It's because I'm a masochist that I can say this.

"I'd rather the adventure of trouble through truth than the silent guilt of lies."

You'd at least think that, throughout the years, I'd have acquired some tact.

Nope. Just lost what little I had.

My Diplomacy only has points in it because, somehow, I have an outrageously high Charisma. I love Synchronizing my skills.

If that made any sense to you, know that I love you. <3

This post is Unoriginal. Lyrical.

I love music. I absolutely Adore music. I cannot get enough of it.

So, I'll just have to admit to myself right now that, sometimes, this blog won't be originally mine. That, every once in a blue moon I'll drop someone's lyrics in here.

Because they're pretty. Because the song is beautiful, because the message hit home, etc.

Whatever the reasons may be, I'll be dropping some lyrics here every now and again. And I'll just have to accept that.

Fiona Apple - 'A Mistake'

I'm gonna make a mistake
I'm gonna do it on purpose
I'm gonna waste my time
'Cause I'm full as a tick
And I'm scratching at the surface
And what I find is mine
And when the day is done, and I look back
And the fact is I had fun, fumbling around
All the advice I shunned, and I ran
Where they told me not to run, but I sure
Had fun, so
I'm gonna f*** it up again
I'm gonna do another detour
Unpave my path
And if you wanna make sense
Whatcha looking at me for
I'm no good at math
And when I find my way back,
The fact is I just may stay, or I may not
I've acquired quite a taste
For a wellmade mistake
I wanna mistake why can't I make a mistake?
I'm always doing what I think I should
Almost always doing everybody good
Why
Do I wanna do right, of course but
Do I really wanna feel I'm forced to
Answer you, hell no
I've acquired quite a taste
For a wellmade mistake, I wanna
Make a mistake, why can't I make a mistake
I'm always doing what I think I should
Almost always doing everybody good
Why

Writing Projects

So, I've told myself that I don't write enough anymore.

And that, quite frankly, I've only gotten worse rather than better.

So, in order to solve this problem I started a project with two of my friends.

It's a writing project, a little blog where we make characters and write short stories with them. We each make one character, all exchange characters, and write a short story.

Accidental Voodoo Shenanigans

Great Idea, great fun! Can't wait till it's rolling.

But, also, on the side, I've decided I will take random characters I've doodled or drawn before and write a short story for them. Or, at least, a background.

I have a LOT of random 'original' characters. So, I'll be dropping a few in here, all followed by a short story.

Flirtatious Vehicle Escapades

Have you ever flirted with a car?

And I don't mean as in, used the car to flirt. Or actually flirt with the car. Or even flirt within or around the car. I meant flirt while driving your car. Flirt with other cars. Not the drivers, just the cars.

Maybe it's part of my road rage. Maybe I'm a person with some sort of bizarre out look on life. But I love flirting with my car. It's adrenaline pumping. It's mysterious.

Some people race random strangers at stop lights for the victory. For the contest. Because we are all born and raised to want that winning spot at the top. Or, at least we're taught this at some point in life. Told it if even just with a bit of subtlety.

I race them for the car. For the feeling of speed and wanting to impress this other car, if the car is up to my standards. It needs to be a car I love, a car I admire, a car I want. Or else I'll be completely uninterested.

Of course it's been a year or two now since I've raced another car. Since I've 'flirted' with another car.

It's such a disconnection of feeling, of body. It isn't a human being. It's not really flirting, because it's a dangerous thing to do. A lot of people do it out of competition, which raises stress and sometimes can cause anger and frustration. But to me, it felt exhilarating. I loved it. I loved swerving through traffic after another car. Just because the car was beautiful and moving so smoothly and so swiftly through lines of traffic.

The other days, I was put in a position where it felt like me and the car before me were involved in a game of 'Chicken' my lane was closed off and I couldn't see oncoming traffic from over the hill. So I went for it, and as it happens, this other car come down.

