as I am sure you could have discovered on your own by now, would be to get published one day. I am not exactly trying with all my heart to accomplish that goal seeing as how very little of my writing is finished, even these posts that I leave for you are incomplete. I just write until i start pulling at my hair and gnawing on my arms and legs, and once I draw blood I publish the post. So at this point my writing is not so much to further myself but more to keep myself from becoming deformed, any more than already.
But I always find it interesting to ask people about their dreams and such. The answers are occasionally interesting, although mostly they are just repetitive. An answer that I frequently encounter and one I have grown to hate considerably is; "I don't know, I don't think about these things." ....... This is normally the part where I turn several shades of red and proceed to beat the person in question unmercifully with a phone book, in my head of course.
I suppose it's just me, but I truly believe that a person should have some idea of what they want to establish in their life time. I mean yeah, there are those hidden talents that we don't discover until later on in life, but it's not like everything we do as children and teenagers just leaves us once we enter the real world. Right?
What if, for arguments sake we said that the previous statement was true. How could anyone be productive or successful. We don't just leave college and say, alright time to acquire some skills. What we do is a result of who we are, these things don't just appear. These things are given to us, for the most part, at birth. So stop being nearsighted assholes. Look somewhat to the future, because there's nothing to see in the present that can't be seen in the past.
So for all of you who believe I may some day ask you this question. Think about it. Because the next time I receive an "I don't know" I may very well be carrying a phone book.
But I always find it interesting to ask people about their dreams and such. The answers are occasionally interesting, although mostly they are just repetitive. An answer that I frequently encounter and one I have grown to hate considerably is; "I don't know, I don't think about these things." ....... This is normally the part where I turn several shades of red and proceed to beat the person in question unmercifully with a phone book, in my head of course.
I suppose it's just me, but I truly believe that a person should have some idea of what they want to establish in their life time. I mean yeah, there are those hidden talents that we don't discover until later on in life, but it's not like everything we do as children and teenagers just leaves us once we enter the real world. Right?
What if, for arguments sake we said that the previous statement was true. How could anyone be productive or successful. We don't just leave college and say, alright time to acquire some skills. What we do is a result of who we are, these things don't just appear. These things are given to us, for the most part, at birth. So stop being nearsighted assholes. Look somewhat to the future, because there's nothing to see in the present that can't be seen in the past.
So for all of you who believe I may some day ask you this question. Think about it. Because the next time I receive an "I don't know" I may very well be carrying a phone book.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Inner strength has always been a tell tale sign of a true hero. Of course there are those who think that a hero is someone with a gun, gigantic muscles and the desire to shoot and punch anything within range. And although some of these things might be helpful in a heroic situation, i am speaking on a more profound level. And the previous description doesn't really make it much farther than the surface.
I would define a hero as someone who restores hope to a people. I would say someone children want to grow up to be, but in most cases that is usually a princess or a super spy. So no. Although princess's are really hot. And super spy's, well they're cool. but since neither are real in the way we and Hollywood portray them, they don't really help express my point.
So I would say that a true hero is someone more towards the Martin Luther King Jr. area. Or Gandhi. Not the one that lives in North Andover and hangs out with me, the skinny, peaceful one with glasses.
These people are able to stand in the face of hatred and fear and say no. They provided a voice to the silenced. They truly believed that no matter what was done to them or their people, no matter what happened, they were still victorious in their efforts. And that is what made them heroes.
Now Play some of that inspirational yet climactic montage music and read that part again. it really portrays it nicely.
This post really doesn't have a point, but it was saved in my drafts and I and against the deleting of ideas. So enjoy my trash. And as always, if you don't like it, don't read it. If I was doing this for you every post would just be a giant picture of you wearing a helmet and licking windows.
I would define a hero as someone who restores hope to a people. I would say someone children want to grow up to be, but in most cases that is usually a princess or a super spy. So no. Although princess's are really hot. And super spy's, well they're cool. but since neither are real in the way we and Hollywood portray them, they don't really help express my point.
So I would say that a true hero is someone more towards the Martin Luther King Jr. area. Or Gandhi. Not the one that lives in North Andover and hangs out with me, the skinny, peaceful one with glasses.
These people are able to stand in the face of hatred and fear and say no. They provided a voice to the silenced. They truly believed that no matter what was done to them or their people, no matter what happened, they were still victorious in their efforts. And that is what made them heroes.
Now Play some of that inspirational yet climactic montage music and read that part again. it really portrays it nicely.
This post really doesn't have a point, but it was saved in my drafts and I and against the deleting of ideas. So enjoy my trash. And as always, if you don't like it, don't read it. If I was doing this for you every post would just be a giant picture of you wearing a helmet and licking windows.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I have decided to continue writing the angry letters due to the various forms of enjoyment expressed to me from my readers. However today I am going to mix it up a bit. On the drive home from work today I was thinking about a different form of letter I have been thinking about writing. It is completely serious and I promise not to make any cynical or sarcastic comments throughout the letter. This is something i take very seriously. If you will, use your imagination and read the letter as if it were being read by a young girl. For the effect to make sense. I hope you enjoy it.
