Tuesday, September 16, 2003

I burned my finger.

Aside from that, everything is peachy.

Yea.
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Monday, September 15, 2003

Last night I had a strange dream. The setting was a fantasy village that had a high tower in the center of it, a small town square with elevated stage in the south, and in the north a bridge that led off to untold lands. I think on the east side there was a bridge as well.

The mayor of this village was my grandfather. Alot of people I knew from IRL and online were there, includeing a few people from my past that I have not seen in awhile. We were under attack, I believe, by some unknown force. They garrisoned some townspeople with bows and arrows in the tower, and I was one of them- beside me was my first girlfriend, and two of my old schoolmates. I was the commander of the garrison, and my first order was to "Keep your eyes open- sharp, silent, like a hawk".

So from the east they attacked across the bridge- we let out a small volley of arrows. The only way to the other parts of the town was through the first floor of the tower- so their first priority was to break through the garrison.

We fought them for a long time when I went down a ladder from the upper areas of the tower and ran to the town square in the south to give a report to the Mayor. The Mayor greeted me and told me not to worry because some Elves from comeing from a village [it's name I forget- it started with a 'T', something like Trotsinklo] to aid us. He wanted me to run and meet them, and to tell them where our garrison needed the most help.

The town square was full of people I know- Tori, James, Zeh. Ben, James from IRL. Old friends. They were all dressed in sort of fantasy NPC clothes- dresses and normal peasent wear, with some of the more well off ones ordained in beautiful suits or fancy dresses that trailed the floor.

So I ran off and through the first floor of the tower, right as the unknown attacker broke in- I let a shot off right into the forehead of one of them, and grabbed my sword, diceing and sliceing up to the large double door. I closed it again and yelled for someone to help me out.

Tori and Neil came rushing around the corner. Neil slammed a plank of wood onto the door and Tori nailed it as fast as she could. In no time we had refortified the door with some heavy furniture from a nearby house. I thanked them and ran off to the north, the only route the Elves could come from.

Travis was standing there. I asked Travis what he was doing and he said "Waiting for you". I was puzzled, but he told me to follow him- so I did. We met up with the small Elven force who were led by Mei and KittyLynn. One of the soldiers was none other than Gold_Angewoman, other familiar faces dotted the regiment.

I woke up as we started to run twards town and were amubused, a sword killing one of the elves right before blackness envolped me and I opened my eyes.
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Sunday, September 14, 2003

The story of my sister.
Tori wanted to know about my sister, and how we got seperated.

Ask, and in general, you will receive.

Her name is Monique and she is actually my half-sister - daughter of my step-father, Moses. Just to make a statement, I cannot tell you how many dead sisters or brothers I have- or even how many live ones I have. My mother could have had many abortions, and my biological father I know nothing of- he might have gotten married. More than likely he did, heh- but there is only one that I would sacrifice everything I can own for.

The situation of my household was a dire one. My father was bound to fits of rage due to extreme stress and competition at work- he needed none of that, we were stretched out money wise as is. He turned to alcohol to try to relax, but sometimes the alcohol would affect him negetively, causeing him to suddenly become irritated by the normal imperfection of me and Monique- or even sometimes my mother, or our small house.

My mother was saddened by her husbunds emotions, and veiwed me as the only reason that my biological father did not want to be with her- thus it was somehow my fault she was with this volitile man. In general she, herself, was ok, but at times she lashed at me with words that literally shattered me. Things that have warped my senses of care and love ever since. She was.. 'alright', I guess- I cannot really find myself to hate her, but it always felt like I had no mother because she was so distant from her depression. It is like.. I do not hate her, but I do not love her. Like a person you do not know, you just.. do not think about them, feel nothing twards them.

For religious reasons, we did not celebrate any holidays- includeing birthdays. It pains me, really, to say this- but I cannot remember her exact birthdate. I was taught that the day of our birth pales in comparision to the day we die. But- she is 1 and a half to 2 years younger than me. That makes her around 13/14 today.

