At The End of My Rope

I don’t know what to say anymore or what to do with you. It’s obvious that we want two very different things and despite being close, both of us will always want something different. It hurts to think that I might lose my friend or that my friend might hate me because of something I said or something I did when in truth you’re the last person I ever want to see get hurt by anything.

But it seems that I get hurt more often and half the time I don’t know why or how or when it will happen and its becoming so that I don’t know what to do anymore. There are other girls, girls who would be easier to attain by far and I keep bringing myself back to their greatest flaw—they’re not you.

You might never read this, and I don’t think if you do that I am letting you know anything you don’t already know. I worry about losing you all the time. I worry that I am doing everything the wrong way and that I’ve somehow hurt you and that if I have you’ll never truly be able to trust me.

It worries me, you think you worry, but it really does worry me that you might be hurt too, you’re not the only one who worries about it. (because you said you worried about me) It worries me that you might hold back with me because you don’t want to hurt me or don’t think you can trust me with something. I feel like you don’t deserve to be your friend all of the time and that you’re going to wise up and realize I’m not worth your time and not worth the trouble of talking to or dealing with. I feel like you might start to hate me because I’m depressed or because I’m broken and I’m just too much trouble to have to take that from all of the time because no one wants someone who is pathetic around them. 

And I can’t take not having you to talk to, at least potentially. I hate to say it, but I don’t know what to with myself, I don’t trust myself to keep a clear head half of the time because I know I’m operating in a fog. I don’t see things clearly because of how I am and its really a disability because things that have nothing to do with me in my head seem like they’re all about me. My first thought it to the negative and you have to understand that, I don’t easily see myself in a positive light and when I do see myself in a positive light, I feel guilty for doing so.

But if you do see this, if I link you or you just find it, you have to know I want to be straight with you. I want you to know these things. I don’t mind if everyone else knows them. But this is hard for me, because I still hold onto something that can’t happen and because I still really want you to be my friend.

Senmurv

Taken from Cracked.com

What is it?

The Senmurv is a wolf/eagle hybrid invented, without question, by someone with a dreamcatcher hanging from the rear-view mirror of their pickup truck. Each successful attack deals 1d6 of freedom.

Where it Went Wrong:

The Senmurv is what Toby Keith becomes every full moon, and as such it fails to impress us on every conceivable level. The only thing more ridiculous than picturing this beast clawing feebly through the sky like a Technicolor ValueJet, is imagining it trying to stand upright on two hind legs never meant for the task.

Actually, more ridiculous still is imagining this beast's conception, which apparently involved a wolf, a giant tropical bird and painful screeches from within a cloud of neon feathers.

More Pictures

For Someone Special :P

Sick

So I am pretty sick, not deathly ill but the word Swine Flu has been uttered. Waiting for this whole deal to happen:

Anyway, I haven’t been writing, but I have been planning and that says something. A friend spoke with me this weekend and we talked about our writing endeavors and what we wanted to do and the like. She helped A LOT. So that’s nice.

I did want to show this little tidbit off, its something I am making for a forum Icon. It’s only part of the way done but you get the idea.

It’s going to say CTK.

Brainstorm

Looks like I finally have enough to go ahead with the writing portion of my novel and the like.

There’s still this sort of anxiety I have with going ahead and writing what I need to do, but I think it will pass with time and I really need to get out there and keep working at what I am doing. I need to dig up some of my older books and notebooks and things like that and go through them for some idea on what to do.

Seems like I have some names to make up and other things to change, but we will have to wait and see.

As for now, there is this little tidbit a friend showed me. It relates to the picture that was posted in an older entry.

We Interrupt This Blog…

Well I can’t say that I wanted to try and continue on with something near and dear to my heart, redheads…

Okay, as I was saying, I found this girl on flickr and wanted to share:

American Priorities

What can I say, I was shocked when I heard this and maybe I am a little late but:

When did it become alright for young women to hope on stage at the motherfucking Teen Choice Awards and perform an act which is generally reserved for men in strip clubs? I don’t know how far this little debauchery went, but I’m ashamed that I didn’t see more outrage that this was planned for something shown on a children’s channel.