Dear Santa,
I know it isn't Christmas time yet but since I have been good all year I was thinking it would be OK for me to write to you now. I know I ask for presents every year and I know you try really hard to make them for me and all the other children with the elves. But this year I want something else. And I want you to read this letter first before everyone else's because it's a tuffy. I am really scared Santa and I know that if anyone can help me it's you.
Mommy and Daddy fight all the time and I think you should fix that first. Mommy says that if Mr. Obamma becomes president that we wont be able to live in our house anymore cuz he wants too much money from us. But daddy says that if Mr. Mccain becomes the president that he will lose his job to the 'Wet Backs'. I don't know who they are but I don't like it when daddy talks about them. Today mommy told me that daddy was going to live with Uncle Mike for a while because him and mommy had a fight and Uncle Mike was gunna make things better. I know that she wasn't telling the truth cuz she was crying, and mommy fibs when she cries.
I don't know what to do Santa. Mommy says we can't go to the park a lot cuz it's too expensive to drive. And daddy wont play with me at Uncle Mikes cuz he has to do work at home now too. He said his boss didn't have enough money for all of Daddy's work friends, so daddy is doing their work for them to save his boss some money. Santa mommy and daddy haven't been very nice to each other. they keep telling me everything will be OK, but I can hear mommy crying at night. And daddy drinks his smelly juice more than he used to. He yells at mommy over the phone a lot, and yesterday he yelled at me too. Santa I didn't want to cry when daddy yelled but i had to. So Santa what I really want for Christmas this year is this. I want you to make mommy and daddy happy again. So first you have to make daddy's job easier and give his friends their jobs back. then you have to tell Mr. Obamma that mommy and daddy cant afford to pay for his taxes. And then you need to tell Mr. Mccain that those people with wet backs that daddy doesn't like, can't have his job and Mr. Mccain needs to make them go back to their homes. And finally you have to make mommy's car not spend so much gas when we drive, or you could make the gas people ask for less money.
Santa all these people are making mommy and daddy not happy and I don't like it. So will you please help me Santa. I don't want mommy and daddy to fight anymore. Can you make all these bad things go away so my parents will love me again?
Love, Hope
Dear Santa,
I know it isn't Christmas time yet but since I have been good all year I was thinking it would be OK for me to write to you now. I know I ask for presents every year and I know you try really hard to make them for me and all the other children with the elves. But this year I want something else. And I want you to read this letter first before everyone else's because it's a tuffy. I am really scared Santa and I know that if anyone can help me it's you.
Mommy and Daddy fight all the time and I think you should fix that first. Mommy says that if Mr. Obamma becomes president that we wont be able to live in our house anymore cuz he wants too much money from us. But daddy says that if Mr. Mccain becomes the president that he will lose his job to the 'Wet Backs'. I don't know who they are but I don't like it when daddy talks about them. Today mommy told me that daddy was going to live with Uncle Mike for a while because him and mommy had a fight and Uncle Mike was gunna make things better. I know that she wasn't telling the truth cuz she was crying, and mommy fibs when she cries.
I don't know what to do Santa. Mommy says we can't go to the park a lot cuz it's too expensive to drive. And daddy wont play with me at Uncle Mikes cuz he has to do work at home now too. He said his boss didn't have enough money for all of Daddy's work friends, so daddy is doing their work for them to save his boss some money. Santa mommy and daddy haven't been very nice to each other. they keep telling me everything will be OK, but I can hear mommy crying at night. And daddy drinks his smelly juice more than he used to. He yells at mommy over the phone a lot, and yesterday he yelled at me too. Santa I didn't want to cry when daddy yelled but i had to. So Santa what I really want for Christmas this year is this. I want you to make mommy and daddy happy again. So first you have to make daddy's job easier and give his friends their jobs back. then you have to tell Mr. Obamma that mommy and daddy cant afford to pay for his taxes. And then you need to tell Mr. Mccain that those people with wet backs that daddy doesn't like, can't have his job and Mr. Mccain needs to make them go back to their homes. And finally you have to make mommy's car not spend so much gas when we drive, or you could make the gas people ask for less money.
Santa all these people are making mommy and daddy not happy and I don't like it. So will you please help me Santa. I don't want mommy and daddy to fight anymore. Can you make all these bad things go away so my parents will love me again?
Love, Hope
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Shameful
For all of you out there sitting at home ready and willing to just drop Tom Brady and move on to Matt Cassell like the sheep you are, I have something to say to you. May death come swiftly. For you are turning your backs on the next messiah. You are leaving behind your faith, your hope and your love for all that is good in this world. And trust me, when this world goes to shit and goes descends from heaven to tell us that only those faithful to the all powerful TB will be accepted, you wont be so eager to turn your backs then, will you sheep? But know this my conformist friends, Every morning our great leader wakes up to the sounds of angels singing, drinks the blood of his enemies and eats pure awesome. But that is not all, his morning constitution is composed of the chemical equivalent of...... what other teams are made of. You may now see him as that guy who used to be the greatest quarter back that ever lived. But you my friends, are wrong. And remember, no matter what happens, no matter what you think and no matter what you see. When the time comes for us to be delivered to our maker, Those of us loyal to the divine Tom Brady will be rewarded, and you... sheep will be lost to the void. Do not forget these words. Sheep.