Sigh. There is so much crap to tell about that time period, but this is just about me and her- so that is what will be told. The sad, sorrowful story of the carfting of my persona I will never tell in full, only pieces are known to the public for now.

Now, my memory starts at around 3- before that it is just sporadic bits of random 'daily' stuff- like me crawling on the floor into the den, or me stareing at the ceiling at night. Stuff like that.

But as soon as my memory does start, I remember my little sister being an integral part. As a baby, my parents would do nothing to her- she was just a baby. However, I was the thing to let your anger out on- the kid who made so many wrongs, he did not matter. I knew that when the time came, Monique would face the same things.. nightmarish ,really.. and I just could not bear to think that.

So I decided that whenever I could, I would take it for her. It was a mix of the childhood dream of being the knight and shining armor.. and the true feeling of being a bigger sibling, even at that young age it gave you a sense of purpose.. that you were the first, and you were meant to guide this younger one along.

It began right before I entered kindergarden. I was barely 5 and the teachers decided that instead of pre-school, that I was just barely old enough to enter kindergarden for that year. My sister was a good ways into the age of three. She was beaten a few nights before my first day of school because she "back talked".. she did not understand because my step father never tried words. Heh, he thought action was the only way when he was drunk. His words hurt alot too, however- so it was a lose-lose situation.

Just to set the general setting for alot of things, since she had grown out of her crib, my parents had bought a cheap bunk bed and we shared a bedroom together. I the top and she the bottom..

That night, she cryed in a way I had never heard before. It made me feel remourseful, regretful- I did not understand such feelings, but all I knew is that I never wanted to hear her in such pain again, because it was hurting me. So the childhood knight in shining armor routine turned into a burning desire to help her- and to try to avoid that horrible feeling that I got whenever she was hurt.

From then on, whenever I could, I would ask my father to take his anger out on me instead of her. He was somewhat of a sadist, so he would gladly do it- he just wanted to teach one of us a lesson, that is all. Maybe it was a problem with superiority- he was the man of the house and he wanted to show how he ruled. I dunno.. these memories do not pain me at all, I remain rather nuetral to them because it was either her or me. All I can remember sometimes is horrible physical and emotional pain. Bleeding sometimes- definately bruised. I could not always be there to be her shield, however- I had school to do. She received enough punishment to make her somewhat screwed up.

Heh. What I mean by this is.. well, let me tell you about something later on that occured when my grandparents took her and me out to eat at McDonalds. She was in a bad mood, and she threw a tantrum. Heh, she ended up punching me in the nose- made me bleed, lol. [My parents asked me why I would not hit back, and I replied "Because she is my little sister". I like to tell that story to people who think I am just a hurtless bastard.. anyway.]

So, maybe I was failing from the beginning.. but we talked whenever we could at night. About things of fantasy, things inane, things serious or things that just mattered for no reason at all. We used to pray to God together to bless us, and to calm our father down- to ease his pain. Also of our mother, we wished her happiness- she even suggested mid-prayer we get her some candy, "because candy makes anyone happy". lol. Yea, everynight I prayed with her from then on, because I knew that if I had faith in God, he would help me because I am one of his children- and I was serveing him whole-souled. I read to her from the bible what I could- my reading skills were, of course, not all that great.. and most of it we definately could not understand. But we were trying to survive on hope, hope that tomorrow would be better. I eveb read her the same stories I was given to learn how to read, and she thought I was so smart because I could read those basic things, lol. Eventually, when I was 7-8, I taught her how to read from the same books. Even then, I was not that great of a teacher in regards to things I was still learning- but I was much better off than when I was 6, yes? I just gave her a push..

Well.. things began to get worse. My father finally fell into total alcoholism, and drug my mother with him. That was the beginning of the end.. they became irrational, fighting with each other consisitantly- before it had been sporadic, but now it was just hell. My mom could find no way to blame her husbund or herself, so she blamed us for all their hardships. By then I had become mature enough to backtalk, but I lacked alot of control- I got hurt alot for 'defending' myself. She, however, began to get worried about ME, lol. It made me kinda happy to know that she and I were watching out for each other, and that if I had only one good friend in the world, it had to be my sister.