Flash forward to a few nights ago, Kanye West’s silly outburst at the VMAs, an award show that by all accounts is little more than a mid year dick measuring contest for the music industry. An industry which seems to have for the most part lost the idea of artistry in videos.

Kanye interrupted the show to talk about who he thought should have won and on the internet and all over the media blogs he has been getting blasted for being a cruel heartless bastard. This is only months after Zach Effron releases another set of his ex-girlfriend’s nudes to the highest bidder (Effron is supposed to be a children’s star too) and no one seemed to be upset about it. In fact they all seemed to rush to gather up the nudes.

But Kanye says something on a stage, interrupts an award show and he’s bastard of the year. Where was the outrage the when this shit happened at the Teen Choice Awards? Where were the internet watch dogs when porn of a barely legal girl got passed out?  Kanye didn’t whip his dick out, slap her in the face with it, he didn’t curse and he wasn’t all that rude to her in his verbal tone or the manner of his words (even telling her he did good) but something leads me to believe if he had fucked her, took pictures and posted them online it would have been more acceptable than this.

Although someone posted on another blog that they think all of this was motivated by the fact that she is a woman and he is a man and it perpetuates this male stereotype of the controlling man. Another person on that site claimed it was racially motivated…

I can’t decide, but I would have to say, its not the big fucking deal its made out to be and I am more worried about a sixteen year old girl pole dancing for little girls all over the country to see and Zach Effron peddling his ex out as porn than someone saying a few words on a stage.

Reprint - Rain

Those last two entries were from The Requiem of Time, for those of you reading on Blogspot. People on my account on Wordpress, disregard this little part.

What am I going to post now? Well its not going to be simply a picture day, but I would like to post one:

 

I saw this girl and didn’t realize who it was…its Ashlee Simpson. I would have to say that’s a very dramatic change from when I remember her.

Now, here is a little snippet of the novel – this is from the first one in Chapter Three: Rain -

A beam of light cut through the darkened living room as Holly pushed through the front door of her loft. The side of her body was pressed flush against the door as she fought to free the keys from deadbolt. The entire building was newly renovated; things hadn’t been completely smooth with the move in.

Her front door jammed. It took her body weight to make it budge. The keys would get stuck in the lock and it could take several moments to free them. Over all it wasn’t a bad place, it just had its quirks. She spun the keys away from the wall, then back and pulled them free of the door knob.

The whole place smelled of fresh plaster, paint and lumber. She slapped her hand to the wall searching for the light switch as she slipped out of her heels and kicked them off to the side of the door. With the switch flicked the room was instantly illuminated. She scoffed at her own efforts with the moving process. She’d unpacked only the essentials in the three days since the last of her things had arrived from England.

Great towers of cellophane wrapped cardboard rose up around the room. The boxes were stacked and arranged in such a way that she could make it through the room without having to walk around anything. There were no boxes where her flat screen television hung on the wall and none directly in front of the couch.

But the kitchen table was covered in containers that were filled to the brim with cookware, dishes and nonperishable foods. She’d been too lazy to make the effort to prepare food at home, so it had suited her for the time being to eat out. She made her way through the room, her feet slipping on the smooth tile some as she walked.

As she moved past the television she cupped her hand underneath it hitting the power button. The station was tuned to the BBC, it was too late for her to catch the six o’clock news and she didn’t want to wait for the later showing.

Holly stopped next to the small counter that fenced off the kitchenette. She arched her back forward, bracing her hands against her lower back and trying to stretch. Her back gave a few short pops and then she stopped with a sigh. She undid her shoulder holster, placing the gun upon the counter with the harness still attached.

The news reporter droned on about trouble on Israel’s West Bank as she unfastened her shirt and slung it over the kitchen chair that was still wrapped in cardboard and cellophane from packing. She stood there momentarily in her tank top and examined the wound on her arm. It had already sealed up and even scabbed over to the point it was completely closed. She figured it best to remove the gauze and let it breathe now.

As she went to discard the materials that had dressed the wound the sparkle of the city out her back window caught her eye. Her dinner table was situated right next to the big window and patio she had, the patio itself hung out into the air six stories up and overlooked a prominent Houston neighborhood.

