?

Log in

Mike/et.al.'s Journal
 
[Most Recent Entries] [Calendar View] [Friends]

Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Mike/et.al.'s LiveJournal:

[ << Previous 20 ]
Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009
9:15 pm
Without You.
I was going to write a poem here.

I even wrote out part of it.

Then I realized something.

All that needs to be said here is one simple statement:

"I am happier now than I have ever been before. While I am still broke, still jobless, still scraping by, I have never been happier in my life than I am right now."

I will never give you the thank you that you wanted, for the things you think you did for me. But I will thank you for doing the thing you did for yourself, because, in doing so, you made room for me to be happy without you, and you made me realize how little I needed you in the first place, something I should have realized a long, long time ago.
Monday, April 13th, 2009
12:55 am
What Big Cat Are You?
You Are a Cougar
You have more strength than most people, and with it, the ability to inflict a lot of harm.
Your power gives you confidence, and you find leading others to be easy.

You believe that you need to the best, and you are very driven to excel.
Most people immediately admire you, but some people feel very envious of your abilities.
Sunday, February 1st, 2009
8:14 am
I love it.
Sometimes, you just have a really, really good day. Today was one of those days. In fact, last week was one of those days.

It's good to know that the storm's being ridden out when you get a flash of the clear, blue, beautiful sky up ahead.
Friday, January 9th, 2009
4:47 am
An Email.
Ursula emailed me. Actually, has a few times in the past week or two. My responses have been short, for the most part, and not really worth writing home about, so to speak. When she emailed me last night, I intended for my response to be the same as all the others in nature, but it sort of grew. And what it grew into, I think, belongs here as much as in her inbox to rot away, not being understood.

--------------------------

You were worth more than I could ever have imagined, yes.

But that's a two-way street.

The difference is, though, that you destroyed your worth. You abandoned your friends, abandoned your marriage, lied about every word you ever spoke to anyone those last few months, and are in the process of repeating the whole deal over again. That's your choice, you're free to make it, very likely very much like you did with Carlos. Very probably, exactly like Carlos, finding someone online that you prefer and jumping ship without ever telling him why. Kyle was an excuse, after all, a way to take the blame off of the real culprit. And that's alright. It's not to say he's blameless, only that he was as much a victim of you as anyone else.

The difference is that, instead of destroying my worth, I've continued to build it. My castle may take significantly longer to build, but it is of stone and mortar, not sand to be washed away when the tide comes in. Your sandcastles are works of art, sure, but if you're looking to keep one, you'll only end up disappointed. My castle may not be as grand. I don't know yet. It could be very simple, it could be extravagant, and it's anybody's guess at this point where things will go from here. I've been getting more and more job offers, ranging from the rewarding to the dangerous to the lucrative to the adventurous, all waiting for me to finish school. Other offers may even require me to take a couple of months break from school, as they're just too good to pass up. I'm hoping they'll be delayed long enough for me to get through with it all, though.

But, no matter how simple my castle is, even if it never ends up anything more than a child's fort, it will always be there. I don't have to worry about it being washed away by a whimsical turn of the world. I can count on my family, sure. Everybody can do that. But I can also count on the other things I've been building, since long before you left, even some of it with your help. Putting the stones in place takes a long time. And each one may not be perfect, but it will fit right. And I'm willing to wait. You've known I was patient since ten years ago when I met you.

You're looking for the castle of your dreams. You're very good at looking for your dreams. But you keep building your castles out of sand, and you keep destroying them. The waves of your moods' whims crush your job history, your friendships, your relationships. Everything you worked so hard to achieve vanishes in a fraction of the time.

There isn't a thing I can do about it, either, even if I'm a part of one of your sandcastles. There's not a thing Josh can do about it either, and I wish him more luck than Carlos or I had, or any of the others. I hope that one day, you'll stop building sandcastles and start building real castles. But that will involve growing up, and, to be honest, I don't think you even begin to understand what that involves, much though you will protest that fact.

Learn patience. Learn to see beyond the next two months. If not for me, if not even for Josh, at least for yourself. You can dream and build a reality all at the same time, you know. Or didn't Changeling teach you that? That there is a real world that must accompany the world of fairy tales. Without one, the other loses all importance, becomes worthless.

You lied to everyone. To me. To Jason and Jess. To Kyle. Even to your family, who paid for our wedding because they, like I, thought you were happy.

I don't care anymore. In all reality, I should have expected it, and may even have half-expected it. I just thought that I would be further along before your whims carried you away, so that I'd be able to go with you, to help you to start building your real castles to look like your sandcastles. But you didn't wait that long. That's alright, though. That's in the past. That which does not kill us, they say, makes us stronger.

And, for all the hurt, I'm not dead.

And despite the waves, my castle still stands.

