Gnawing

Theres something gnawing at me. My head is tearing apart, and my chest has a little spark plug thats slow-roasting everything inside me. Its like a hundred dead people with cold, slow rage are pulling my brain apart in a macabre fury of moans and pain.

Meet Fred

I'm happy today. So is Fred the Smiley :) Unfortunately, because of a freak genetic accident, Fred has no arms, legs, upper body or neck, and so cant do anything about his happiness like I did today. Fred's sad life is all about unrealized expression.




Fred's story will continue shortly. 

The Something or Other.

You hear me, don’t you? My numbed thoughts. My silent cries, my fickle denial. You hear every whisper, every doubt and every ounce of depression. You hear it all. You hear my emboldened pleas, and my fiery hopes that last all too little. You hear them as they die out, and as they reignite anew. I know you hear me. I feel You there. Listening. Loving. Watching. As I fade away, a sad, pointless song, fading away to nothing in the howling noise of this world.

Tonight is the night the lies stop. 

woah

well, fu-huckkk...i'm writing an exam tomorow. :) Wish me luck

Another in-betweener

When you’re in pain, suddenly everything else in the world is so incredibly simple that it doesn’t matter anymore. The thing that’s nagging in your head, the cause of that pain thats consuming every emotion of who you are is the thing that confounds you, and no matter how hard you try to explain in or overcome it, your attempts will always be lame, so long as that pain remains. Hello, vicious circle.

That feeling of hopelessness is perhaps a delusion too. In the end, the only things that help are distractions to the pain and the flow of time. Only these seem to make that the pain eventually bearable. There is no instant anesthetic for this shit, other than death. And now that you’ve felt what a knife-wound feels like, you’re gradually becoming ready to take on a sword.

But its this pain and hopelessness that gets to me. Its difficult not to revel in it, think about it, let it trap you and lose yourself inside it, and then when you wake up, the world has moved on, and you’re just a husk of a dirty, un-showered and forgotten man. And you have to catch up.

What do you hold on to to pull yourself from that whirlpool of dead-end pain? You bring yourself up, but because it feels like you don’t have a reason to keep pulling, and because false hopes and idealistic delusions make you want to try the hopeless mission again, you let go, and again you get lost in that black-hole gravity of pain.

Everything is falling apart, because none of it matters anymore. You want to feel validated, that this pain you’re feeling has an end, and that end can be nothing other than the one you’re imagining, and in the heat of the moment, you’d rather die that have any other objective to that pain. Like a child that’s screaming, lost in his stubbornness that he wants the RED cookie, and no other cookie. He’ll hold his breathe and turn blue until he gets nothing but the red cookie.

And you know there’s a better way. That fact is rubbed in your face every day by know-it-alls, some true, and some fake, by the media, by preachers, by so-called good people, and that makes your frustration even worse. Because for all their convincing-or-otherwise posturing and preening, none of those salvation solutions actually hit home as anything other than some ideological jargon that’s thrown around as opium for the blind. In the end, they have to shut up, and you have to find that “better way” yourself. Find your own translation of the “truth”, that will probably make you wonder why those idiots were advertising it as the wrong thing in the first place.

Its a funny feeling, to miss someone thats with you almost every day.

Circles

Everybodies such a nice person, doing what their told, and when their told it.
Am I wrong for hating the followers? Do I want them to follow me? No. Not at all. Individuality is always such a beautiful thing in people, and its just a bit disappointing when all that potential is held back for the sake of some pretensive trend. No matter how noble or well-intentioned that trend may be, it’ll always only be something to keep people in order and controlled like a flock of sheep. Keep them forgettable and easily manageable. Perhaps it’s the insincerity or ignorance of the follower that goes with following the trend that irritates me. That it’s not a truly informed consent that goes with following that culture or trend. Am I missing something? Am I just mad, and incoherent and pointless in my thoughts? Is this struggling, frustrated mind of mind squirming without any real purpose or greater good? Maybe trends and cultures were put in place to prevent the very state of mind that I’m in now. Is it really such a bad thing, though, for as long as there’s hope of a resolution that will make it all worth it?

I’m too tired to express what I fully want, and I’m too numb to give a shit.

And I get pointlessly philosophical when I’m exhausted. Excuse me while I go sleep.

You know, if I start commenting on current events, my readers will probably explode in number exponentially. Not because my writing style will be any better, but because I’m talking about what people want to hear in the fad of the moment.

Okay. Sleep. That’s what I was gonna do
Adios!
Final exam was quite crap, I gotsta say.

Surgery Exam

Well, wow. I compLETELY fucked my surgery exam.
There were a whole bunch of written exams, and 2 oral exams. The writtens were up and down. One of the Orals was good. The other? MOTHER FUCK!!

I report back how I feel about my exams, because I know u care. Umm.

I mean DAMN. The old profs sit there and tell me I’m not answering their question. When they sit there and give me fucking HINTS about what they want me to talk about. And if I ..ARRRR!! nevermind. Not gonna think about it. I’m gonna have a major piss-up tonight, and enjoy the living hell out of it! Then I’ll study again. Then after my finals next week, I’ll FINALLY get back to writing my book!

AnYWAY, how’re u doing?
Um..i mean. Nevermind.

A Letter to Women

I know what you’re doing.

You’re gently playing me like silly-putty, turning me into the shape that you want. Fine tuning me to be a source of dependence for you. And ur like an open book to me.

You’re creating an emotional need in me, deliberately making me unable to live or breathe without you, using all your wiles and feminine charms. You give me just enough to taste, but not enough to be satisfied, so I keep coming back for more. And when I start getting emotionally attached to a greater and greater degree to you, you sit back and watch my heart and mind squirm as it tries to find peace, in my seemingly futile attempts to be assured that I have you. But I’m not ready for you yet, am I? I’m not quite desperate enough. So you smile at me with your ever-so-understanding eyes, sympathize with my discomfort, and pretending to be on the same boat, all the while continuing with your charms, keeping me wanting more and more, never leaving me a bored moment so I don’t wonder away, your smell always in my thoughts, and your approval always on my mind. Making me do things that I would normally never do without a second thought. Turning me into your play-thing. Into your guarantee that your life will be okay, that it will be stable. Slowly and deliberately turning me into someone that you can be sure will look after you all your life.

And whether I’m Albert Einstein or Adolf Hitler, or the forgotten and unimportant Citizen X, I will always be a man, and I won’t even know what hit me.

My heart sits backs and watches me with some fascination as you do this, almost laughing at me.

This is physical reality, this is nature, its emotional homeostasis, and millions of years of genetic and physical and social evolution. I cannot fight it. Maybe one day, I’ll learn to control it and laugh at it the way my heart does.

So this is not a declaration of war, or anger to you for consciously or unconsciously manipulating m heart.
Its one of love and fascination for life, its one of anger with myself for being just another piece of putty in nature’s hand, for all my self-importance and delusions of control.

It is me saying; because I’m aware of a truth, it doesn’t mean I can fully overcome it yet.