In the last few months, we did everything we could to hold each other up. It was enough to hold up, but Monique and I got alot of scars.. enough to make me worry about her to this day.

Finally, my father totally lost his cool and had physically violent sexual intercourse- [I cannot describe it as rape because they were married, but it was like that.] and beat her. Why? I do not know. My mother cannot talk about it, and I have never talked to my stepfather since I was taken away.

We had been hearing all this from the safety of our rooms- scared that he would storm in and hurt us. But he stomped past and out the door in a fury, clothes barely on and cursing my mother out as he went.

I did not know what to do. I was dumbfounded, really. I decided to just check it out- Monique was still scared, so I told her to stay in our room while I glanced out. It was silent. My mom called out for me, and I ran to the bathroom.

She was half naked and bleeding profusely from her face. Bruises lined either arm, blood was dripping on the floor. She told me to call 911.. of course, I did- I almost hyperventilated tho.. heh..

The State seperated us from our parents, and Moses was sent to jail for, from what I know, either 5 years or 10 years. My sister was sent to live with some of my step-fathers reletives, and I with my biological mothers parents.

I was 8.

So, ever since I have been worried about her. I have made several attempts at finding out exactly which reletive she was sent to, but so far have found nothing. I hope that she, out of depression or anger, did not committ suicide. She had a temper problem sometimes too, but I understood why.

So sometimes, late at night, when I have nothing better to do.. I lament over my past, and bathe in a harsh requiem. I miss her, I worry about her- I just want to know that she made it ok, because I barely have.

And that, my friends, is the story of a young boys concern over his little sister and the time they spent together, weathering out the massive storms of life. Within it, you can see a few seeds of my personality beginning to devolp.. and understand why I speak of her so often.

As time passes, I grow ancy really.

Because the possibility of her being dead.. is real. I attempted suicide, and she expierenced alot of the early pain I did. [Altho, the reasons I attempted suicide were due to things after the seperation.. maybe it is just silly paranoia.]

Oh well.. that is most of the story of my sister. I did not go into details about some things, because really- they do not concern you.

Quid me nutrit me destruit.
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Saturday, September 13, 2003

Dum de dum..
You know, my sister had the most beautiful eyes. When she laughed they filled with the whiteness of joy, hope and love. She also had the most beautiful hair- I tell you now that she is the most beautiful young woman on Earth right now. If I could see how she looks now, know who she is now. If only I was there for the important things.

Everyone needs a big brother- especially when you do not have good parents. Maybe I failed her. Even if I did, I tried my best. If I died right now, I would die the death of a man who had no closeure, just because he was never given the chance. These things weigh down on you, those stupid words that were said years ago keep bleeding you down till you are a broken young man with too much future ahead of him and too much past behind you. The Past is just that.. either your greatest hours or your darkest days. There is no in-between.

It is an ocean of grey, with splotches of white and black.. the first time you sailed it, the pain made you want to never go back. And yet, by a stroke of pure luck, things trigger the most painful, the most happy, the most traumatic memories of your life.. without your consent.

I dunno what the point of this post is or was.

Maybe that is what makes it great. It is just thoughts for your enjoyment.

I am bleeding. I need to take care of the wound. Good night.

... there is so much I need to do and yet when I am done with it all I know I will just get more to do... even if I am an old man then.. I am too impulsive.
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Friday, September 12, 2003

Mmm. Anyone ever go on google image search and type in "O_o"

:D
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Thursday, September 11, 2003

And it is back. Twice the speed, twice the memory.

Good stuff, eh?

Longer, most interesting post as longer, more interesting thoughts come.
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Wednesday, September 10, 2003

   Hardly Amusing.
When the drivers for the new motherboard were being installed they started acting jittery.