The tops of some towers have fallen, certainly. There is a great hole in it, where the foundation--you--was ripped away. But it's still there. And every day, I've been rebuilding it, just as I was building it while you were here. Just, this time, the foundation is not made of sand. I don't know how big the castle will get. I don't know what it will end up looking like. I don't pretend to. But I know that, for it to get anywhere, I have to keep adding stones, one at a time, and I have to mortar them together. I can't just heap up a billion tiny stones by the bucketful and delude myself that they will stay together when the sand dries out.

How long until your next sandcastle crumbles? The last time you tried this sandcastle you're building now, it didn't last more than a couple of years. Will this one last even half as long? Or will you be off to build another before a year's up? I expect you're already thinking of your next sandcastle, knowing you. And that's alright. Your sandcastles are beautiful things. I just hope that, someday, you build a real castle as beautiful as your sand ones. You, and whomever you build it with, will be very lucky.

I just wish I'd been able to finish finding a cement for sand before the tide came.

You keep asking for my thanks in your letters. You believe I should thank you for gracing me with your presence, for doing those things that are expected of a couple, for following through with your half of our plan for our lives, so that I could prepare for the part where I took over the responsibilities to allow you to pursue your dreams. You keep begging for me to thank you for the things you've done for me. But look at what you've done for me, Ursula.

For five long years--was it more? I don't even remember anymore. I know it was at least five--you toyed with me. You kept me firmly in hand, knowing and cultivating my infatuation with you, and destroying my chances for a relationship with anyone else. Yes, of course, I could have walked away. I should have walked away. But even then, from that first moment I met you, you had my heart. We talked about dinosaurs all night long, and I was horrified that I might not see you again before my family reunion stole me away for the weekend. After that, there was never anyone but you. I dated, but everyone I dated I told up front, "If Ursula changes her mind, I'm afraid I love her, and she comes first."

And yet, nothing. For five years, I waited for those hopes and dreams you offered to come true. I doubt you have any idea how difficult that was. I doubt you have any idea how many nights I cried myself to sleep. I know you know about some of them, for they were nights I cried on the phone to you, all those years ago, begging you to at least let me hear you say you loved me. You never did. I even carried Cowbear with me at all times, no matter where I was, or what I was doing. Rain, shine, sleet, snow, work, play, everything. I know where he is. He's one of the very few stuffed animals that still survives in this house.

Eventually, you did decide to give me my chance. Not immediately, no. Even after you'd left Carlos, you decided to find other guys. Maybe they were simply Kyles, meant only to throw Carlos off the scent, to make him think that you hadn't been planning it for months without talking to him and as some subconscious effort to 'spare his feelings' from you disappearing and finding another guy. I don't know. I don't really care. That was years ago, and I'm sure he's moved on with his life. But I did get my chance.

Then, as for all the years before, I did everything in my power to make you happy, to keep you happy. And I thought it was working. It certainly appeared to be working. You came down here. I went up there. We saw each other, we loved each other. You were happy with me. After not very long at all, you moved down here. Yes, moving to the grimy butthole of the universe was a bad idea, in retrospect. I don't like it any more than you do. But there was a reason for being here far greater than any consideration about something as simple as a measly town: it put me close to you. Anywhere on earth would have been heaven with you there, no matter the circumstances.

It always was, until the end.

But I should have known the end would come. And, in a way, I did. It took you so long to say "I love you." You told me that this was just because you were being sure, but apparently you didn't wait long enough to be certain you were sure. It took you six months to say "yes," when I asked you to marry me. I still have that candy heart, I even know exactly where it is still. It's dirty, and pitted, and the words are faded, but they still read, "I do." And the one I asked you with, in no better condition, I had carried in preparation for that moment for a year.

But you did say those words. And you did marry me. Even though there wasn't anything at all about the marriage ceremony that I had even the remotest degree of say in, it was still you, and it was still me. But we were married, and you were smiling. Our picture still sits on top of the TV, and even through the dust I can see your smile. I didn't even get to say how I really felt about you then, but I did write it out, and I still have those words. They were going to be my vows, until your mom assembled the emotionless wedding drivel from the internet and insisted I read it instead, no matter how I felt about it.

"I promise to love you as I've loved you for as long as I've known you. I'll love you when you complain about work. I'll console you when you're sad or homesick. I'll snuggle you when you're cold or lonely. I'll let you poot on me to mark your territory and I'll put up with your fat ninja cat even when he pees on things, because I love you more than anything, and always will."

I haven't ever broken those promises, not any time I've been aware of. I do even still love you, more than anything, even after all this mess. And even though the fat ninja cat is now mine, and doesn't pee on anything anymore, I still put up with him. He sleeps on my side these days, when I sleep, or close by. Sometimes he even asks to sit on my lap, and I let him. He's mine now.