It was a beautiful racer. Bright blue, the colour I want my Subaru Impreza wrx. And, although unintentionally, it gave me that adrenaline rush as I swerved out of the way to safety (and safely, of course). It was such an odd moment, such an odd realization, what I had just unwillingly felt and foregone. And how it's such an odd thing to think. I don't need to see a driver. Or think of one. The cars are always just cars. They don't have drivers. They're beautiful and fast and strong and they purr when they race through the streets. Speeds that cut through air.

I'm in love with speed that can cut air....

Red as the Devil's Dick

She was wearing her shades as the doors slid open slowly for her.
It was always almost kind of scary, walking into a closed door without having to push or pull. It still felt like something out of a science fiction movie to her. Even though she had grown up with these automatic doors all her life, the imagery in her head grew.

The glass doors turned the rest of the scene in her head. Twisted it up in a knot and took it to fantasy land. The girl is told she lives there a lot by a person she knows she can trust. Living in Fantasy Land is nice, she thinks as the knot unties in her head.

The once droll supermarket has become a dome, a dome within a dome, within a glass dome. The future, it starts eating up the scene like a slow painting. The trees are strategically placed, rather than aesthetically. That's because, in Fantasy Future Land -the one she thinks up right now- trees are Oxygen vents. Where oxygen sifts softly from small slits and holes placed around what looks to be a tree but is only a replica.

For comfort.... like how amputees sometimes get those prosthetic legs that look like real human legs. Why? We could make them different. We could bend them backwards. We could make them beautifully lavish with elaborate metal in-lays.

Her friend moves over to the desired drink. It's something green, pulpy, liquid and nectarine all at the same time, with chunks of what they say is 'aloe' thrown in. It looks like a Nes Ice Tea in fancy green. Like a Japanese version of Nes Ice Tea in a plastic bottle. But it's this Aloe Vera drink.

It says it's healthy for you. But then again, so do a lot of other things in here. The girl sniffs impolitely. Her nose is runny, her throat dry, her tongue following suit.

The drink is delicious, and it tastes of money. She can taste the five dollars she'd have to pay if they were to buy it.

But she knows that they won't. Those five dollars don't exist and they never need to. She watches her friend and follows, sunglasses still over her blood shot eyes as they stroll the super market.

It's back to being the regular, present time. It's boring, it's cold, full of odd smells that shift from sweet to meaty in a second flat. The supermarket isn't her favorite place. Especially because a lot of people roam it. She likes to go shopping at midnight. But that isn't an option. They aren't shopping, the two girls are browsing.

Now they're slowly making their way to the wine section. They love wine, the two girls. Wine, cheese, cured ham, and ridiculousness. The wine all looks wonderful. Red wines, lambruscos, Sangrias; all of it delicious. They've chosen a proper brand after discussing and comparing alcohol content of other brands.

The bottle, much like the last bottle, makes a show of itself. With a disapearing act. The bottle is out of sight. And, as the girls walk away, out of mind.

Behind shades and within any structure, colors are different. It's the wonderful part about wearing shades. The girl loves wearing shades after driving with her friend. She's free to watch people, to sneak peeks and make up little stories. Sometimes the two friends will whisper about strangers. Making up little stories about their life. Sometimes they giggle, most of the time they truly wonder about the husks of life surrounding them...

Mostly though, by now at least, they've reached the line. Sometimes it's long. Sometimes it's really long.

But, today, there is no line for them.

The Girl can see the portal coming closer. They're walking to the exit, to those magic doors that slide open and make The Girl wonder what else could we do to make things look futuristic?

But before going into Fantasy Land again, a bright colour catches her attention.

The Girl is a fool for bright colours. Rainbows especially. She removes her sunglasses, approaching the item and forgetting about their exit plan. She is now cooing over the item, an innocent admiration. It was cute and looked to be useful.

The Girl's friend approaches her, admiring it also for a second before reminding The Girl that they should be going.

The two friends exit the dull supermarket.

The lady next to the cute item, a worker at the market, watches as the two girls leave. Her expression of dissapointment edging on anger very apparent.