Seeing as how the angry letters worked so well in their debut i have decided to try them again and see if a return appearance works just as well. If so I am thinking about making them a weekly event. While also, of course, complaining and moaning about how stupid people are. So here is a second set of letters I have composed. However these were written for my own pleasure as opposed for that of someone else.
Dear Gas executives,
First of all I would like to say that I wish very strongly each and every one of you rendered impotent in some horrific chemical accident, of course involving the very gas that has made you bastards rich. Like a very destructive irony. There are not words that can describe the happiness something like that would bring me. My reason for sending you this letter was not, in fact, to write the very vulgar and emotionally agonizing words you so greatly deserve. And even though I have smeared toxic and terribly brutal poisons all over this letter in an attempt to kill you, that is merely a secondary objective. The primary reason for my sending this letter was to pitch a new advertisement idea in which all of the gas companies across the world come together. Imagine, if you will, men standing around a solitary woman in a makeshift circle. Each of the men is wearing a black polo, each bearing the logo of a different companies name. And the woman is wearing a white t-shirt with the word "consumer" written across the chest. She then says politely; "excuse me, I am rather hungry and quite thirsty, do you think you maybe could spare some food and if it's not too much trouble something to drink?" And all at once the men standing around her viciously kick the woman until she is unable to move, take her jewelery, purse, and all other belongings and leave her for dead. I think it is a brilliant idea and I think it portrays your methods very accurately. Take some time to think it over and if any of you remain alive after the poison sets in, please contact me to express your opinion on the matter. Thank you very much.
Sincerely, the harbinger of your doom
Dear America On-Line
I would like you to know that you are doing a great job with keeping people in touch with each other. I use your product often and I have to say that my amount of complaints is minimal. And for those who know me that is not something experienced often by me. However i do have one thing i would like to say to you. What the hell were you thinking with the god damned smileys ass-holes? Are they really necessary? And even on the rare occasion that someone does use them, do you really think they get the job done? Lets take a look at the emotional range of smileys you pricks thought would be useful. For starters we have the winking smiley. i have never felt so uncomfortable in my life as I did when i received one of those. I have never been raped, but thanks to you guys a have a pretty good idea of what it's like. Next we have the crying smiley. Honestly i think this one is a result of getting too close to the winking smiley. Next we have the blushing smiley. What the hell is wrong with this one? It looks like it is sitting on a dryer. Jesus people kids are using these things. You are the people responsible for 13 year old girls starting pregnancy cults. After that we have the happy smiley. This one looks like it just snorted an ounce of Valium, coke, red bull and fun dip. And people wonder where kids learn about drugs. Hidden messages anyone? And finally, since I honestly can't remember anymore not that I think I want to, we have the 'ooh' smiley. Unless i am mistaken that is the universal sign for, "I have no gag reflex". You people make me sick. So go home, think about how much you suck, come back to work, design a more refined group of smileys, and god dammit make a wider variety. There are more then 6 emotions people.
Sincerely, Someone with nothing better to do
Dear Math
First and foremost, stop being such a little bitch. There is no reason you have to be this hard. And honestly, I think it's time to get over the fact that 9 times out of 10, no one is ever going to use you once they leave school. It is just a fact of life. And also, stop making shit up. X will never be larger than any number, want to know why? X isn't a god damned number. You just couldn't get over the fact that you suck, you made a deal with English and now you are making letters into numbers. Well i got news for you jackass, I'm not buying it, so pack up, get on a train going 35 miles an hour to Shut the hell up and figure out how the hell long it will take you to get there ass hole. No one will ever love you as much as lunch, just accept it.
Sincerely, Everyone
Dear Gas executives,
First of all I would like to say that I wish very strongly each and every one of you rendered impotent in some horrific chemical accident, of course involving the very gas that has made you bastards rich. Like a very destructive irony. There are not words that can describe the happiness something like that would bring me. My reason for sending you this letter was not, in fact, to write the very vulgar and emotionally agonizing words you so greatly deserve. And even though I have smeared toxic and terribly brutal poisons all over this letter in an attempt to kill you, that is merely a secondary objective. The primary reason for my sending this letter was to pitch a new advertisement idea in which all of the gas companies across the world come together. Imagine, if you will, men standing around a solitary woman in a makeshift circle. Each of the men is wearing a black polo, each bearing the logo of a different companies name. And the woman is wearing a white t-shirt with the word "consumer" written across the chest. She then says politely; "excuse me, I am rather hungry and quite thirsty, do you think you maybe could spare some food and if it's not too much trouble something to drink?" And all at once the men standing around her viciously kick the woman until she is unable to move, take her jewelery, purse, and all other belongings and leave her for dead. I think it is a brilliant idea and I think it portrays your methods very accurately. Take some time to think it over and if any of you remain alive after the poison sets in, please contact me to express your opinion on the matter. Thank you very much.