For a year, we were married, and I thought we were happy. I remembered our anniversary, though we were too broke for me to surprise you with anything at the time. You took that as me not loving you. It certainly wasn't, though of course I don't expect that to change your mind. After that, not even two months later, you told me you wanted to sleep with Kyle. Being the fool I am for you, I even said that would be okay, as long as you stayed with me. Just, please, not to leave. You took that as me being afraid of losing a meal ticket. You never even began to think that it was because I loved you so much that I couldn't even conceive what it would be like to lose you, even when you made me so mad that I wished you would go.

And then you said you were leaving, if I didn't fulfill your wishlist in a week. I did everything. I found a job, even though I'd been jobless for two years at your own request, so I could always be available to chauffeur you around whenever and wherever you wanted. I found a house for us. I found homes for all our animals, for when we moved. All of it, seventy-five miles away from here. Within a week. And when I returned from filling your demands, I was told that even that wasn't good enough, that you were leaving anyway. And when you left, you promised me that you would pay the gas, electric, and water bills the next week, with your paycheck. That you would bring them all up to date, and that you would give me a little money to live on. And then you left.

You didn't tell me that you'd left all the bills, every last one of them, fall three months behind. During the week after you left, the cutoff notices for them all showed up. And you never gave me anything after that, despite the fact that you'd left me with only thirty-five dollars that was in the change jar. Had my sister not stepped in to bail me out of the hole you left me in, divorce papers might not have been necessary.

I'm glad I didn't leave school, like you asked me to in that wishlist.

Not only am I still there, I'm still maintaining a 97%. I'm learning far more than I'd dreamed when I first started, though I'm not learning it in precisely the order I'd expected. And though you think it's stupid of me to continue to say so, yes, the reason that I went to school was wholly because of you. Not because I wanted to. Because it would help me to build our castle, so that you could live your dream.

The reason I went was for you.

The reason I stayed was for me.

You want me to thank you for all you've done for me.

After all you've 'done for me,' you have the gall to think that this is your right, to be thanked for doing your job as a wife, for being supportive of me while I worked toward a position from which I could be supportive of you. You want me to thank you for allowing me the opportunity to spend my entire life at your beck and call. You want me to thank you for allowing me to do my very best to find a way to cheer you up when you got mopey, whether it was finding a new game system to play, a new site to play in, singing a song, doing the dishes, cooking for you every day, or doing some stupid dance with the puppies. You want me to thank you for having the privilege of having my heart toyed with for years on end, while you kept me as a backup plan for the event that your relationship might not pan out. You want me to thank you for deigning to give you the chance to get married, even though you say now that you weren’t sure you wanted to.

Everything I ever was, everything I ever loved, I gave to you. Everything I ever did, I did for you. Maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe it wasn’t good enough. But it was me, mind, body, and spirit. Everything I did, I did for you. And you took it, and you destroyed it.

You destroyed my friendships here, because they were always friends of yours. You were always enough for me.

You destroyed my friendships with old friends, by destroying my trust in them, by flirting with them online, or by sleeping with them in real life.

Those old friendships you couldn’t destroy, you tried. Despite your best efforts, Jason and Jess and I still talk as much as we’re able.

You tried to destroy my future, by trying to get me to drop out of school.

You left me jobless, penniless, and a thousand dollars in debt, despite your promises.

You tried to leave the bank account overdrawn, too, despite having told me you’d closed it. If I hadn’t taken care of it, it’d probably still be racking up overdraft charges thanks to your taking two dollars out of it that wasn’t there after you’d supposedly closed it out.

And, astoundingly enough, all that is wholly secondary to the fact that you told me you loved me, you told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, you told me that I was the only man for you, and you told me that you were happy with me… and that each and every word of it all was a lie. You never loved me, because if you did, you’d have been patient. Less than a year. That’s how long I had left in school when you left. Less than a year until the world opened up into a bright, fresh, new place full of every opportunity we could possibly have dreamed of. We could go anywhere in the world that you wanted to go. Anything you wanted, there it would be on a silver platter.

But now…

It’s my world to go visit. And almost anything I want, it will be there. Maybe not on a silver platter, but I know now that it will be there, no matter what route I take. Even my least lucrative offers so far have been enough to show me that. There’s really only one thing that I can’t say for sure will be there, that I wanted more than anything, and that’s for someone who loves me, and that I love in return, to be there with me for it all. I had thought that would be you, and that I’d be helping you to follow your dreams, since you’d helped me to achieve mine.

Maybe I should have dreamed of more than your love.