The sun set earlier, a sign of winter’s approached. The sky was already shrouded in darkness when she arrived home that night. But as she stood at the sliding glass door to the back patio she noticed for the first time the distant burning lights of the city and their beauty. Each skyscraper in the distance was only discernable because of the multitude of lights that formed its outline, like a man made constellation.

I might be back here later,

Cardboard Tube Knight

The Nine Levels of Emotional Hell

Every guy hates getting rejected but what's even worse than rejection are the girls that are too nice to just tell you no upfront, that they're not interested. These too nice to hurt you girls are actual the ones that will torture and drag you through all nine levels of hell and leave you as quivering desolate shell of a man.

The 1st level of hell is when they drag you along trying not to hurt your feelings all the while you're feeling ignored or that you’re bothering them.

The 2nd level of hell comes when you ask them about it, they deny it, make up excuses, pretend that everything's cool, all the while knowing in the back of their mind that they aren't attracted to you, and probably never will be. But alas they are just too nice to straight up tell you that, instead they slowly torture you with kindness. You're left insecure and confused not knowing how the read the signals. You ask her out on a date, she accepts. You pay for everything, you share laughs, exchange anecdotes, and like any polished gentleman you don't dare to even try to attempt to kiss her. Instead you simply hold doors, pull out chairs, walk her to her car and/or to her front door. Upon which you give her a hug and bid her goodnight.

The 3rd level of hell starts when you guys go out a few more times all on your dime, she's now laughing more often, getting more comfortable around you. She might even lean her head on your shoulder or accept your arm around her. So you're feeling like everything is going well, and you decide to dispel the ambiguity and tell her how you feel.

The 4th level of hell is when she replies, "look you're such a nice guy but I'm sorry I don't feel the same way, I just want to be friends". And of course it hurts but you carry on, you don't call her anymore often than you did before, except now she's not picking up the phone. She doesn't respond to your text messages and she's never online anymore. You might hear from her again or you might not.

The 5th level of hell is reserved for the the really nice girls you do eventually hear back from. Reluctantly she decides that she's too nice and doesn't want to hurt your feelings so she opts to do the more noble and human thing and continue torture you with kindness. Things will be awkward at 1st but within a few weeks everything will be back to normal.

Thus begins the 6th level of hell, the illusion that everything is okay. She will be closer to you than ever, perpetually leading you on, you may cuddle or even hold hands, but in her mind that's okay because it doesn't mean anything and she's already told you how she feels and expects you to respect that boundary even though she willingly keeps crossing that line.

Now the 7th level of hell comes comes when she starts telling you how wonderful you are, and how you're so sweet, and how any girl would be lucky to have you. And by any girl she literally means any girl, except her. Then eventually she dates some douche bag whom you can't stand, you express to her how you don't think he's the right type of guy for her. She firmly disagrees. She later then proceeds to f*ck his brains out and further more tells you about it. She had too much too drink and of course she calls you, you don't try and take advantage of her but instead do the proper gentlemanly thing get her home, safely in bed. You stay to take care of her, pulling her hair back as she pukes all night long, you help clean her face. And she ends up falling asleep curled up in your arms on the couch. You never really sleep more than an hr or so at a time. You stare at her sleeping in your arms, and you feel like a portion of heaven's grace has been bestowed unto your care. Your happier than you've been in very long time and all seems right with the world.

This euphoria is the 8th level of hell. Its bliss is preparing you for the unimaginable agonizing anguish you are about to experience. After all true hell would could not be as hellish if you weren't allow to taste heaven 1st. Two dicks, three douche bags, and one jerk latter she's still confiding in you. You try to explain to her that she is worth so much more than these losers she's been settling for and that she needs to date a man who will give her the respect and adoration she deserves. Then you explain how much you care about her, and how much she means to you. She shares equal sentiments with you about you.

The 9th and final level of hell comes when you tell her that you love her, that you’re in love with her and that you want to be with her, and she says, "I'm just not ready for a serious relationship right now". You lament and yet again carry on a broken and contrite man having just been spat out by the kindest demon you'll ever meet. Like Lucifer frozen in the lake your heart becomes cold the whole while knowing that you're probably exactly what she needs and you know she's exactly what you want. But you're both stuck in misery because she won't even give you a chance. She would rather have her heart repeatedly stomped by random strangers at a club or men she meets online. She would rather be another man's f*cking bag that your beloved princess. She's willing to constantly give all of herself to a mysterious stranger but won't allow you to care for all of her she's already given you.