Sincerely, the harbinger of your doom
Dear America On-Line
I would like you to know that you are doing a great job with keeping people in touch with each other. I use your product often and I have to say that my amount of complaints is minimal. And for those who know me that is not something experienced often by me. However i do have one thing i would like to say to you. What the hell were you thinking with the god damned smileys ass-holes? Are they really necessary? And even on the rare occasion that someone does use them, do you really think they get the job done? Lets take a look at the emotional range of smileys you pricks thought would be useful. For starters we have the winking smiley. i have never felt so uncomfortable in my life as I did when i received one of those. I have never been raped, but thanks to you guys a have a pretty good idea of what it's like. Next we have the crying smiley. Honestly i think this one is a result of getting too close to the winking smiley. Next we have the blushing smiley. What the hell is wrong with this one? It looks like it is sitting on a dryer. Jesus people kids are using these things. You are the people responsible for 13 year old girls starting pregnancy cults. After that we have the happy smiley. This one looks like it just snorted an ounce of Valium, coke, red bull and fun dip. And people wonder where kids learn about drugs. Hidden messages anyone? And finally, since I honestly can't remember anymore not that I think I want to, we have the 'ooh' smiley. Unless i am mistaken that is the universal sign for, "I have no gag reflex". You people make me sick. So go home, think about how much you suck, come back to work, design a more refined group of smileys, and god dammit make a wider variety. There are more then 6 emotions people.
Sincerely, Someone with nothing better to do
Dear Math
First and foremost, stop being such a little bitch. There is no reason you have to be this hard. And honestly, I think it's time to get over the fact that 9 times out of 10, no one is ever going to use you once they leave school. It is just a fact of life. And also, stop making shit up. X will never be larger than any number, want to know why? X isn't a god damned number. You just couldn't get over the fact that you suck, you made a deal with English and now you are making letters into numbers. Well i got news for you jackass, I'm not buying it, so pack up, get on a train going 35 miles an hour to Shut the hell up and figure out how the hell long it will take you to get there ass hole. No one will ever love you as much as lunch, just accept it.
Sincerely, Everyone
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Angry Letters
Some time ago I was with a friend who was down on her luck and in an attempt to cheer her up and resolve her problem I vowed to write her a series of angry letters with a comedic undertone, posing as her of course. These letters weren't going to be sent anywhere, just to be shared between the two of us. So i finally got around to writing them and was so proud of my work that I decided to share them with whoever felt they could take time out of their 'incredibly busy' day, selfish pricks. So here they are. There are three. And remember I am very proud of them and if you don't enjoy them then you can die, or just not read my blog of the former doesn't fit into your very busy life. Jerks.
Dear Nazi’s…. I mean Gatorade
I have recently come to the conclusion that you have felt it necessary to discontinue a certain flavor of your sports drink. Seeing as how you probably discontinue dreams… I am sorry, flavors all to often you most assuredly do not know of which I am referring. But seeing as how every moment I think about you and your company I get ill I will make this quick and get to the point. The flavor you Discontinued was titled Green Apple. A heavenly flavor with the bitter fore taste and the immediate sugary sensation all relative to the most popular fruit there is, apples. I apologize for speaking down to you I just have the feeling that since you are unable to recognize and decent flavor that you may be mentally handicapped. If I am wrong I am afraid my utter disgust for you will not permit me to apologize. If I am right, however, I am afraid all I can say is, ha hahaha haha ha ha ha. So if you are going to take anything away from this letter let it be this. I hope you all are left void of your loins and develop serious and painful illnesses resulting in either death or physical deformity. That is all, burn in hell.
Sincerely, A disgruntled and dangerous consumer
Dear Ben and merely by association, Jerry,
It has come to my attention that you no longer produce the flavor Bovinity Divinity. On your website in your “flavor graveyard” section which was so blandly and obnoxiously named, probably by Jerry. I found your “crypt” in which you list your relinquished flavors and read the ‘eulogy’ for this divine flavor. It was there that you wrote and I quote “was it too sweet or were those little cows simply too cute to eat?” I must say that you both should be ashamed of yourselves for hiring whatever hack writer to compile such a horrid attempt at humor. Ben, I have always found you attractive and to be an all around wonderful person. So it is with a heavy heart that I must say you disgust me I fear that from this point forward I may get sick whenever I think of you. Jerry, I can’t say I am surprised and quite simply I expected no less from a low-life like yourself. I think that it is safe to say that I will never be purchasing another pint, quart or any measurement of you ice cream again, and under the circumstances I think you can for all intents and purposes, eat shit and die.