You want me to thank you, Ursula. But there won’t be a thank you. I can’t thank you for the good things you did, because you brought as much heartache into my life as you did good things. I can’t thank you without at the same time condemning your for your selfishness and childishness in how you treated me. You brought me worlds of happiness I hadn’t previously even dreamed existed, but you also brought me worlds of pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone, ever, and the two go hand in hand with one another every step of the way. For all the happiness our marriage brought me, realizing that it was all a childish lie brought equal sadness. Even completely discounting my reasons for needing your support, and the fact that supporting one another is an integral part of marriage, for every bit of support you gave me, you did your best to offer equal destruction.

To thank you for the good things, I would have to spit upon you for mocking those very same things.

And I won’t ever do that. I haven’t broken that promise to love you, as I always did, even though with that love now also comes a sadness that is nearly equal.

When you left, my castle was nearly destroyed, but it did not fall completely. And while you’ve been gone, I’ve rebuilt it, stronger than ever. And when your sandcastle with Josh or whatever his name is crumbles, that’s okay. Let’s hope he’ll be able to rebuild also. Because I don’t see you building anything but sandcastles until you’ve grown up, and that’s going to take a very, very long time. In some ways, that’s what makes you the most wonderful, beautiful, amazing woman on the planet. In some ways, that’s also what makes you the most terrible demon ever to tear the heart from the chest of a man.

I love you, but I will never thank you for destroying everything that was ever important to me. And if, by some miracle, you ever realize what you did, and that you did actually love me, my castle is rebuilt now. The towers are rising to the sky, one stone at a time, and the pennants are ready to be flown in the wind. But it’s no longer our castle, and even if you decide that everything you ever said to me was not the lie it appears to have been, it will be a long wait before the gates open for you ever again.

You could never have been more wrong than when you told me that nothing in this house is irreplaceable. EVERYTHING in this house is irreplaceable. I would not give up a moment of the memories that my time with you, and in this house, have given me. They have shaped me. They have made me who I am today.

They have not killed me, they have made me stronger.

Strong enough to remember you and not cry anymore.
4:43 am
Another song.
I thought this appropriate. I didn't include it with the above email, though I thought very seriously about doing so. I think not nearly enough people actually pay attention to its lyrics, and the message that they convey. People take it as a love song, and that it's a compliment in the lyrics. It's not, really. It's a song about someone coming to a very blunt realization about the world.

Wonderwall
by Oasis

Today is gonna be the day
That they're gonna throw it back to you
By now you should've somehow
Realized what you gotta do
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do
About you now

Backbeat the word is on the street
That the fire in your heart is out
I'm sure you've heard it all before
But you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do
about you now

And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I would
Like to say to you
But I don't know how

Because maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall

Today was gonna be the day
But they'll never throw it back to you
By now you should've somehow
Realized what you're not to do
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do
About you now

And all the roads that lead you there were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how

I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall

I said maybe (I said maybe)
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall

I said maybe (I said maybe)
You're gonna be the one that saves me (that saves me) 3X
Monday, January 5th, 2009
5:15 pm
I think we all know for whom.
There's a Fine, Fine Line
Avenue Q Soundtrack.

Kate Monster
There's a fine, fine line
Between a lover and a friend;
There's a fine fine line
Between reality and pretend;
And you never know
'Til you reach the top
If it was worth the uphill climb.

There's a fine, fine line
Between love
And a waste of time.

There's a fine, fine line
Between a fairy tale and a lie;
There's a fine, fine line
Between "You're wonderful" and "Goodbye."
I guess if someone doesn't love you back,
It isn't such a crime,
But there's a fine, fine line
Between love
And a waste of your time.

And I don't have the time
To waste on you anymore.
I don't think that you
Even know what you're looking for.
For my own sanity,
I've got to close the door
And walk away...
Oh...

There's a fine, fine line
Between together and not.
And there's a fine, fine line
Between what you wanted
And what you got.
You gotta go after the
Things you want while
You're still in your prime...

There's a fine, fine line
Between love
And a waste of time.
Friday, December 19th, 2008
8:18 pm
Death Notice.
I debated whether or not to put this here, as it's not really something that pertains directly to me, but a few people here know her and ought to be aware.

My longtime friend and loyal minion Jen's mother was diagnosed with a baseball-sized brain tumor a few weeks ago, though it was registered as benign. A seizure she suffered as a result of it's presence roughly a week ago pushed the surgery date up considerably, and she went in to have it operated on last Friday (I believe). Following the surgery, swelling was greater than expected, and her mother never reawakened. She died Monday (again, I believe).

Like I said, there are some of you who know her, to whom the word should be passed along.
4:30 pm
The house is quiet again. Ian flew out this morning, on his way back to Afghanistan.

At least there were three snow days to prevent class from getting in the way of hanging out.
Thursday, November 6th, 2008
10:25 pm
I was right.
Tonight, I received confirmation on something.

The avenue ahead is wide open, and there is nothing to stop me from making it happen.

Now, all I need is a salvage yard to work with and to do more testing.