You're role in her life can only be compared to that of a bomb defusal specialist by which you can see the threat months before it happens, but not matter how hard you try the bomb always goes off, you're never able to cut the right wire, or flip the right trigger to defuse the situation in time. So you become a forensic scientists picking up the shattered pieces of her tattered life, but before you can completely put it back together again, you've got another bomb to run off and try to defuse. She is not happy because she is not loved, and you are not happy because she won't even try being loved by you. The worst part about when a girl takes you through all 9 levels of emotional hell is you tend to repeat this cycle because you are so utterly broken you are damned to relive the same scenario again and again and again. Until you either find a girl who loves you, or you become the ultimate jerk. I stand by my claim that truly perfect assholes are not born, they are made. The most epic jerks are the ones that were turned from nice guys having been through the 9 levels of emotional hell one too many times.

I don't think that emotional hell is limited to just men, I do believe that woman have their own stages of emotional hell as well. I also think that the biggest bitches are made and not born. I would love a female perspective on what the 9 stages of emotional hell are for women.

Special Messages 3

11. Cardboard Tube Knight- You may not remember this, but I actually remember talking to you in a random thread a lot earlier before we were actually friends (as I consider you at least) and I remember thinking that you had good opinions and I liked how you defended what you were saying, even if I didn't completely agree with you. Anyways, it was ironic how we really started talking recently, and I'm glad too since it was one of the few good things that came out of the situation-edramaz I was having with other people at the time. You're a really serious person in general, which I appreciate because I'm more often serious than not when I really have a conversation with someone. And you have so many opinions and are interesting, so that's really awesome about you as well, plus just being so honest. So I'm glad that we did get to start talking and that you continue to talk with me, even when I sometimes fail at responding (esp. the past few months since I was gone for so much of them). Overall, I think you're a really great person and I hope that we continue talking more <3

I Am Jack’s Return

For those who don’t know, the “I Am Jack Titles” started back in 2005 when I was really big into Fight Club, they are back now because its been too long I would have to say.

Some would say its been a long time since I wrote and actual blog. Others would note that its been an even longer time since I have consistently posted in my blog this long. I had a lot to write, but didn’t want to write it all is I guess what you can take from this.

Started writing the second novel the other day and I remember how hard it was starting the first. What’s amazing is that this is the week Hurricane Ike struck…the same week I started writing before. It’s funny how it all came full circle like that, but that might be my good luck charm.

This week has been marked by good conversation and kind words (which you can see posted in previous entries). What has not marked this week are high word counts and brilliant ideas.

There have been a lot of changes to the second novel, both in structure and scope. But the overall goal remains the same and that is for me to pick up where the first left off, make the story relevant and make the characters true.

One of the shittiest things about many sequels is there isn’t actually anything relevant. When you look at some trilogies, like The Matrix its easy to see that the second movie is largely wasted time and a lot of it could have been incorporated into the third movie. In the movie business, things come in threes so trios are expected if you make certain types of film.

But all too often the trio wears thin by the end.

I am not planning a trilogy because I don’t think I should fit all of this into three books and I don’t like the idea of the trilogy. But I am settling in for the long haul when it comes to the length of continuation.

So here are just a few of the changes I made to the novel this week:

1. We’re going to see an Angel of Love, in fact several Angels will appear
2. The novel will be a three tiered story with each smaller part of the book having its own rise and fall in climax, albeit smaller than the last one.
3. A lot of writings I deemed standalone before are now incorporated into the novel.
4. Half of the Prologue has become the first part of the first chapter.

That’s just a little taste of things. Well I am going to be signing out but here’s a little taste of a picture I picked up today:

Beauty

Just some beautiful pictures:

Dedicate…to a friend :)

Supernatural Season 5

Well my favorite show is back, Thursdays have meaning again. I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who didn’t really have time to see it yet but its off to a big bang of a start. Some of the things I am hoping to see this season are an Archangel, God, more badassness from Bobby and more brotherly love and family issues.