So, I’m not backing away from you. I’m not turning myself off like a machine and dropping you like a sack of potatoes. Because I can. But I wouldn’t be living life, then. I’d be running away from it. I continue down this path because I’m not scared, and because I want to learn, and because I know I will have to lose and be humbled before I truly know what it means to win. I’ll stay with you for as long as it takes. But I just want you to know:

I know what you’re doing.

Yours Sincerely,
Saman

Over-Occupied Mind

Okay, exams are comin up…I’m gonna start studying TONIGHT!
HONESTLY!!!

Been still going out waay too much these past few nights. And things are reaaaally complicated with this one girl I really like, a LOT. I mean, DAMN, why is it that being friends with someone, and being urself is so damn easy, but the moment u consciously realize that this person means a LOT to you, then every single second u spend with her becomes a self-conscious torture exercise where u try to not think so much, try not to screw things up because suddenly this friendship seems hystERICALLY fragile to you for no good reason, and u wish u could grab that weak, sabotaging gremlin in ur head and strangle it…
just try to LET GO. I mean WHY the hell am I worrying so much that any little thing I say might make her run away like some cliché delicate flower at the beginning of winter? THESE ARE FAKE BLOODY WORRIES! Whatever happened to taking a risk, and just living OUTSIDE of a safe, boring comfort zone?? If anything will make anyone run away, it’ll be from getting bored of my trying so hard to be smart and impressive and being terrified, to the point of stagnation, of saying something wrong.

Fake expectations and disappointed minds, and torturously broken hearts, and deliriously happy moments of mania…bleh. I was nOT made for this shit. Wouldn’t it be cool if relationships were simple?

And don’t give me that “if it was simple, they wouldn’t be worth so much” Crap. Grow a mind of ur own. I just want them to be SIMPLEEE!!! To hell with it. I’ll make it simple! (and screw things up like a pIG haha)

Adios!
(aaaand u’ll probably hear some crappy sob story from me in a few days haha)

Surgery

Tomorrow I will be going to a place where being under control of a few old men with a limited imagination is a virtue. I will go to a place where having faults and being imperfect are reasons to be condemned absolutely; socially, academically and intellectually. I will go to a place where medieval hierarchy rules, and those in “charge” get away with petty banter and cause immense pressure that would not be at all believable outside those soulless walls. But within, you sit there with a stark, mind-drowning realization that this is all real, and this is where you are stuck for at least 3 weeks.

Tomorrow, I will be starting Surgery in Pretoria Academic Hospital with consultants and registrars that have less vision and compassion and magnanimity than a wad of spit that’s dried up and smells bad.

Wish me luck. :)

Adios.

Once Upon a Time...Part 2

Once upon a time, there was a boy that found himself standing in the middle of a war with huge warriors and skull-decorated brutes that crashed and screamed and hacked away at each other all around him, roaring war cries and dropping by the hundreds to the floor, blood and guts flying everywhere...

One day, the boy realized he wasn’t perfect. The oversized sword and shield were still in his hands, and still not realizing they were there, he scratched his head thoughtfully. These people had a point in picking on him. The faults that they were jumping on him for were valid. He was the things they accused him of being.

But they were many of those things themselves too. But he wasn’t rubbing that in their faces. He wasn’t picking on them for it, so why were they doing that to him? He just wanted to be left alone. But he realized he was in the middle of this war, whether he now wanted it or now. He realized he was going to have to just suck up his gut and take it, to be patient and still smile and be his delirious self in the face of all their attacking him. He would have to just make himself comfortable in the hell until he developed his means to fight back, and create that peace that he wanted so badly by himself.

And a few of the strong ones in the army watched and waited patiently for him to realize that he had the perfect weapons in his own hands. They waited for him to lose himself and just act without the dilution of thought, with nothing but the pure, most primeval fluctuations of his heart, and use those perfect weapons with absolutely no reserve…

To be continued?

Shadow

Theres this thing that pops up in my head when I’m overcome with despair, or when I’m overcome with happiness. I never notice it coming, but only I realize it when its too late. When its already here.

I thought that it’s fear. I thought it’s that terrified part of me that wants hold me back from all the little things and big things of life. The part of me that thinks little of me. But whatever it is, it also pops up when something happens that’s almost too good to be true. When I’m overcome with happiness. It waits for me to be lost in that feeling, with my head in the clouds, completely overjoyed and in disbelief. And then it comes.

It’s the part of me that hates me. It waits for when I’ve lost an iota of control of my self. Whether I’ve lost myself in fear, or hopelessness, or extreme happiness. It sabotages every aspect of my life that it possibly can. Makes me do things that I wouldn’t believe in my “conscious” states. How do I keep it back?

I’m going to name you. I will name you Mr. Valentine. Because of the massacres you’ve caused.

Haha….okay, waaaay too corny for a short story, huh? Maybe..I’ll see.

Adios.
S

Choices...

Wow. I haven’t written in a while, have I?
These past few days have certainly been hectic…30 hour calls, then parties overnight, then more calls, then more parties….work hard play hard, right? Ha. Not sure if I’m really managing. Gonna try to cool off over the next few days.

I only just realized, the quality of SOME of the stuff I write (like my book) depends on how much hardship I’m goin through at that time. For what I’m to be remembered by to be any good, I have to pay with my misery. To have a comfortable life means writing almost nothing that’s worth remembering. Has to be one or the other, can never have both, it seems.

Hell. I’ll take the life of misery over short-term comfort anyday. As long as this heartfelt crap I write is guaranteed to skyrocket into centuries, eons. Hah. Listen to me. A writing megalomaniac in the making.

Anyway, I’ll keep this one brief. On call again tomorrow, and after last nights party, I’m feeling like a sluggish zombie. (yeah, oxymoron right there)

Take care
Adios!

Critic #1

Well, my sister didn’t like my latest short story, which sucks. Haha.She says I used too much exposition, and built up the story way too much, creating too much expectation in her, and ultimately leading her to being disappointed in an anti-climactic ending.

Damn.

OH WELL!! Haha. I did write it way too self consciously as I mentioned before…I don’t know why I’m finding it so hard to just let go over these past few weeks/months. Obligations and expectations and fears and inadequacies are holding my subconscious back, and have created some kind of fake autopilot in me again. It’s a survival mechanism, I think, to the conventions of my surgery rotation. Its not really helping, though, because I’m unconsciously (but feebly) rebelling against that autopilot in every way I can. And because I’m sporadically attacking this autopilot survival mechanism, my actions and their outcomes have become rather self-destructive and pointless.

Or maybe I’m just thinking too much. Who knows.

Damn culture growing in my head, trying to take hold of the reins of my choices. Some people call it culture. Others may call it routine, or convention, or dare I say education.

The human soul is not conventional by nature. Convention breeds manipulation which ultimately leads to selfish gain by the manipulator. That’s the only reason why we’ve become conventional as a society. There’s nothing routine or conventional about the true human nature. That’s why I hate this routine tendency that I find growing in me. We’re meant to be free of any sort of patterns that can be classified or stereotyped. How can the human soul, which isn’t even nearly understood, already be confined by shallow social standards that change color with the slightest change in circumstance. Souls cant really live such caged lives.

At least not mine. And I can’t be alone in this.

The Devils Hand

Alright, I just wrote my latest short story…Not sure what to call it. The Devils Hands, maybe.