It is a beautiful thing.
Saturday, November 1st, 2008
9:41 am
I am dead.
I should have slept a long, long time ago. My body says it's tired, but it shakes every time I try to move. Everything's going at once.

They passed me by. Lulu scared one of them, even though she was kenneled. They ran past the house because it scared them. Isn't that the point? Isn't that why they were there? Why did they not come? Because the cobwebs were real, not cotton or nylon?

I found them. The pictures.

Who were they for?

They weren't for me.

I wish they'd been for me.

I found them, the words. You told him. You talked to him. Why didn't you tell me? If you'd just told me like you told him, everything would have been alright. But you never tried just talking to me.

You'll swear you did.

But you didn't.

I trusted you.

I loved you.

I trusted him.

Is this what you wanted?

To destroy my world?

Is this how Carlos felt? Did you give him warning? Or did you simply disappear?

Will Kyle feel the same way, when you tire of him? What of his kid?

What does it matter.

It doesn't.

There's nothing left anymore.

My world is gone.

You've taken every drop of it. Every piece of it. Everything that once was me.

Do you love it as I once did? The things that made me who I was?

Do you think of how I taught you all those games you play?

How I begged you to read the books, and showed you how to find wonder and beauty in them?

They are letters now.

Letters on a page.

There is no great ork warrior. He has no Predator. He has no cyberware.

The samurai are dead, on their own blades.

I cannot help them. I don't want to help them.

The money sits there in the bank. It has a thousand places it should be.

I fixed it.

I can fix anything now.

You even tried to take that away from me. You tried to get me to quit. To leave town, thinking that would save us.

You tried to destroy me wholly.

Why do I go?

Why?

I don't want to.

I don't not want to.

It doesn't remind me of you.

It doesn't matter.

I don't matter.

Do I?

There's nothing left. I can't feel anything.

I go because otherwise, there would be no days. There would be no nights.

If no one knows the number, do days exist? Does time exist? They blur together.

I go because it marks the days.

Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Blur. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Blur.

Sometimes, there are people there in that blur.

My arms are shaking.

My fingers are cold. Only my right fingers. My left fingers are warm.

It's not cold today.

I go because my brain still works.

No, it doesn't work.

It just does. Even though I am dead, I make 98%.

I am dead and on the honor roll.

I can't make my arms stop shaking.

I wore my best shirt last night and no one even saw it. They grabbed the candy and ran. Some said thank you.

I didn't have to turn the porch light off.

He will be back soon. Maybe he can help. Maybe he knows something. Maybe he can fix it. Maybe he will have something for me to use. Maybe advice. Maybe more.

He's been gone so long.

The last one.

The only one.

Then, only family.

Maybe, maybe.

I still wear it.

I mowed the lawn. I mowed with my hands. I mowed with the thing. I mowed with the eater. It is short. I hope in time.

The bitch won't care. It's never in time.

They came. Not many. They took some of the candy. Philip took more. More than the kids. So few. So few. I had hoped for lots.

I had hoped for two.

Hopes die.

Dreams.

I dreamt last night. Last night? Night before. Night before? When there was sleep. I dreamt of screaming for her to stop. To come back. She drove away.

Like you did.

Once, I had a dream. Many times, the dream.

Always, no matter what she did, she could not tempt me. Always, it was yours.

I was glad of that dream.

Now, she drives away. She drives a blue pickup truck. A blue pickup truck? Why? Powder blue, like the sky.

She says I am broken, the dream girl. That there is nothing left.

A candy shell with no chocolate.

Melts nowhere.

Only grows brittle and crumbles.

No one notices.

They came last night.

There was a little devil with a tail longer than he was. She was? I don't remember. I remember a crepe-paper tail. I remember that they didn't take enough candy.

I remember that there were twenty of them.

I haven't seen so many people in months.

I can't go outside.

There are people out there.

They mustn't see me broken.

I must be strong. When I am strong, I will go outside.

I hide. My mower is quiet. It has no motor. I can hide while I mow and no one sees me.

They fear my house. They hurry past it. I hear their feet in the night even now that the sun glares in my eyes and I hear the mothers say, "No, no, not that one."

Maybe it's the screen.

Maybe it's our spider. She's dead now. She's in her web, perfect. I hope she stays there. We brought her there together.

She laid two egg sacs.

The neighbor lady hates her. Hates spiders. I tried to teach her, like I taught you. I showed her spiders. I don't think she listened.

Spiders are gone, too. I remember you when I think of them.

Books. Games. The internet. Pictures.

Pictures.

I found them, long ago. I found them and I thought Philip had put them there by accident. I found them and I thought perhaps they were yours and I thought that was nice.

Who were they for?

Who asked at the library's help desk?

Did it matter?

I don't think it did.