Thank you for hearing my complaint, a dissatisfied and now former customer
Dear Eric,
I am writing to inform you that due to your lack of sensitivity and caring towards me during my time of weakness, also known as prom season, I have called the Mexican government and informed them of your whereabouts letting them know that you are in this country illegally. They, in turn, have contacted your local citizenship authorities and INS agents will be intercepting you soon. They will then take you to the Mexican border where the US border patrol will escort you to the nearest prison where you will spend a rather large amount of time having eaten several babies in your homeland on top of 3 counts of ‘being a dick’. Just so you are aware you will be subjected to serious amounts of anal penetration by men who will be staring at you hungrily from the moment you arrive at the prison. And for the record had you done the right thing or better yet, the human thing, I very well may have rocked your wild after prom exposing you to pleasures you may never experience elsewhere in life. However since you decided to be a gigantic penis face I believe that you will walk the streets of Mexico never knowing what a real woman can do to you in bed aside from what your local array of female animals can provide you with. Have a wonderful life, and don’t forget that my vagina was probably the only human one you may have ever come into contact with. Enjoy fucking goats, burn in hell.
Most angrily and with immense hatred, the girl that would have ridden you like a baboon in heat, dick weed
Dear Nazi’s…. I mean Gatorade
I have recently come to the conclusion that you have felt it necessary to discontinue a certain flavor of your sports drink. Seeing as how you probably discontinue dreams… I am sorry, flavors all to often you most assuredly do not know of which I am referring. But seeing as how every moment I think about you and your company I get ill I will make this quick and get to the point. The flavor you Discontinued was titled Green Apple. A heavenly flavor with the bitter fore taste and the immediate sugary sensation all relative to the most popular fruit there is, apples. I apologize for speaking down to you I just have the feeling that since you are unable to recognize and decent flavor that you may be mentally handicapped. If I am wrong I am afraid my utter disgust for you will not permit me to apologize. If I am right, however, I am afraid all I can say is, ha hahaha haha ha ha ha. So if you are going to take anything away from this letter let it be this. I hope you all are left void of your loins and develop serious and painful illnesses resulting in either death or physical deformity. That is all, burn in hell.
Sincerely, A disgruntled and dangerous consumer
Dear Ben and merely by association, Jerry,
It has come to my attention that you no longer produce the flavor Bovinity Divinity. On your website in your “flavor graveyard” section which was so blandly and obnoxiously named, probably by Jerry. I found your “crypt” in which you list your relinquished flavors and read the ‘eulogy’ for this divine flavor. It was there that you wrote and I quote “was it too sweet or were those little cows simply too cute to eat?” I must say that you both should be ashamed of yourselves for hiring whatever hack writer to compile such a horrid attempt at humor. Ben, I have always found you attractive and to be an all around wonderful person. So it is with a heavy heart that I must say you disgust me I fear that from this point forward I may get sick whenever I think of you. Jerry, I can’t say I am surprised and quite simply I expected no less from a low-life like yourself. I think that it is safe to say that I will never be purchasing another pint, quart or any measurement of you ice cream again, and under the circumstances I think you can for all intents and purposes, eat shit and die.
Thank you for hearing my complaint, a dissatisfied and now former customer
Dear Eric,
I am writing to inform you that due to your lack of sensitivity and caring towards me during my time of weakness, also known as prom season, I have called the Mexican government and informed them of your whereabouts letting them know that you are in this country illegally. They, in turn, have contacted your local citizenship authorities and INS agents will be intercepting you soon. They will then take you to the Mexican border where the US border patrol will escort you to the nearest prison where you will spend a rather large amount of time having eaten several babies in your homeland on top of 3 counts of ‘being a dick’. Just so you are aware you will be subjected to serious amounts of anal penetration by men who will be staring at you hungrily from the moment you arrive at the prison. And for the record had you done the right thing or better yet, the human thing, I very well may have rocked your wild after prom exposing you to pleasures you may never experience elsewhere in life. However since you decided to be a gigantic penis face I believe that you will walk the streets of Mexico never knowing what a real woman can do to you in bed aside from what your local array of female animals can provide you with. Have a wonderful life, and don’t forget that my vagina was probably the only human one you may have ever come into contact with. Enjoy fucking goats, burn in hell.
Most angrily and with immense hatred, the girl that would have ridden you like a baboon in heat, dick weed
Monday, September 8, 2008
Is it sad, interesting or just plain wierd?
Late last night while admiring the rather unwelcome heat wave I found myself writing the eulogies of my loved ones. My first reaction was to check myself into a psych ward. Then i realized I don't care in the least bit if I am crazy and I am certainly not going to check myself into a nut house over something that, quite honestly, doesn't bother me in the least bit. Also knowing that it may very well bother the people around me, mainly the people I writing about in the first place, made me feel even better about what I was doing. However this doesn't mean I want any of these people to die. Leave me alone and lose their ability to speak, yes. But not death, that's reserved for people like politicians and girlfriends fathers.