I love the story, I think its my best one in months, but my problem is the style I’ve written it with. Dammit, it feels like I was too self-concious in writing it. From experience, I’ve noticed that the worst thing I can do with my stories is force it out, worry too much about whats been said and whats not said…worried about the technicalities of it. Worried about my own abilities in making it awesome. All that worry translates into a deliberately written, just kind of plain BORING story, no matter how good the original idea may be.

When I just let go and let the most crazy shit just come out without holding back with dumbass self-doubt or feelings of inadequacy in expression..thats when the most incredible things come out. Or maybe this is just a paranoid lack of self-confidence that’s talking. I need to take a break, go back and read it again with a clear head and see if it really feels forced.

Its about a guy that’s obsessed with finding immortality…and he finds it at a terrible cost to hundreds of people that he knows....and Zombies get involved at some point. haha

Anyway, adios :)

A weak example of "writing every day"

Well, another 27 hour call tomorrow.
I find myself at a comfort zone again. Its always a week or so into every rotation that I get this feeling. Where I just don’t feel like studying, where going every morning to this new place isn’t such a big deal anymore, and I’ve more or less gotten used to the new house doctors and registrars. And its also the point of comfort where I feel deluded enough to think I don’t need to study now…I can study later, and before I know it, the 7 weeks is over and exams are here. And I always end up feeling stupid. Like “what the FUCK didn’t I study for in these past 7 weeks?!?? What was I doiNG?!?”

In the first week of every rotation, I usually study a lot, then in the second week with this comfort zone, I start taking it easy..and its always because of some circumstantial thing, like late nights partying or going on call, and just being too bummed or tired to study for a few days, and the habit of studying breaks, and never really recovers.

Anyway :)
Just my pointless rant of the day. Adios, amigos
S

From nowhere comes this:

This will be my vent. What a small vent it is. I don’t have the patience to squeeze all my indecipherable frustrations through these small pores, so what I say seems random and juvenile.

Mankind can be such a shallow, traitorous, parasitic thing. Only one in a million are the beacons against which I’ve been mistakenly measuring the world against. Only one in a million remain great in the face of adversity and a true reflection of a human being. And my fear right now is that I’m not one of those million, the person I always fancied myself to be thanks to the false hopes of movies and Disney. Because in these sequential moments of induced panic and despair that we call life, I find myself unraveling, a part of me sulking that things are not the way that they should be. If circumstances were the way that they were “meant” to be, then I can be myself, happy, and expressive and smart and brilliant and just plain Saman. But in these tough times, I cant be myself, so I just sit back miserably and in despair hoping that they’ll pass and I can finally breathe and be myself again. But I think I have to start realizing, that those easy times with no hardships was never really meant to be. They were free bonuses. Not life. Life is these hard parts. The parts I’m wishing would go away so I can be myself, and so maybe I’m missing out on life because I’m under the delusional impression that the times where I can shine at my brightest will be times when circumstances will be easy.

Its how much you shine when times are tough that determines who you are. Not how much you shine when it’s convenient. It’s the tough, inconvenient times when you get stabbed in the back by people closest to you. Its during these times where you disappoint yourself by failing to achieve your aspirations which in turn leads to an immeasurably self-destructive doubt in yourself. It’s in life’s greatest moments when you feel your back being broken by those closest to you. There is no other life, just this one. So shine, if you can, little whiner. Shine. Nobody said it was going to be easy. To give off light, the little piece of wood has to burn.

So burn. Burn alive, and be brilliant. Don’t lament burning, rather celebrate being a light, and keep shining.

Regardless of circumstance, regardless of self-doubt, and pain and failures and losing every single thing you hold dear and feeling yourself being passed off like dust off a shoulder, keep heads high and shine as if there’s not a feather of burden on your back. That’s what will make you exceptional. Not the easy victories, but the victories in the midst of death and destruction pulling you down with every step you take. That’s what will make the victories memorable.

There it is again: my childish short-sighted optimism distorting hard reality into a warped breed of optimism, completely forgetting the original worry and turning it into false hope. Sentimentalizing the real issue.

Stood up...Stand up. Stand up? Stand up.

So what do you do when you have nothing to say?

You remind yourself that you exist for a reason, and for as long as your alive, you have a purpose to drive yourself to death for, and you will always have some aspect to express about it, whether its in writing, or song, or action, or film.

You know? I’m thinking of trying out for some stand-up comedy. Most of them out there are the ultimate pessimists. Winner Pessimists, I call them. They’ve got serious issues in the world just like any other tom dick or harry, but instead of letting it get to them, because their smart or have a sense of humour, they see the humor behind it, and they make jokes out of it. Like how Russell Peters dad used to beat him up, or how Francisco never really fit in with the jocks of life, or how Chris Rock has deep-seated race issues..etc etc. So they take these perceived negative aspects, and instead of getting consumedly bitter over it, they joke about it. Great, good for them. They script the shit their going to say in a skeleton form, and talk around those 5, 6 or 50 topics that they’v scripted before hand, so a lot of their stand ups are mostly repetitions or improvisations of their own old jokes.

But theres a few stand ups out there (like Craig Ferguson…damn, love that dude.), he gets up every night to the same audience (um…National television audience) and spends 10 minutes just expressing his thoughts on the events of the day/week. Every night a different thing. So he just stands up there and talks shit about the things he saw, and he’s just genuinely funny. They way he interprets the world, the way he sees things is just fucking strange and hilarious to see. He’s not trying to be funny. He just goes up there and says whatever the heck comes to his head and its funny.

So I’m thinking, maybe I should give it a try. Sure, I’ll probably get completely consumed with a fear and nervousness that I wont even fully understand but will end up completely ruining any prospects of me being a success…but I gots to try, right? And just try not to think so much and just dump whatever in my head onto the audiences lap with no fear of consequence or appropriateness. I don’t want to be funny, I just want to be me.

But where the hell do I start? Where do I go? Haha.

Oh yeah, my opening line! “what do you do when you have nothing to say?” I started this blog with that line for a reason…I was thinking. When I go on stage, hoping to be a good stand up, I’ll start getting nervous, and wondering what the HELLLLLLL to say, right? So I figured I could get myself started every single time with the line “what do you do when you have nothing to say?” (after the intro of course)..then I could work my way through the stand up from there. For example, I start out with the aforementioned line, and today, with nothing better to say, respond to my line by saying “you dip your nose in chocolate and spend your lunch hour trying to touch it with your tongue.” And then carry on from there…get what I’m saying? Kind of like how ol’Craig Ferguson always starts his stand ups by saying “It’s a great day for America, everybody! Why? Um…” then goes on from there.
It SHOULD work, right? Right?? RIGHT??!?!?!??

Pre-call Day.

I’m on call tomorrow. I really don’t mind it, except I tend to feel this suffocating sense of obligation to professors, consultants and registrars around me. I hate that. Normally, I tell them to kiss my ass and go fuck themselves, but I’m trying to behave here to make sure all the heads of department have no reason to give me anymore pathetically uncessary delays and problems than I’ve already had….just gotta keep my head low a little longer, just keep silent to their small-minded jabs of culture and social hierarchy, then I’m out from under them.