Can’t wait!

Other Special Messages

This was written for me just a little while ago by a friend of mine:

Where should I start. I've been knowing him ever since my noob days, and started talking to him via PMs. I do recall greatly admiring him for his writings, excellent blog, and talent for drawing. The fact that he likes me and considers me a friend can only make me glad, since I wanted to befriend him as soon as we started talking. He is one of the nicest persons I have ever seen, paid me some of the sweetest compliments I ever received, and the very fact that he is there for me when I want to talk is very comforting. He makes me feel happy (and blush, whenever he's saying some nice thing to me). He's also very intelligent, thing that I always liked about him. When talking to him, I can be myself, and feel comfortable. This means a lot to me.

And this was written yesterday:

Like an older brother. Very sweet and will always tell me the blunt truth, and no one can ever understand how much I appreciate him for it. He laughs with and at me, and I'm glad I talk to him.

Special

I got this message today from a very special person and I wanted a chance to save it somewhere that I would be able to find it and keep.

Justin is my best friend on here and has helped me through a lot of tough times, and stood by me even when I've been the worse of myself which I owe him greatly for. He always makes me smile and I know I can trust his advice and I hope his dreams come true

Pseudo-Angry Post Teenage Angst At Its Best

Someone wrote this, I guess they were thinking they would look hardcore:

Tennessee is afraid of me. I've seen its true face. I've felt its pulse. I know which veins and arteries to slash..which weak points to bash in with my twin wrenches of justice and truth. I am righteous. The pigs are scum. Their society is weak. It's only a matter of time before I take action...

Luckily someone responded with this:

Contemplating more silly string attacks on McDonald's are we? The Revolution is on!

I love when people love to talk shit from the comfort of their home about how angry and righteous they are for being different. Its funny to see them get brought down a peg.

GIF Overload

Spent part of last night making gifs and looking for some. Here are a few that came up.

Out of ideas

Well for me, anything I would say right here and all, I am drawing a blank and I want to keep my daily posting regiment so I will post the first post of an RP I did and I think turned out well. Sorry if I get a better idea it will be next post!

Four days ago you received a letter, a letter that pulled you from your respective homes to the mountains of Colorado.

A driving snow had covered Malebranche, Colorado in only a matter of hours. This was not the kind of trouble that the letter had promised. The roads were impassable; the town had trapped all the residents inside.

The town had trapped you too.

At least the electrical lines hadn’t sagged down with ice yet and inside of the Warthog Pub it was warm. Splashes of watery remains from the melted snow formed a trail from the door and the sounds of boots on hardwood floors filled the air.

There was a moderate crowd in the Pub tonight. Mary, the bar tender, was telling stories of her drunken days at the University of Denver. Others had settled in over beer, burgers or nachos to talk about their day’s activities and share a laugh.

But this isn’t the carnage and destruction you were promised. The letter spoke of a demonic blood bath of epic proportions. The only thing epic here seemed to be the cold, the storm outside, and possibly the number of drunken sexual encounters that Mary had.

Malebranche seemed all too ordinary.

With Me

This song, With Me by Sum-41 is pretty much describing some stuff I have pent up in my head. I am shocked they made a song so good, I kind of hated them every since high school. But this is a good song.

Here’s the song:

I don't want this moment to ever end
Where everything's nothing without you
I'll wait here forever just to, to see you smile
'Cause it's true, I am nothing without you

Through it all, I made my mistakes
I stumble and fall, but I mean these words

I want you to know
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'cause I'd bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go

Thoughts read unspoken, forever in doubt
Pieces of memories fall to the ground
I know what I didn't have so, I won't let this go
'Cause it's true, I am nothing without you

All the streets where I walked alone, with nowhere to go
I've come to an end

I want you to know
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'cause I'd bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go

In front of your eyes, it falls from the skies
When you don't know what you're looking to find
In front of your eyes, it falls from the skies
When you just never know what you will find (what you will find)

I don't want this moment to ever end
Where everything's nothing without you

I want you to know
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'cause I'd bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go (I want you to know)
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'cause I'd bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go

Eight Days Till The Apocalypse

Well not actually, but in eight days Supernatural Season 5 premieres and it looks like its going to be a big deal. In honor of that I was looking for some art of the characters, I found this book art for a game and decided to post it:

All of these get larger when clicked…enjoy!