But to resume my rant for the day, I became very aware of things to come and a wave of emotion, however unlikely that may seem, slapped me in the face. Much like the prom queen would if I told her she was a total sellout. Or maybe even a future starter wife/gold digger with no future of her own other than a sad pathetic existence composed of nothing more than the raising of her children. Accompanied by an almost certain divorce from the husband that isn't marry her for love. Just sex. And maybe an alibi. Maybe. If you are reading this and you are, will be or were a prom queen just consider this a warning. For further looks into your future please contact me via email which is posted somewhere on this web-page. For complaints feel free to contact my complaint center at 1-978-382-5968. And for those of you looking for the secret hidden in today's message, open your phone and translate the last 7 digits of the number I just gave you.
After that feel free to continue reading, or if you have been offended there is no pressure. I have no real feelings of regret, or anything else for that matter. So if you are just reading to feed my ego, I am full and you are free to go. For those of you that haven't been weeded out by my rigorous selection system please continue reading below.
Once I finished writing the first, which for those of you that are interested was for my father, I stooped immediately to think about what I had written. I realized by this point that what I was doing was, for lack of a better word, weird. But it told me something. Having written this and not really thinking about it gave me some insight as to how I really felt towards my father. Which up until this point I figured was mild distaste sprinkled with a dash of aggravation and resentment. Although each of the previous feelings are true and still play a part in how i feel about him, I realized something else. I had a lot of wonderful things to say about him. It is very true that upon someones death we all have regrets. So long as we know that person. Unless you were the cause you never really feel bad about someone you didn't know dying. i mean there are exceptions but you get the general idea. And if you don't then leave. I am not sure how you evaded my very precise selection process but go away, you are not worthy of my words.
Anyways. When someone dies we realize all the things we wished we had gotten to do with them while they were alive. We miss the good things and ultimately over look the bad. We revert back to a time where we never said things behind peoples back, or for some to their faces. We become purified, and for that moment think only of good things. Even though it may have a sad or regretful undertone, the things we wish we could have accomplished are all good. So in death we realize all the good in our hearts and even if it is just for that moment we experience forgiveness and love. Death may be one of the most depressing things on this planet, and I will never be one to say otherwise. But in death we realize things about ourselves that we should never forget. it could very well make us better people. We just have to go to a lot of funerals. And if need be a few wakes, but don't over do it. Bad things may happen. Too much of a good thing is bad, it can be catastrophic. Enough death in your life and we are looking at a very large flock of serial killers. And I really don't want that blood on my hands. So relax people, really, just chill out and stop trying to make me look bad. You guys are so selfish, it makes me sick.
But to resume my rant for the day, I became very aware of things to come and a wave of emotion, however unlikely that may seem, slapped me in the face. Much like the prom queen would if I told her she was a total sellout. Or maybe even a future starter wife/gold digger with no future of her own other than a sad pathetic existence composed of nothing more than the raising of her children. Accompanied by an almost certain divorce from the husband that isn't marry her for love. Just sex. And maybe an alibi. Maybe. If you are reading this and you are, will be or were a prom queen just consider this a warning. For further looks into your future please contact me via email which is posted somewhere on this web-page. For complaints feel free to contact my complaint center at 1-978-382-5968. And for those of you looking for the secret hidden in today's message, open your phone and translate the last 7 digits of the number I just gave you.
After that feel free to continue reading, or if you have been offended there is no pressure. I have no real feelings of regret, or anything else for that matter. So if you are just reading to feed my ego, I am full and you are free to go. For those of you that haven't been weeded out by my rigorous selection system please continue reading below.
Once I finished writing the first, which for those of you that are interested was for my father, I stooped immediately to think about what I had written. I realized by this point that what I was doing was, for lack of a better word, weird. But it told me something. Having written this and not really thinking about it gave me some insight as to how I really felt towards my father. Which up until this point I figured was mild distaste sprinkled with a dash of aggravation and resentment. Although each of the previous feelings are true and still play a part in how i feel about him, I realized something else. I had a lot of wonderful things to say about him. It is very true that upon someones death we all have regrets. So long as we know that person. Unless you were the cause you never really feel bad about someone you didn't know dying. i mean there are exceptions but you get the general idea. And if you don't then leave. I am not sure how you evaded my very precise selection process but go away, you are not worthy of my words.
Anyways. When someone dies we realize all the things we wished we had gotten to do with them while they were alive. We miss the good things and ultimately over look the bad. We revert back to a time where we never said things behind peoples back, or for some to their faces. We become purified, and for that moment think only of good things. Even though it may have a sad or regretful undertone, the things we wish we could have accomplished are all good. So in death we realize all the good in our hearts and even if it is just for that moment we experience forgiveness and love. Death may be one of the most depressing things on this planet, and I will never be one to say otherwise. But in death we realize things about ourselves that we should never forget. it could very well make us better people. We just have to go to a lot of funerals. And if need be a few wakes, but don't over do it. Bad things may happen. Too much of a good thing is bad, it can be catastrophic. Enough death in your life and we are looking at a very large flock of serial killers. And I really don't want that blood on my hands. So relax people, really, just chill out and stop trying to make me look bad. You guys are so selfish, it makes me sick.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Can you handle the truth?