Then maybe one day, I’ll come back for them. murHAHAHA.

Haha.

Hey, how many blogs are out there? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? Damn. Makes this little one so insignificant. I’ve gotta find a direction for this one to make it stand out, don’t I?

Anyway..I don’t have much to say. If I think of something, I promise I’ll come back here. But right now, I’m too bummed about having to go on call tomorrow (a public holiday – FREEDOM DAY in South Africa..the date of the first post-apartheid democratic elections), and then on call again on SuNday. Flip. Flap. Flot. Frik. Freak. Flark. FarOut. [insert another lame pg-13 rated swear word here]

Later

S

Silence...

What do you when you have nothing to say?

You let the silence do the talking. You never know what it says, and you never will. But it talks to you. Through the eternal moments of hearing nothing, comes the outcome. You wake up from the silence with a completely new energy, or a completely new lack thereof. Nobody knows what it dictates until you obey her.

Following whatever instructions the silence gave you, you involuntarily obey, and there you are, not even aware that you’re suddenly erupting with this new energy, but you roll with it. You live in it, and you revel in it, and you light the world around you with it, and everything changes for the better or for the worse, you feel like your exploding, and you’ll never stop exploding, and you keep roaring like some seemingly eternal nuclear furnace…right until the time that the silence comes for you again.

And everything’s suddenly silent again. All is quiet, and there sits silence with you, whispering as always. You try desperately to listen to her, but you cant make out a single sound and you know there’s some invisible part of you that’s listening attentively to her right at that very moment.

You try to repeat what you were doing with that energy before the silence came for you, but all efforts fall flat in your face. It only works when the silence says so. Silence is the boss. Not you. Silence says when you will explode like the sun and shine even brighter, not you.

So there you sit, in the emptiness of silence once again, waiting for her new instructions that no one can hear…



Hmmm…you know? Great material for my latest short story, huh? Ha! Made u look :)
I’m gonna keep writing somewhere else…adios!

Once Upon a Time...

Once upon a time, there was a boy that found himself standing in the middle of a war with huge warriors and skull-decorated brutes that crashed and screamed and hacked away at each other all around him, roaring war cries and dropping by the hundreds to the floor, blood and guts flying everywhere.

The little boy felt overwhelmed. He was so out of place in this battlefield of violent giants. But everyone stayed away from this skinny-looking half-pint kid. This kid had two things in his hand, the one was an enormous sword, it looked like it weighed twice as much as his own weight, but he held it and played naively with it like it weighed nothing. In his other hand he had an indestructible shield. With these two, nothing could get in this scrawny looking kids way. Nothing.

He could mow through both sides of the army as if they weren’t there. He was the worst and most deadly killer of all the dark-eyed behemoths that were battling around him. And they were all terrified of him. They didn’t pay much attention to him because they were busy fighting each other, but in the back of their minds, they saw these huge weapons in this kids hand, and if push came to shove, he could annhialate them with it.

But the kid just walked around in the middle of this battle field, bewildered, and in his own happy little world, playing his own little games, and finding humor in everything.He didn’t even realize that he was carrying around these two unbeatable weapons with him. He just played with them like he took them for granted.He didn’t know that he could fight better than anyone there. He didn’t even fully realize that there was a battle to be fought.

Slowly, the a very few of the warriors around him begin realizing that this kid has these invinvible weapons, and that he doesn’t even fully realize that he has them. Some just patiently try to support him until he realizes it, while others start growing bold in the face of this harmless looking kid that they were previously so threatened by.And they start picking on him. Poking him. Pushing him, trying to slash at him with their swords. And the boy just nonchalantly walks out of the way of some, and laughs gaily at others.

But some of them start getting to him, and the boy gets a little annoyed. But he still doesn’t know he has these weapons that can destroy everything, so he feels incredibly helpless, and irritated. But they just continue pushing him, making him feel more and more like he’s going to lose it…

And the boy starts wondering: If he’s forced to fight these huge bullies that seem so keen on hurting him, then can he really do it? Can he survive? What weapons will he use to fight them?

He starts questioning himself for the first time, growing irrationally inconfident at times, and incredibly empowered at others.

But they keep pushing him.

And the patient boy slowly gets more and more angry…

To be continued?

Borrrrring! :)

So! Surgury rotations really aren’t so bad, so far. Then again, I still haven’t started the rotation in the Big Bad Wolfs hospital yet…that’ll come soon enough.
And I’m actually STUDYING. Amazing. Me. Not procrastinating. Okay, only procrastinating a little bit. A leeeetle beeet.

God, I love meeting and talking, and just interacting with people on an honest level. There’s so much unconscious learning in that. Cliché, but true.

And the Virginia Tech University students can finally go back to lectures now, huh? Well, good for them.

HAhaa, yeah, I really don’t have anything to say. Well, more like I don’t feel like writing anything in my present half-pint-effort mood
Enjoy

Adios

Does this song make me look gay? Bite me.

I’ve had this song stuck in my head for so long. Its this corny old song from the 80’s Small Town Boy by Bronski Beat

Yeah, I know, get off my case. But anyway. I didn’t realize it’s a gay song. Haha. Buncha horny homos singing for another horny homo (hey, that’s not discriminating…its just honest, fuck off.). My point is, I really love this song..a lot.

People say you love songs because you can relate to what their saying, that’s half-truth bull. I cant relate to homosexual love to some small town dude. These singers are singing about what they feel about this brown eyed boy.

Emotions are universal. Everybody knows what its like to be in love, or ecsastic, or depressed, or furious or shattered…Whats different is the shallow circumstances that evokes these emotions. They sing about the circumstances, sure…but the tune of their songs, and the way they sing those words evokes those feelings that their feeling. Not the circumstances. I couldn’t give jack shit about the circumstances. But I feel that emotions that the artist is feeling, and I relate it to my own personal circumstances that may be completely different from those of the artist.

The good singer evokes that emotion in his song. Translates that emotional extreme into sound like a brilliant writer telling the most brilliant story. The popcorn pieces of shit singers just blab about the circumstances, and no emotional weight is felt at all.

Anyway..another pointless rant for today. I just really loved the emotion that this song Small Town Boy evokes. Even if the singer felt it because some farm-boy gave it to him the wrong way up the ass.

Um…did I say some thing politically incorrect? RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!!

Life: great? sad? tough? funny? hopeless? fun? miserable? painfull? infuriating? haunting? mythic? awesome? (can you say WAYNES WORLD?).wow long title

This is the random series of events that is my life.

I need to study. On Monday, I’m jumping into a rotation, general surgery, where (believe it or not) almost every single consultant, and the head of department, wants my head on a pike. To them, I’m the prick that cant be kept under control, and doesn’t know jack shit about medicine. Why do they think this? Me not giving a shit what they think, and not ass kissing them when they want it, saying the absolute wrong things at the wrong time (only cause I’m being honest dammit haha), and most of all: They gossip like old ladies in a home. Small minded bastards.

I wont get to study at ALL during this rotation, cause its gonna be so busy, and I have to be on my absolute best behavior if I want these guys to give me a chance in hell of passing the course (the assessment is subjective, so their opinion matters a shit-load. Great. My future rests on the opinion of biped cockroaches).