Nothing matters anymore.

Everything is gone.

The only thing left was because of you. You tried to destroy that too.

It doesn't matter. I can pass tests while I am dead.

I can teach people while I am dead.

I can learn while I am dead.

I can solve puzzles while I am dead.

I make things.

The teacher heard me say I was lost.

He says that I am learning faster than the others did.

I pick the hard puzzles. I make them work. They pick the simple puzzles, and guess at the solution of the hard puzzle.

I ask why.

I don't get an answer.

I get I don't know. Then we find an answer. The answer is because the output bit is shifted. The answer is because there can't be two rungs that address the same output.

The answer is "I don't know."

From that, one day, a mech would be built.

I still say that.

I don't care anymore.

I don't want a mech.

I don't care about stomping around in a giant robot.

Long ago, I dreamed of it. I would build one for him. And him. And him. And me.

Now...

There is no him. He is dead.

There is no him.

There is a him, but he is far, far away.

There is no me. I am dead.

I don't want a mech. I don't want a Crinos form. I don't want a magical bow or dagger or armor or a high stealth roll or to be the strong ork. I don't want to puzzle out the traps. I don't want to be the brave samurai.

I am ronin.

I am dead.

My feet have just not stopped moving yet.

My heart is dead. My honor is dead. My arms still move.

They shake. I can't stop them from moving. My chest. It shakes.

I cry.

I can stop that.

I must be strong, so I can go outside.

So I can go to class.

I have to go to class. That is how I know it is today and not yesterday or tomorrow.

I am good at it. I am the best at it. I can see it work before it is there. I don't care about it.

I am good at it. I am the best at it. They never die. I curse myself when they get hurt badly. Dozens come, they beat on them. But I am the best. They never die. I die. I have no armor.

This is how it should be.

They never die.

I am the best. I am the ronin. Perhaps one day I will die forever.

Until then, I have to be the best.

I have to be strong. To help them. To program the logic. To teach them what they have forgotten. To heal them. To protect them. To understand hydraulics.

I remember the pictures.

Hydraulic leaks, tiny. Liquid under pressure.

I remember the warnings.

Test with paper and a magnifying glass. Don't test with your hands.

I remember the pictures.

It cuts. Tiny cuts, deep. Hands swollen. Hydraulic fluid is poisonous. Hand swells up. Hand is sliced to the bone.

It is a tiny liquid knife.

A tiny sting.

I remember the pictures and I wonder if I would care.

I am dead.

Do dead men need hands?

Teachers need hands. Students need hands. Heroes need hands. Friends need hands.

Are you a guy? Why yes, yes I am.

A kid, but together, we save the town. He is tiny. He is young. He is lagging.

He does his job better than I do mine.

I curse myself. Throw faster!

I must be perfect.

I will die with honor.

I must be strong to go outside.

They must not see me shake.

They must not see me cry.

They must not see me worry.

They must not see me starve.

They must see me strong.

They must see me save them.

They must see honor.

I am dead.

But I will be dead with honor.

I am ronin.

I cannot quit until I am dead with honor.

I am not dead with honor.

You took my honor.

You took everything.

You took everything.

You took me.

GIVE ME BACK.

GIVE ME BACK.

GIVE ME BACK>

GPVE me back.


I must be strong.

I will be strong.

I must be strong to go outside.

I will not sleep.

I cannot sleep.

I cannot be late.

I cannot be late for Monday.

Doday ais Blurr.

Tomorrow is Blur.

Tomorrow tomorrow is Monday.

There is class Monday.

I must be strong.

I must understand everything.

I will be strong.

I am dead.

I cannot let that stop me.

I am dead.
Thursday, October 30th, 2008
10:20 pm
I can't.

Every time I think I can, one more thing.

Only six things from the end.

Maybe soon I can give them what they deserve.

Maybe she was right.
Tuesday, October 28th, 2008
9:24 pm
Feeling like Jeffrey.
My Ishmael, p197.

In other news, moved ring to other hand. What's the point of remembering what it means if what it means is being completely ignored? Now, it's a reminder of what once was, and what to watch for in the future.

Why let her hold me back when she's gone?
Thursday, October 23rd, 2008
7:50 pm

Your result for What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test...

Balanced, Secure, and Realistic.

15 Impressionist, 15 Islamic, 15 Ukiyo-e, -17 Cubist, -24 Abstract and 3 Renaissance!

Impressionism is a movement in French painting, sometimes called optical realism because of its almost scientific interest in the actual visual experience and effect of light and movement on appearance of objects. Impressionist paintings are balanced, use colored shadows, use pure color, broken brushstrokes, thick paint, and scenes from everyday life or nature.