Turns out I had a basic html virus infecting 29 [non-critical] files.

That would have been ok, but by the time we were able to give them our ok for deleteing those 29 files, whatever they may be [quartine unsuccessful, repair equally so] the end of the work day was upon them.

So maybe today I will get some good news for once. :D

Probably not. -_-
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Monday, September 8, 2003

So I am waiting still for a phone call on the current status of my wounded computer.

I got a CD and two games to bide my time.

Medal of Honor: Frontline rules. It is a bit easy however, up to the last level. It just randomly amps the difficulty up- but that makes it just that much more fun. Weapons wise you get the best. STG44, BAR, Bazooka. Colt. All of the best ones. o.o You get into alot of more.. interesting infilitration scenarios too. =)

Soul Calibur 2 is great. I got the GameCube version and so far I am quite pleased with it. I reccomend it to anyone who enjoys fighting games, obviously- and even those that do not. The graphics are really crisp, the models for the characters and weapons make me cry for joy. ;P

The CD I got was the 2003 Dog Fashion Disco release. They are still Gods.

Get the CD. Download songs from them.

Do whatever you can to hear them or else I will crawl out from under your bed covered in rotten flesh and murder you.

o.o
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Saturday, September 6, 2003

I am afraid I might be gone for a week or so. The fan over my CPU chip busted.

And today I get the news that the motherboard was run hot too many times and that it itself is ruined.

The possibility remains that other hardware items could have been damaged by the heat.

So I will be back at the earliest Wednesday.

But really, count on next weekend or so. Things never work out so perfectly with computers.

I will miss some of you.

Others of you should bug off, damnit!

:P
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Friday, September 5, 2003

Current Music: (We Were) Electrocute by Type O Negetive
I cannot sleep.

Mmmm. Fidgeting quietly in the dark.

Time is so expansive. 100 years from now teenagers my age will just be sitting in the dark and will never be able to understand the depth of today.

September 5th, 1823 mattered to someone. It was a long day to somebody, it was a good day to somebody, it was a personally historical day to some people. But as you mill about doing your various duties that does not really matter.

Yet, tomorrow will more than likely never matter again. No one will think of September 5th, 2003.

But September 5th, 2003 to the people that lived it was a day, even in a minute sense, to remember.

Just like we do not remember the June 2nds of 1514 or the December 21sts of 1654. It would be silly do so.

But, people forget sometimes the depth of it all. So maybe history is not as expansive as it could be- or maybe it cannot be that expansive.

So 100 years ago what did September 5th bring to people. 100 years from now, what will this September 5th bring to people?

September 5th is going to be taken for granted as are most September 5ths.

So will September 6th.

Unless something outstandingly great occurs, something to shake people up.

September 6th, 2003 is not going to matter.

Hmm. So right now will not matter.

Tomorrow I will not be genuinely concerned about what I am writing right now.

This all makes me feel all the more adventurous and rash. Heh.

Cause I could go out September 5th and make it great for myself, even if no one will really care in a few years. Everyone could.

But we are too concerened with school, social activites, television.. to really give time to take some risks that are fun- in a mischevious grin sort of way.

So, even to us, September 5th, 2003 probably will not matter by September 8th, 2003.

That is sort of sad.

Oh well.

A few hours from now, what you just read will not matter to you. =)

Hmm. But you know, as soon as I legally have the power to do as I will, my September 5ths will be great. As will my September 6ths.

Yes, I must do something with my life. I refuse to just die in history with everyone else.

For we are but humans!

And with that we have the freedom of adventure!

Chances, luck, risks, consequences.

It all adds up to excitement.

So come on. Make September 5th, 6th, 7th.

Make it all count to you.

Because if you are self satisfied, then I think that 20 years from now..

It will not matter to you if this day does not count to everyone.

Because it counted for yourself and you did what you wanted.

Yes, that is the true form of how I gain happiness.

So fulfill your obiligations to school or work.

But if you have some free time, make it count.

I know I will.
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