And boyoboy, do I have a shit-load of exams to study for. Woahhh. I truly pray I make it. I know I have a fighting chance if I just keep pushing it…but dammit, procrastinations feels so good! Haha..no, I’ll do it.

Plus my book..man, I feel the urge to express myself in that book way too much than my present schedule will allow, so I guess I’m gonna put it on hold, at least until June.

Anyway…just my rant for the day :)
Take care.
S

Oh yeah, I write a blog, dont I? d'uhhh!

I know its been ages since I last wrote…so much has happened..

I actually came on here several times to write new blogs, but I think somethings either wrong with the site, or my computers web programs…I write the whole blog, and then when I press “publish”, it takes AGES to load the next page…actually, it NEVER loads the page, but after about 5 minutes of waiting, ALL the shyte I wrote just kinda DISSAPEARS. Yes, it deletes itself like pac-man eating those corny dots.

I gave up. Read an old blog down below, and you’ll know how much I HATE having the stuff I write being lost without backing it up….even if it’s a small, insignificant piece of shit. I just hate it …feels so demoralizing. Like I just poured my heart into something for twenty minutes, and then it just disappears..laughs at those 20 minutes of open expression as if it meant absolutely nothing. Blehh.

But anyway..I’m back. I don’t garuntee I’ll write very regularly: I’m still in medschool, so it’s a perty busy schedule I’ve got. Add that to the major procrastination and self-destructive and just plain LAZY attitude that I’ve got, and you get a guy writing blogs pretty damn rarely. Anyway.

I think I need to find some direction for these blogs.

The books going really well..A little slow over the past few days because of medschool work getting more hectic, but still obsessively on my mind, and a few bursts of brilliance being written down every now and again.

Love-Life? Haha..interesting ups and downs. Incredible highs that could make me fly, and crushing lows causeing more pain than I thought possible. I’ll get into the details later. Just ask if ur really curious.

Anyway…I’ll sign off for now.

Take care.


Oh yeah..I noticed I pay too much attention to the detail of my writing, don’t I? So much so, that it actually retards the flow that all these ideas come out with. I should just let go, and let the shit flow, detach myself a little from whether it’ll be good enough or not, from my love of the books characters, etc etc, and just allow that river to flow right out of this perpetually distracted head of mine.

Anyway, take care #2

S

madness

OKAY! Just a quick note before you read this crazy peice of shit below...I wrote this a while ago..I'd just broken up with a girl. We were dating for a while, but I'm not sure if I could really call her my girlfriend. We just started going out when I dumped my PREVIOUS girlfriend, so I geuss it was an unhealthy relationship to start with... Anyway. The shit I wrote below back then (this note I'm writing now is written on 23'rd April..I wrote the shit below about 2 months ago),...anyway, like I was saying, the stuff below is really angry and really sad and really frustrated, so just take it with a grain of salt. I was in the heat of the moment, and I didnt feel this way for long after I wrote it. Writing it just acted as a vent for me to get everything out, and once it was out, I felt a lot better, and forgot about most of it. And I gave up on this blog. Now that I'm back, I look back at this thing and think it needs a bit of explaining :) Anyway. If your gonna read it, then I hope you see something good in it that I dont.
Only reason I'm not deleting it is because...I think everything should be stored. The good, the bad and the fucking uGLy. :)
Adios


Society and politics
I’m a genius at expressing myself
And it works
I love what I express
Apparently, people love what they hear and what they see

But none of that matters..
Because the things I want are always out of my reach
Because
Because it feels like the machine of socieioufd;ksfdj
This is bullshit



Am I in love with her?
If I’m not, then why does my mind go on fire whenever I think about her?

I should rather label this an obsession
Because I hardly know her, but yet I feel so much for her
Or maybe an enormous fascination
Because I don’t know many people from her culture,
That are as exposed to other cultures as she is

Or maybe it’s the fact that she’s in love with someone else
That’s just got me jelous.
The angry schoolboy syndrome..where the toy that he wants
Belongs to someone else
And he’s angry
Only because the toy isn’t his. Not because he really wants it.

But then why did I feel something for her since I first saw her..
Before I first saw her, before I even thought of her with someone else.

I feel like if I lose her, I’m going to die.
That my mind will catch alight,
And set fire to my brain
And in turn burn my head,
Spontaneous combustion: the true story behind the mystery.

And now I feel like I’ve lost her.
So I’m on the verge of death
Like I never had her heart to begin with
That it was all just an act
A formality of politeness and fascination
But for me, the idiot, I put my heart in something that
Was never meant to happen
Put my heart in an uphill battle
And I never knew
And now I’m some pathetic puppy, bleeding and deflated
Blood spread around me in a stagnant pool

And I’m just lying here.
Blehh.

I want to get up and do something else
Forget about her
Get on with my life.
But its just not worth it. My life was hers
Now she doesn’t exist,
So neither does my life.

Maybe I’m evil
But I want payback
I want her to feel pain
I want to hurt her heart.
Make her feel the same pain I’m feeling
This gnawing parasitic grip on my very soul
Sucking my life away
I want her to feel that
See how she handles it.
And then
Just walk away.

I didn’t ask for this feeling in my heart
This pain from being separated from her.
I didn’t choose it.
This is not my fault.
So whose fault is it?
And how do I solve it?
Do I just get used to it?
Dammit. Wheres the reason?

Aww, MAAAN!!!

Jeezuz! I just wrote a whole damn blog, a huge one (well, umm...a normal sized one), and this stupid browser hung up on me, and I lost the WHOLE THING!! DAMMMIT!!! I feel like I was just bloody raped!! (okay, politically-correct nitpickers, seriously. Get off my case. Its just an analogy. Bite me)

ARR!!!

dammitdammitdammitdammitdammit. I HATE it when I lose data that way. WHATS WRONG WITH THIS STUPID BROWSER?!?!?!

ARRRR!!!

I'm gonna type a new blog tomorow. Its way late now, and I'm too pissed off and all huffy and sulky now. DAIMMIT!! MERT!! SHAIZZERRR!!!!!!SHYYTTEE!!!

okay, i feel better now.

NO I DONT!! SHUT UP!! STOP PRETENDING U FEEL BETTER!!

okay, seriously, calm down. Ur embaressing me.

SHUT UP!! I"M PISSED OFF!!! I WROTE ALL OF THAT CRAP FOR NOTHINGGG!! NOTHHING!!!!!

okay. so go kill some one.

SCREW YOU, YOU PATRONIZING FATHER-FIGURE WANNABE!!!

umm..seriously, this is getting weird.

BITE ME!!!

screw u.

SCREW U!!

I said it first.

SCREW YOU!!!!!!!

okay, lets kiss and make up.

I WANNA ..oh, hell. I give up. this sucks.

yup.

yup!

adios, weirdo.

adios, jackass.

Hmmmm

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Life's oldest, most cliche problem, and I'm stuck in it.

Theres no glory in this. Only pain.

As Schwarzenegger says in his hilarious accent, "DAiMITT!!" Hmmm...obviously, I wont give up, although that tendency is always right there like a coin about to drop off an edge.