I have discovered a rather valuable tool for discovering things about people that you may never find out otherwise. This tool is a question, a question that despite its seemingly harmless composure provides a rather powerful result. However be wary that you may hear things you don't want to know about the person you are speaking to. Be prepared for things you may never have expected. Now that I have provided a sufficient amount of suspense I suppose I can tell you what this magical question is. Are you ready? Do you think you can handle this? Can you feel the pure intensity of the knowledge you are about to receive? Sorry. Here it is.
Consider this situation. You are on a bus, this bus is filled with a wide variety of people including children, elderly, murderers, rapists, humanitarians, members of the peace core and by this point I am sure you get the point. The bus is going to drive off of a cliff, by accident. you and you alone are aware of this. As far as everyone else is concerned this is a normal bus ride and they are all going to make it to their destination on time without any problems. You know who the good people are as well as the bad, you are aware of their crimes and achievements. There is no way for you to stop the bus and if you say anything about the accident the only result will be everyone assuming you are crazy. You do however have the power to take the lives of those around you without causing them pain or their being aware. Now here is the question. What do you do? If you take their lives, whose do you take if any? If not why?
I guarantee you look at the person differently starting the second they answer the question.
Have fun.
Consider this situation. You are on a bus, this bus is filled with a wide variety of people including children, elderly, murderers, rapists, humanitarians, members of the peace core and by this point I am sure you get the point. The bus is going to drive off of a cliff, by accident. you and you alone are aware of this. As far as everyone else is concerned this is a normal bus ride and they are all going to make it to their destination on time without any problems. You know who the good people are as well as the bad, you are aware of their crimes and achievements. There is no way for you to stop the bus and if you say anything about the accident the only result will be everyone assuming you are crazy. You do however have the power to take the lives of those around you without causing them pain or their being aware. Now here is the question. What do you do? If you take their lives, whose do you take if any? If not why?
I guarantee you look at the person differently starting the second they answer the question.
Have fun.
Well here's a surprise
Among the many, many things in this world that make me furious and sometimes even nauseas there is a small collection of things that I enjoy. I must apologize, however, this is probably going to be my shortest post ever. That was a little attempt at humor. And now I am both telling unfunny jokes at my own expense and talking to myself through a diary-like website. If this was a dating site this would be the point where, if you were a girl, you realized that if men like me exist; lesbians are your last hope at happiness. By now you may have realized that I am merely doing this to take up space in an attempt to make me look less depressing when i realize the part about what i enjoy in life, is only about 2 paragraphs long. And now to quote a song that is far before my time and probably far beyond my understanding, let the good times roll.
Writing has always put me at ease no matter what is going wrong in my life. It has a way of putting me at ease much in the same way a warm shower soothes you after a difficult day of work. I have always found some comfort in being able to put a piece of myself into words and occasionally sharing it for the amusement, or better yet aggravation, of others. A large portion of my writing, which i don't do here, is inspired by the books i read. Which is part two of my likes.
Books have always been important to me, and in many ways have made me who I am today. I am relatively picky about the books I read. In my younger years i dabbled in a bit of everything. However it wasn't until I was in eighth grade and I read "Enders Game" by Orson Scott Card that I found my true calling. The book I am referring to is of the science fiction genre. This furthered my interest in this specific area of reading, and later on in my life writing, so I looked a little further into it and expanded my area of enjoyment. I then read the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy by the ever popular J.R.R Tolkien. Who regrettably has been undermined by the also talented Peter Jackson, who did a fantastic job with the movies yet he does not deserve as much credit as he was given and is most definitely not as talented as Mr. Tolkien himself. But that is a rant for another time.
After having read the trilogy I began reading other books of the fantasy genre and discovered i was, in fact. A total nerd. Once I came to terms with this i found the two authors that have inspired almost everything i have written to date, minus all you see here this is 100 percent me and no one else. The two authors I speak of are the inventive John Scalzi and the imaginative Terry Brooks. I was turned on to both, at separate times, by a family member who has a similar taste in literature. I first read "Old Man's War" by John Scalzi which is a Sci-fi book and i fell in love with the idea, the characters and everything else that came with it. I then read the remaining books in the series and I have become a life-long Scalzi fan. After having read these i began writing stories of my own and i have continued ever since. I then read "Armageddons Children" by Terry Brooks which was a sort of futuristic fantasy book and I am currently reading the second book in the trilogy along with other series he has masterminded. His writing has made me envious of him and has shown me that writing is more than just an ability. It is an extension of your creativity, your being and in some ways your soul.
There are some minor things that I enjoy in this life such as music, so long as it has a message even if that message is that there is no message. I enjoy people in general, much like the court system with me you are great until proven worthless. I also love being able to have people close to me that will here out my very much unnecessary rants and will always sit patiently and intently as I read my latest literary creation. I love being able to make people laugh and to be with people who will do the same for me. Other than that I am a rather cynical person who enjoys the misfortune of others so long as it isn't life altering. Unless, of course, it was deserved in one way or another.
And that my avid readers is all for now. And as always, if you don't like what you see that don't mean shit to me.