People that like Impressionist paintings may not alway be what is deemed socially acceptable. They tend to move on their own path without always worrying that it may be offensive to others. They value friendships but because they also value honesty tend to have a few really good friends. They do not, however, like people that are rude and do not appreciate the ideas of others. They are secure enough in themselves that they can listen to the ideas of other people without it affecting their own final decisions. The world for them is not black and white but more in shades of grey and muted colors. They like things to be aestically pleasing, not stark and sharp. There are many ways to view things, and the impresssionist personality views the world from many different aspects. They enjoy life and try to keep a realistic viewpoint of things, but are not very open to new experiences. If they are content in their live they will be more than likely pleased to keep things just the way they are.

Take What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test at HelloQuizzy

Sunday, October 19th, 2008
4:22 pm
Zee car... eet ees feext.
Monday, October 13th, 2008
10:37 pm
Reasons why dogs are better than women.
-All of the snuggles, none of the PMSing.

-Pleasing them in bed involves letting them flop across your legs as you sleep.

-Nobody complains if you have two or more.

-They make great doorbells.

-Getting a sane woman to wander around the house without a stitch of clothing is a pain in the butt.

-If you have two of them, they don't fight when you invite them both to bed at the same time, nor give you funny looks.

-Should you decide to, it's easy to pick up women with a beautiful dog. Contrariwise, it's very difficult to pick up dogs with a beautiful woman.

-To keep them happy, you run them around the block a couple of times or let them sniff a phone pole. And running around the block doesn't have to be done at some ungodly hour of the morning or specifically for 'health purposes'.

-They don't care what movie you watch, as long as they get the bigger half of the couch.

-They wonder what the hell you're doing on the elliptical almost as much as you do, but don't complain that it makes squeaky noises while they're trying to take a nap on the couch.

-Whether you've been gone for hours or gone for ten seconds, they're always thrilled to see you walk in the door.

-You never, ever have to worry about marrying the wrong dog.

-They don't care where you decide to move, as long as they can go along, so you can make up your mind later.

-They don't flush the toilet, but then, they never use the toilet anyway. This also eliminates bitching about leaving the seat in some specific position. And having to remind them to jiggle the handle on an unfamiliar toilet.

-Dogs don't want you to do the dishes. They want you to give the dirty dishes to them to clean up. But if you do the dishes, they're thrilled, 'cause that means there are more for you to get messy and give to them again.

-No having to explain to the dogs where I'm going, whom I'm going with, or when I'll be back.

-Buying a bag of dog food that'll last a fortnight or more costs the same as going to a relatively cheap nice restaurant.

-Not only do they not care that you eat rice every night, they want it.

-There's nothing quite like cute puppies for cheering you up on a gloomy day.

-When they want attention, they ask for it, instead of moping around because, even though you're busy with something else, you should just inherently -know- that they want a hug or something.

-A licorice jellybean makes their day, all by itself.

-A licorice jellybean doesn't earn you a lecture about how you should know that they don't like licorice.

-You don't have to worry about remembering their birthday, your anniversary, or any other obscure date. (Ursula's been the only one that I've managed this with.)

-If you talk constantly about your ex, they're fine with it.

-If you do stupid dances in the living room with your music cranked up loud, they don't roll their eyes at you, they join in.

-They come to check on you in the bathtub.

-They stay in the kitchen with you so you have some company (and, hopefully, will reward company with whatever you're cooking).

-If you mess up with a cooking experiment, even if you won't eat it, they will.

-They always feel like eating whatever you're in the mood for.

-Puppy kisses always involve lots of tongue.

Sure, there's no sex. But, really, the dogs win out in the comparison.
4:12 pm
Apparently, Ursula's been telling people that I kicked her out, rather than that she left me for my best friend.

I suppose that if that's what it takes for her to feel better about leaving, I don't mind. I can understand how lying to herself and others would be preferable to actually admitting what she did, especially since she did it under the advice of someone dating a dope fiend, from whom she is continuing to take such relationship advice.

I think she forgets that I have far, far more contacts in that town than she will ever realize. I may not know hardly anybody in Podunkville, but I know half of Springpatch.

No matter, though. She can tell it however she likes. It won't help her in the long run.

She's digging her hole, and there's nothing I can do to stop her except to tell her to put down the shovel. I've tried that several times, now it's up to her. It's not so much that I expect her to climb out of the hole on my side of it, so much as that it's sad to see her keeping on digging deeper.

She'll find out where the hole goes soon enough on her own. I don't have to tell her anymore, even though I tried.

Current Mood: disappointed
Thursday, October 9th, 2008
7:49 pm
Two months, five days.
Do you still wear it?
Does it still shine?
I know it's tiny,
But it meant you're mine.

I don't expect that you do.
And I don't mind if it's forgot.
It was a sign of dreams come true,
And now it's clear they've not.