Monster

Theres a monster inside me.
Sometimes, when I doubt myself, whether its in writing a story, or when I'm cramming the night before a test like I am now, that monster gets his way.
You see, this monster has thousands of arms, and each of his arms has a grip on one part of my heart. Usually, I'm strong enough to keep the structure of that heart, keep its shape intact...but its in these moments of weakness, these moments of doubt that the monster strikes. He's just waiting for these slight weaknesses, where he'll be strong enough that he can pull one of those arms in. Pull that weak part of the structure inwards.

And once he's found a weak spot with one of his arms, his other arms become stronger, and they all start pulling that heart inwards towards the monster in the middle, collapsing that heart, imploding it like a crumpling peice of paper, leaving me completely expressionless, frozen, terrified and heartless.

I've noticed it takes a sort of abandon...a kind of completely unthinking almost detached confidence to get that strength back. Because in a concious battle of wills, that monster will win.

Every. Single. Time.

But when I stop thinking about what I can or cannot do...when I stop trying to so desperately regain that strength and pulling away from that monster, when I just forget about that stupid monster and assume I'm feeling fine, things get better. Because no matter how hard I try, the monster always wins. The harder I try, the stronger he gets.

Its only when I give up and stop caring what the monster does, and just know - not believe - but KNOW that I'm fine, even blindly if necessary, that I win.

Its in moments like these that I realize, I truly am nothing. Cause when I try, nothing successfull happens. But when I just do, without thinking about whether I can or not, that things work out. I dont know how the hell it happens, and I dont pretend to, but it happens. Shows how little I know about my own soul...when I stop trying to control it, and making it do what I think it can do...when I just let go...just let it fly free...shit comes together. :)

Damn..this is the surrealist peice of crap I've ever written. I have to go back and study.

Point

U know? I think this blog needs some direction..
I'm always talking some COMPLETELY random crap every single time!
Hmm...what should my main theme be though? Instead of being so broad with my thoughts, it would be better if I applied all those crazy naive thoughts on a common theme..
Dont know what to make it, though.

My book, maybe? no...I'm writing hundreds of pages of that already, think thats enough.

Medicine? Nah...did like a hundred newspaper articles on that already..boring.

Sex? Fun, but dumb'ol conservatives will hate me, and their opinion means so much to me. Besides, theres only so many ways I can say "I'm horny and insecure".

Life philosophy? Too vague and presumptous. umm...and cliche.

Religeon? Sure. I can be preacher #73829834729 2987 23987 8 829

I KNOW! ALIENS!! AND UFO PROBES!!! I HAD ONE...shut up, Saman.

hmm..seriously,
ANy suggestions?

Story Teller

Dammmnn...
I'm a little exhausted. I've reached a really critical part of my book. The main crises are about to happen...and the one lover in the book just cursed the other while he's gone, and she doesnt know it, but the curse comes true in its own twisted way. Its a really emotionally charged part of the book. People die, others are lost, stereotypes change, and those unwilling to change gear up for war. And one god goes mad.

i love this book. I think my greatest fear is that I write it crappily and it ends up being one long cliche.

Lets hope not. I think editing it once I'm finished the first draft is gonna take a lonnnng time.

PTS

Okay! pOST test syndrome. Adrenalines high, sweating cold sweat that evaporates in seconds, and leaves me freezing. Feels damn good. All that nervous, excited, terrified energy poured behind that test has spilled over into post-test time, and I dont know what to do with all this energy.

The test went well, I think.

Hopefully now I'm qualified to do a gynecological exam. Umm..which me and the rest of the entire class has been doing for months now ANway, so what the F...okay, this isnt really getting anywhere.

Gonna go watch Blood Diamand now at the movies...hear its damn good.
Adios

A strange thing happened yesterday...

So, two fruit-trees sat in a bar, and the one fruit-tree said to the other, "I think I love you.". She was GONNA ask why there was a hyphen between the words "fruit" and "tree", but the words "I love you" just came out like a proud homosexual. The other fruit tree freaked out and morphed into a giant panda bear and started eating his love-professing friend. Then Chuck Norris's dad walked in and asked for a tip, because the snow queen had given him a ride in her carriage pulled by red-eyed horses, and she had stolen his wallet while he slept. So he needed a tip to give to the waitress at the resturant that he went to next door. He only had a cup of water, but she still wanted a tip. This girl was ambitious, and she was going places.

The panda bear didnt have any money, so it gave him a ball of his fur. Chuck Norris Senior ran back to the resturant to show the pouty waitress the wonderfull prize he'd gotten. The thing is this wasnt just any ball of panda-fur. It was was a panda fur-ball that could make you hop between dimensions if you rubbed it hard enough.

The waitress was really pissed off at first: she just wanted money. But eventually, ol'Chuck Senior convinced her to rub his ball of fur, and suddenly a genie popped out.

"What the!" She looked irritated. "This was supposed to take us to another dimension, not do an Aladdin rip-off!"

The genie looked at her with a know-it-all expression. "I didnt come from your stupid ball of fur. This IS another dimension. Everyone in this dimensions a genie. Look around you, smartass." He laughed and floated off.

Chuck and the spoilt waitress looked around the resturant...everyone...EVERYONE in the previously normal-looking resturant were floating like farts in multi-colored bags.

Chuck walked over to one purple-colored genie and asked him for the meaning of life.

The genie told him that life was all about individual expressions in all its forms, and the pains that go with them.

Chuck nodded with an enlightened expression, and then proceeded to round-house kick the genie back to his magic lamp.

Then an alien invasion happened, and the aliens all looked like smurfs with glowing orange eyes.





Fine, I'll stop. haha. I'm bored, okay? I have an exam for Gynecology tomorow, and I'm SICK of studying. SICK OF IT! I DONT KNOW ANYTHING!! And no matter how much I study, I'LL STILL KNOW NOTHING, SO WHYYY STUDYYYY?!?!? i wish studying was as fun and exciting as having sex.

its now 1:30 am. Maybe I'm just tired.
Wish me me luck for tomorow :)
ummm...i mean today.
Adios.

Dreamscape Part 2

So, the rest of that dream, right? Well theres not much more to tell. That lady came to me and said that there was something else I had to do. I'd dreamt of her before in an even weirder dream than this one.

Anyway, she said that theres another prison, and that I had to go in there and do something...cant remember what it was, though. So just went in without question, and I dont remember much of what happened, but it was fine. I was in much more control than I was in the previous prison. I found a crack in the ceiling and crawled through, and there were huge unexplored, and undiscovered hallways hidden in the attic. They were all run down and old, hadnt been used in decades, and there was somethign gothic about their appearance. I remember just walking through them, fascinated and haunted by the dreary atmosphere they gave off, almost like music.

I got out eventually...dont remember the details much, but I remember getting out, and she was still there waiting. I think there were others with her now too, but I cant be sure.

Anyway.

Dreamscape

I had a dream.

I dreamt I was in the most terrible prison, and there was nothing I could do to get out. Hundreds of people were in there with me, and they were all miserable, but they were surviving. I couldnt survive. I knew if I stayed in there much longer, I would die, and I would die a most miserable death.