"Everything ok? Did those girls steal something?"

The lady sniffs at the question as she shakes her head.

"Naw, but that girl's eyes were as red as the devil's dick!"

The Molecular Syndrome of a Religion

It is....

It will be about reincarnation.

It is about molecules.

It is about the cycle of all things.

It is about the universal link of unity between all things animate and inanimate.

All things that share the same spark of life.

It is about molecules.

But it'll also be about religions.

About reincarnation.

About spirits.

It is about the knowledge of the ancients and not their ignorance. The knowledge of all living creatures, sentient or not.

That need to find a connection to us all.

If just one.

That is why it is about Molecules.

And why it is about Religion.

And about Reincarnation.

Morpheus, Morpheus, where art thou my Morpheus?

Sometimes I wonder if I want to say Hypno.
I want to sleep....I think....

You see, I'm a lucid dreamer. Hi, it happens. I know I'm asleep most of the time I dream. Sometimes I don't know but regardless my dreams feel like they go on and on for hours, ages, years. I can sleep while asleep and wake up in my dreams the next day.

Sometimes, between intervals, I wake up, look around me, find that the day will be dull and monotone. So I head back to sleep. Finding that you have the ability to continue living in a fantasy is dangerous.

Since that episode I had in San Fran where I wouldn't go to school, wouldn't get out of bed, would really do nothing but sleep for almost a whole week, sleep is something kinda funny to me.

I can go on for days without sleeping only to realize I'm waking up from passing out of exhaustion.

And then, sometimes, I sleep. I sleep for hours, I can sleep for days and continue a strang of one dream, elongate it as much as I please. Liv ein my little fantasy world and tighten or loosen my control over my surroundings as I please.

Only when I loosen my hold for too long do I find myself fully awake, fully rested, and completely unsatisfied. But mostly frustrated. And long hours spent spinning up a wonderful or dreadful story turns to nothing but mush and blended blurred imges in my head.

But sometimes, most of the time, I tend to remember things in perfect vivid colour details.

So, point being, there's a chance I can't sleep because I'm afraid of it. Of getting...stuck. Getting stuck for that week was hell. Good hell. The kind of hell where you get to do anything you want and have no cares or worries.

The kind of hell this 'god' thing describes is NOTHING like true hell.

True hell is lovely, beautifulm tantalising and teasing. It can be sexual, but mostly it's based on ego. And my ego screams swords and fights, dragons, battles, cavalry, ho!


Aaaaaand sometimes I have odd dreams that I know are prophetic, that are answers to questions I've already forgotten I've asked. Or foretellings in images of what is to come in my life or a close one's life.

Maybe, though....I have a serious problem. Sleeping just is not easy. I find myself tired a lot, but unable to sleep. Or tired and sleepy but trying desperately to stay awake.

And then the first wind kicks in. Then the second. And third.

I usually sleep with a razopan or two. Pills put me right into dreamless slumber. But relying on pills sucks.

Yeah...so I haven't slept in two days. Maybe 3-4 hours at some point... But I can't remember anymore.

Memory lapses are part of not sleeping. Your brain feels heavier, you get slower. It's like being tipsy or high, but it's just your body feeling completely unhealthy.

It's what machines must feel like right before they run out of battery.

It's weird but...I feel more...awake when I don't sleep for days. I can't really TALK to people, or interact well with others. But when it comes to writting and talking to people on IM or some such while I'm under the influence of no sleep gettings for daysssssss, I feel like I can take over the world.


Yeah. It's all a lie. I can't really do that. And I'm no cleverer than I was 42 hours ago when I was semi well rested. In fact, I might be a bit clumsier with everything.

But that's why I compare it to being tipsy.


......I started writing in hopes I'd bore myself to sleep at the very least. Or find some conclussion that would make me nod at the screen, smile my half hearted smile, and head to bed in peace.

Obviously, when very sleepy, you tend to day dream more.