Writing has always put me at ease no matter what is going wrong in my life. It has a way of putting me at ease much in the same way a warm shower soothes you after a difficult day of work. I have always found some comfort in being able to put a piece of myself into words and occasionally sharing it for the amusement, or better yet aggravation, of others. A large portion of my writing, which i don't do here, is inspired by the books i read. Which is part two of my likes.
Books have always been important to me, and in many ways have made me who I am today. I am relatively picky about the books I read. In my younger years i dabbled in a bit of everything. However it wasn't until I was in eighth grade and I read "Enders Game" by Orson Scott Card that I found my true calling. The book I am referring to is of the science fiction genre. This furthered my interest in this specific area of reading, and later on in my life writing, so I looked a little further into it and expanded my area of enjoyment. I then read the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy by the ever popular J.R.R Tolkien. Who regrettably has been undermined by the also talented Peter Jackson, who did a fantastic job with the movies yet he does not deserve as much credit as he was given and is most definitely not as talented as Mr. Tolkien himself. But that is a rant for another time.
After having read the trilogy I began reading other books of the fantasy genre and discovered i was, in fact. A total nerd. Once I came to terms with this i found the two authors that have inspired almost everything i have written to date, minus all you see here this is 100 percent me and no one else. The two authors I speak of are the inventive John Scalzi and the imaginative Terry Brooks. I was turned on to both, at separate times, by a family member who has a similar taste in literature. I first read "Old Man's War" by John Scalzi which is a Sci-fi book and i fell in love with the idea, the characters and everything else that came with it. I then read the remaining books in the series and I have become a life-long Scalzi fan. After having read these i began writing stories of my own and i have continued ever since. I then read "Armageddons Children" by Terry Brooks which was a sort of futuristic fantasy book and I am currently reading the second book in the trilogy along with other series he has masterminded. His writing has made me envious of him and has shown me that writing is more than just an ability. It is an extension of your creativity, your being and in some ways your soul.
There are some minor things that I enjoy in this life such as music, so long as it has a message even if that message is that there is no message. I enjoy people in general, much like the court system with me you are great until proven worthless. I also love being able to have people close to me that will here out my very much unnecessary rants and will always sit patiently and intently as I read my latest literary creation. I love being able to make people laugh and to be with people who will do the same for me. Other than that I am a rather cynical person who enjoys the misfortune of others so long as it isn't life altering. Unless, of course, it was deserved in one way or another.
And that my avid readers is all for now. And as always, if you don't like what you see that don't mean shit to me.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Religion and... Conformity?
So I have never and will never claim to be a very religious person. I have never read the bible, My train of thought usually wanders on the rare occasion that I go to church, and praying has always seemed a little much for me. I will never tell someone that having faith or that being religious is wrong and I believe it is wonderful to believe in something. However it is my personal opinion that religion was created to bring hope in times of despair, to give people something to believe in when everything else is wrong, and to bring a ray of light in the darkest of times. To this day in many places it still does that, however it does other things as well. From what I know most religions have a deity of sorts. And usually these higher beings preach forgiveness and love. If this is true, then why is it that since the dawn of time no two people of different beliefs have been able to see each other as equals, instead they fight as enemies. I am, of course, exaggerating and I am well aware that there are people all over of different beliefs and religions that live in harmony together. But there are all too many of those who don't, and i am about fed up with it.
In what church do you hear a priest say that the jews have forsaken us all? In what synagogue have you heard that the Muslims are the epitome of all evil? If you read far enough into any of the original scripts of any religion, you will see all of this. These beliefs may bring hope and peace to the few, but they bring hate and rage to the many. How many of us are guilty of being nervous when we see a person of Arabic composure in an airport? Most people are. i have not flown since before then so I cannot judge, but we all do it. It is wrong, but prejudice and a religious superiority complex tell us it is right. I have abandoned my Christian heritage and taken up an ancient Chinese belief known as Taoism. this tells us that the path to nirvana is through one self, and that the higher being you look to in times of need is found within, not above. I do not intend on trying to sell this to any of you, however i would encourage you to see things through your owns eyes and not how you are told to or even how everyone else sees them. Try thinking for yourself, it's a blast.
That's all. And no, I don't care if you disagree.
In what church do you hear a priest say that the jews have forsaken us all? In what synagogue have you heard that the Muslims are the epitome of all evil? If you read far enough into any of the original scripts of any religion, you will see all of this. These beliefs may bring hope and peace to the few, but they bring hate and rage to the many. How many of us are guilty of being nervous when we see a person of Arabic composure in an airport? Most people are. i have not flown since before then so I cannot judge, but we all do it. It is wrong, but prejudice and a religious superiority complex tell us it is right. I have abandoned my Christian heritage and taken up an ancient Chinese belief known as Taoism. this tells us that the path to nirvana is through one self, and that the higher being you look to in times of need is found within, not above. I do not intend on trying to sell this to any of you, however i would encourage you to see things through your owns eyes and not how you are told to or even how everyone else sees them. Try thinking for yourself, it's a blast.
That's all. And no, I don't care if you disagree.
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