I looked everywhere in that prison, every corner, every crack every unexplored attic or ceiling...there was no way out. I could never escape from there. There was nothing I could do except die. I cant even explain how hopeless and miserable I felt.

So I just played dead. I dropped down to the floor and decided to hold my breath. Gaurds came in and looked at me lying there, talking to each other and discussing why they think I died, and whether I was faking it or not. They'd stare at me for what seemed like hours, looking for the slightest hint of life. I'd try not to breathe, but every now and then I couldnt help but flutter my eyes reflexively or move my breathing muscles, and I was sure they'd noticed and just laugh and walk away.

But they didnt notice. They honestly thought I was dead. After ages of just expecting me to get up and miraculously come back to life, they eventually gave up and dragged me out of that prison.

It was night time, and the moon was huge. The prison loomed behind us like a mountain sillhouette as they dragged me from the massive entrance door. They left me there outside in the dark streets, and went back inside and closed those huge doors behind them.

I couldnt believe they fell for it...I couldnt believe I was free. I stood up and looked up at that vast expanse of sky with the lonely moon singing its song of palest light. I cant even describe that heartfelt elation that I felt at that moment...I remember looking in the distance, and there was someone walking towards me. I'd never met her before, but I knew her somehow, and she was a friend, and she was there to tell me there was something else I needed to do before I could truly be free.

Weird dream.

It continued, but I'll tell the rest of it next time. Too tired now. Early day tomorow ;)

Old Friends

I've been catching up with a lot of my childhood friends lately. Friends that I hadnt heard from for years, a decade even, and suddenly we're in contact again, and suddenly we'r both adults.

I caught up with a couple of them recently, and I gotsto say, its really refreshing to see that same person I knew as a 9 or 14 year old in the heart of these adults that stood before me. Most of the time, you get a new person, not that same friend that you grow up with...a new image in front of that person, at least, that he/she asserts almost desperately. A fake mask put on in responce to their desperation for acceptance.

But seeing this old friend of mine, and getting to talking? Damn...it was the same person in a different body. No shame or fear or self-expression, and it was like it was the late 1980's all over again.

What a time warp.

And now, I'm gonna sleep like a pig. Just came back from another 30 hour call at the hospital, and some of the doctors are actually looking for me because they expect me to do go back there and do some more pointless work that they can do themselves just fine. haha, pricks.

As for the novel I'm writing? Hmm...what novel? haha. It feels like such a long time since I last wrote it. Its hard to stay awake nowadays with all these calls.
Adios!

HEY, WAITAMINUTE!

I didnt know there were peoples comments on this page!
haha, I'm an idiot. I was just browsing through the page boredly, and I see it says "1 comment" for an article here or there...I always thought if there was a comment it would SHOW, and I'd get an email or something. haha

Thanks for the comments, guys. Very encouraging. It seriously means a lot :)

uh. How do u spell encourage? is that right?

Holy crAP, that hurts.

I'm sorry if this sounds bitter, but thats how I feel. Unlike most assholes out there I'm not afraid to admit how I feel because I really dont give a shit what you think of me.

This letter is a swear word to all two faced sons of bitches out there. The people who pretend to act friendly, only because its the socially acceptable thing to do, while the whole time they think of you as some disgusting creature. The people who dont have the balls to say out loud how they feel about you, so instead they pretend to like you, and be nice to you. Open up to you as a friend, and vice versa. But then when it becomes too inconveniant to give you a fake smile, they show their true colors. And you feel the pain of having someone you thought of as a friend turn around and make you feel as worthless and useless as tHEY actually are.

Two faced pricks that judge you for being imperfect and stupid, while they dont realize that being a hyppocrite and a breaker of hearts is something far worse and deliberate.

I swear to God, I hate you all that are like that. I dont hate you because I think your lesser than me. I hate you because, whether you realize it or not, you are hurting people down to the core of their damn souls. How can you feel anything but hate for something that hurts you so exquisitely? Even if they did it out of ignorance or fear of social unnacceptance. No matter what their reasons are, the pain is still there, and fuck you all for causing it for the sake of shallow conveniance.

You dont act out of a principle or belief, or any sort of expression of your OWN soul. You act based on what society and your little friends deem as acceptable or cool. Well, fuck your lack of standards. It doesnt hurt that you secretly think of me as an idiot. I really dont give a shit what you think. What hurts is the fact that you smile and pretend to be a friend, and when I've softened enough and become completely trusting, you strike and show me how you really feel, when you know I'll be too shocked and hurt to defend myself.
I cant help but wonder...how the fuck do you smile at a person that you believe is an idiot? You look at a guy and think "What a fucking shithead." But then you smile at him. Your fakeness is the most disgusting thing I can ever imagine, you spineless assholes.

This letter is to all the people that do that, whether they admit it to themselves or not.

My only consolation is that when you die, nobody will give a fuck about you. Because there are so many people out there like you. Fake assholes that just follow the flock blindly because their too scared to express their own feelings honestly. When you die, there will be many others that can take your place and do the exact fake things that you do. It'll be as if you were never there, and life will just go on. One fake asshole after another. Replaceable and forgotten.

I swear tho, I'm not gonna change myself because of you. I'm not gonna be some scared, over-carefull coward who wont speak until he's absolutely sure that there arent any hypocrites out there to judge him. I wont compromise my own freedom of expression and openness because of narrow minded pricks that will ALWAYS exist.
There will be pain, but being myself, completely free and uncompromised and unafraid is more than worth the price of that pain.

Anyway...I just get a little angry at hypocrites that hurt people because of their two-facedness. Even though thats not a real word, I dont care.

And to all the people who have felt betrayed by someones fakeness before? I think all of us have felt that. SOme deal with it maturely, some dont. I'm not one of the mature people.
Its the people that go out and DO this crap that this letter is addressed to.

This rant is finished.

I'll write something more pleasant and rainbow-y some other day.

What thE-?

Jeezuz...would u look at that? I've been reading over my last few posts..
Working at the hospital with those greasy-haired profs has really got me all miserable, hasnt it?

I shouldnt let it get to me so much. BLEHHHHHH!!

Okay, I'm over it now. I just wrote over 7 pages for my book in about half an hour. Maybe hospital frustrations are usefull for SOMETHIN, huh?

Adios, amigos
S

Space Filler

Well, it was another day at the hospital today. What can I say? Its grade school all over again, with profs and doctors actually getting off by acting like the teachers that gave them shyte when they were kids.

Anyway.

Hey, theres this video with a whole bunch of accents and random crazy things I keep intending to make, but I keep putting me off. Maybe if I mention it here, it'll make me one step closer to doing it. Or maybe it'll just make this post more pointless than it already is.

Before destiny, confusion is king.
Later
S

My Nothing.

I have nothin to say today.
Bleh.

Well, wait here something I just thoug....nope. Nope.
its gone, i lost it.

Sue me.

Verbal Piss.

Hey I met one of my old friends today. He was also studying medicine, and he's graduated now.
The mans a doctor. But he decided not to practice. I remember he was also really sick of all that social politics at the hospital that I talked about in my previous post. In fact, he's so sick of it, that he's decided not to practice medicine at all anymore.