I remember what they meant,
When we first put them on.
Commit each other to willing bondage,
But now, of course, that's gone.

I cannot bring myself to release you,
Even if the effort is token at best.
While titanium may last forever,
What it meant is certainly no test.

But I can't take mine off,
I cannot let myself deny,
That eight long years have happened,
And were dashed in the blink of an eye.

I've always worn such tokens,
Even though they sometimes brought me shame.
Pendant on string and the amber ring,
Even stuffed animals; Cowbear was his name.

But time has passed, the bliss has gone,
You've found better places.
But I don't know how you do it,
Forgetting me while looking at my friends' faces.

I'm learning to forget.
I'm slowly becoming numb.
But I wear it to remember.
To forget would be so dumb.

I must recall, for now and ever,
What that simple band once meant,
And why it does no longer;
To remember is my sole chance to repent.

Those who forget the past are doomed, they say,
To repeat it once again.
I survived this all once,
But to do so again, the chance is slim.

I am a husk of what I once was,
With you gone away.
But though a husk I may be,
I get up every day.

I work my way through the days,
And try not to think of you.
But everything brings thoughts of you,
And the things you used to do.

I don't have to fight for garlic sauce,
If I order pizza pie.
If I sleep in the bathtub,
I don't get the evil eye.

I don't have to worry where my dishes go,
But I try to anyway.
Maybe you're never coming back,
But there are others who wish to stay.

They tell me I should take it off,
That I should stop my talk of you.
That it hurts them to think that they might not compare,
But, often, that's true.

For eight long years, you were by far,
The greatest thing in my life.
You were my love, my breath, my courage,
You were my best friend and my wife.

And though I had no chance,
To save that from it's end,
I did everything I could,
Found job, and house, and friends.

But now you're gone, and I've realized,
No more does it matter,
What you care about, what you want.
Neither former nor the latter.

You loved me once for these things, I'm not about to change them.
If eight long years of knowing is not enough, I'm sorry.
But no matter what you may have wished,
Dishes still are not my main worry.

And with you gone,
I don't have to pretend,
That I care that a few are dirty.
I catch them up when so I feel,
But I'm in no hurry.

Days go by, days go by,
And still I think of you.
Days when I couldn't live my life without you.
But now you're gone, and I still live,
Despite my utmost wishes.
I am still here, though you're not,
Though I miss our times of blisses.

A husk, a shell, I may be,
But there is enough remaining,
For me to grow once again,
Despite your efforts at restraining.

Fuck you, woman!
I still live!
I will not die
At your whim!

But I have to know,
Do you still wear it?
Does it shine, even though it's small?
I know it's tiny, but I still remember...

What it once meant.
Tuesday, October 7th, 2008
9:00 pm
Flying Colors
Passed the second half of the final. End grade: 96%.

No classes 'til Monday!

In car news, need to stop off at an auto parts store to find out whether I need a new battery or just to have my current one charged up. Will do that tomorrow.
Monday, October 6th, 2008
9:18 pm
Grades update.
Not counting the final, but counting the hits I took from two assignments from the day I missed being turned in late (I told you their attendance policy was rough), I have dropped from a 98% to a 95%.

Considering I aced the first half of the final, and will do fine on the second half, I should still be doing really well. I'm expecting my usual 97% total, which I've had in both of the previous two sections and have maintained throughout this section until Monday's missing a day (and the subsequent two late assignments from the day being half-credit).

Not bad at all.

Even if I don't show up for the rest of the final, I can't fail the class.
5:19 pm
Bulk Updates.
-The car is fixed! I found the loose connection and jumping it to get it started and the battery up to full power worked! I'll be taking it in to O'Reilly's tomorrow to get the battery tested, just to be sure, but for now it's mobile!

-Insurance is paid, and cheaper than I was expecting, too. Which is much good. Still broke, but not as broke as I thought I'd be.

-Aced the practical half of my period final exam on Thursday. Academic half is tomorrow (Tuesday).

-My trainer came home with me Thursday, too, so I can build and test nifty circuits and start plotting things.

-My next section in school is hydraulics and pneumatics, so I'll be able to plot better ideas and have longer to think about them. That'll mean that I'll have better, more workable, and probably simpler concepts for Dad's business plan, and I'll be able to devote more time to figuring out how to make a flexible, good-looking, waterproof joint in a little metal animal.

-I met a pretty nice girl the other day. We've been talking a good bit. It's not dating or anything at all yet, but it's a kind of a start. Not sure it'll go anywhere, and I'm not even sure I -want- it to go anywhere at this point, but I'm making sure to take my time and make absolutely sure that things get done right this time. Even if it doesn't, at least it's another friend.

-Gas prices have dropped forty cents in the past week. Still broke, but it's a good trend.
[ << Previous 20 ]
Really not much yet.   About LiveJournal.com