Piano Bar

From his spot at the opposite side of the piano bar he watched her through the shadowy recesses of the crowd. If he could just keep her from staring directly at him there’s be no chance that she would even notice.

His movements placed him just outside the grasp of the light. With each step he pulled the next shadow to himself as if he could call the darkness. Each step fell out of time with the music. The light sound of the grand piano wafted on the air as she played.

With the band accompanying her and the concentration all of this was taking there would be no way she’d ever pick up on his presence. When the distance between himself and the riser where the she and the band played was far enough he stopped to observe.

His back came to rest against the wall and he settled as the sound of her voice flowed back into the music, “In time the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble—they’re only made of clay, but our love is here to stay.”

She was a young girl but there was something similar in her style to that of a Maureen O'Hara or one of the long past stars of yesteryear. Of course he could remember a time when Cleopatra was the hot shit. And long past was a relative thing.

“Girl’s been here since three or four days ago,” came a melodic voice at his side. A small hand touched his shoulder.

He glanced down into the iridescent baby blues of a blonde in a sparkling dress.

Though he’d never seen her face before, he recognized her in an instant, “Dressed well these days, aren’t we Muse?” He clasped the stem of his Martini glass, swirling it once and then downing it in one go.

“Sweetheart, I own this place,” she said. “And the name’s Angel these days.”

He stared down at her without a word and then glanced up to sit his glass on the overhanging trim that lined the wall. With a short sigh he shook the condensation from his fingers and stuffed them into the pockets of his slacks, “What can you tell us about the girl?”

“You mean other than what you can tell at first glance?” asked Angel. “Not much to know, she’s a half-breed and the new Angel of Death.”

He shook his head, “She’s inherited the Pale Horse?”

Angel nodded, “She even renamed it Apples.”

“Gah, what became of Darius?”

“Fell in love, quit a few years back,” Angel answered.

“And she was appointed years later with His ineffable approval? What does He think He’s doing?”

Angel snatched a drink off a passing cocktail tray, “I’d tell you to ask Him yourself but that’d only be if you could find Him.”

“He’d meet me on Sinai or some other allegorical spot if I so desired to speak,” he scoffed. “I don’t.”

“That’s good to know,” Angel said. “Because He’s disappeared.”

Now the man turned to leaned out to look at her, “Well, I must admit, this is a new trick for Him. Can’t say I’m not pleased but how does an omnipresent being disappear?”

“How does a middle-aged Jew walk on water?” she glared at him. “Don’t ask me stupid shit—He’s God, He can do anything.”

“And you’re down here, how did you learn of this?”

Angel chuckled, “I stay in the loop, Gabriel came in here blubbering like a pussy a while back saying he had vanished—didn’t concern me much really, I got my parting gifts when I quit.”

“The club?”

“Money,” Angel said, “And this body, the tits alone have been almost as helpful as the cash.” She paused for a moment, “You wanna feel ‘em?”

He shook his head, “Think I’ll pass, my dear.” His eyes fell on the girl on the stage, she’d started a new song a few minutes back, “What’s her name?”

“She just goes by Dee, the reason why should be obvious.”

He moved from the wall, “I should be going, too much longer and she’ll sense me.” He stopped in front of Angel.

“She already has, but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t have reason to because she’s never even seen you in person,” said Angel.

“Still I should go,” he begins to walk away and then steps back, “Yofiel?” he calls to her. When she looked up he kissed her on the forehead, “Farewell, little sister.”

His steps carried him back through the crowd, tugging the shadows to his will as he moved. And as if he hadn’t taken a step, he felt the familiar tug on his arm.

“Luce…” Angel was right behind him. “Is there a war coming?”

He glanced back, “Certainly looks like it, I hope our Lady Death is ready for it.”

Angel turned toward the stage and she felt him pull his arm from her grasp. Before she could snatch it back the door several feet away was opening and he was outside.

Dee glanced up from her piano as he fled, but only for a moment and she settled back in. her dark girls sliding down to brush at the sides of her cheeks as she played.