I really respect this guy, and he's one of the most hard working fella's I know. Helluva investment the governments made here, though. They pay two thirds of our hundred and fifty thousand rand tuition fees, and they let the professors and doctors get so out of hand in treating each other and students like shit, not giving them any room at all to defend or stand up for themselves, and then still expecting them to keep practicing.

I say these small minded bastards deserve losing good doctors like this. Maybe I'm just bitter for being in the middle of it, so be it. The worst thing is when students accept being treated like shit, and actually see themselves as the worthless, will-less, thoughtless peices of crap that their treated as. And then they crap on their few fellow students that actually try to stand up for themselves, worse than the professors ever could.

blehhh..Thanks, capitalism. You've successfully brought up a nation of idiots that you can successfully manipulate into spending money on shit that doesnt matter, so u get richer and they get poorer. And the best part is, you've made them so stupid, they love you for taking so much advantage of them.

Sometimes I think Bin Laden was right. He's an idiot because he killed people, and used literal bombs. We need some kind of ideological bomb to wake people up. Not a literal one that will kill innocent people.
But an ideological bomb, a major awareness shock, an anti-media movement that wont just start another stupid brainless trend. A movement that will actually make people smarter, make them think for themselves, and out of the pre-defined stereotypes.
I know I hate being stuck in this box and feeling like an idiot in a world of bias-media induced ignorance.


And dont call me a communist of socialist. If you do, then fuck you for thinking and regurgitating exactly what daddy or mommy or the TV or the government wants you to regurgitate. Labeling people, stereotyping them to keep them defined and quiet.
Dont look at whose saying the words. Just listen to whats being said.

NO SUBJECT. SUE ME

Under my mask of trying to be socially acceptable, I dont have anything to say. I was never any good at being socially acceptable, so fuck that.

I saw a lady at the hospital today.
She was 51 years old, and of course, she wasnt pregnant. But she had a uterus the size of a basketball. It had been that way for two years, and she was fine with it, until it started feeling a little too heavy for her back.

Tough lady.

Anyway, we took it out, and played basketball with it. I mean, dissected it and sent it to the lab for a histology report. If you wanna sound all fakely clever and knowledgable to sound impressive to any trend-following sheep-I mean friends- u may or may not have, you can call it a "myomatous uterus".

Seriously, though, its a blast seeing all these weird crazy things happening around me, and of course curing them, as any good samaratin would expect me to say. My only compliant is professional politics. Ass kissing, and social hierarchy in the workplace. It wouldnt be a problem if I bent over, and just took it, but I'm pissing on any so called superiors, so there're a few minor problems cropping up here and there. Nothing tOo serious. But if life is a battle, then this is a bitch. Cause life isnt about having to fend off insecure pricks like that. I just cant wait to be over this crap. A few more months..just a few more. Hold on, Shaker
Later.

Comfort Zone

Laziness is such a cool thing.

It keeps you ignorantly blissfull when at the back of your head, you know ur gonna lose out in the end. With understanding, there would be no patience for laziness...without understanding, laziness just kinda fills that void like a fat man eating all the time to avoid dealing with his insecurities.

Busybody

Well, the student internship is in full swing now. I'm in hospital every day, and we'r all running around trying desperately to make a difference in the hospital. Little worker ants in a very big hive. I must admit, I'm skipping some classes quite often.

I think its the idea that I HAVE to go to these classes that makes something in my head just click, and I get this overwhelming urge to do the exact opposite. Not always a good idea if I wanna get good tips for the exams. But anyway. At least I'm workin in the hospital a lot.

And when I can, I'm writing my book. Things are moving faster now in the story. Expositions over, and catastrophe's are happening. People are dying, and people are taking a stand. Betrayels are happening, some wicked, some without choice. A few are still dazed and confused and unsure whats happening. Some are in love, and worried sick that their gonna lose their loved ones, and others are time bombs just waiting to lose it. We have over-ambitious bastards, weak leaders that make bad decisions, victims that refuse to bow, gods that will go mad, and others that will die. Cant wait till its over!

The story in my other blog site, Myth Misplaced, (link on the left) is just a character peice I'm writing when I'm bored. It involves one of the main characters in my main book: the God of Fire. Sorry if its cliche or boring, or long, or presumptous. I'm just enjoying writing what his interactions would be like with people in the present where I live.

Anyway, take care.
Shaker out.

Double Standard?

You know, when someone means a lot to you…When your heart is in that person, in one form or another, somehow, at least with me, I subconsciously become really carefull what I say and how I say it. It just happens. Even when I try not to care, automatically, that annoying carefulness pops up in what I say or do. And because of my lack of freedom of action and expression, because of that hesitating carefulness, I always screw things up.

But when that person doesn’t mean shit. Or at least, I treat him/her like shit, and just get my point across without fear of consequence or impression…Its crazy how many times they suddenly get all ass-kissy. A helluva lot more so than when I actually try to show them that I care.

That’s crazy.

Why is a show of emotion automatically be interpreted as weakness or desperation? Why should I always have to verbally beat them over the head like inferior dogs just to get them to hear me out? I mean, you don’t want to treat the people that mean a lot to you like THAT. You shouldn’t have to. Ar, whatever.

An Echo

"I have a story. It’s a story that will haunt you forever, and you wont know if you’re happy or sad, insane, or the most sane person on earth. But whatever you’ll be, you’ll feel ten times more of what you felt before. It’s a story that can change you, and you’ll think that your life before hearing this story was not a life at all. It was just a prelude. An opening credit before a movie. An empty place.”


Thats art.

Schools back on...blehh.

Well, hospital rotations started today. My last 6 months as a med-student is now minus one day.
Wooptee-doo.

Seriously, its getting a little old running around getting professors off myback that jump me because they feel I dont ass-kiss them enough. Insecure little sons of bitches.
They'll get nothing but grief and brutal honesty from me, even if it costs me my degree. I dont give a shyte. It'll be a blast, as always :)

To the rebels of life

To the ones that refuse to bow to the options that media and society give us.
The ones that refuse to follow a pre-determined and accepted trend in order to fit in and make life cheaply easier for themselves.

How many of you are there out there, really?

Many claim to be "themselves" in a conditionally accepting world, and unbiasedly independant thinkers.

To the few that have, as a consequence of the order of society and media, been ignored or belittled or forgotten, and yet still refuse to follow what they've been told is "right":

There will always be resistance to a thought or principle thats worth having. Dont be bitter or feel victimized in the face of that resistance. People and media, either by implication, or in your face, may belittle your actions, make you feel small or unimportant or childish or ridicules, or even evil. They may blatantly fight you or try to stop you, or worse, try to control you.

Expect that resistance, nothing unique and worth having comes for free. And there is nothing worth more than an idea or a signature of life that is yours, and yours alone. An owned idea, a pre-meditated opinion that is unbiased by trends or society's levels of acceptance.

How many of you are reading this and thinking (if I'm making any sense at all ;) ) "Yeah, this dudes right. A little too idealistic, but right. But the resistance and trouble I'll get in life for going against the grain is just too much...a balance has to be struck between individuality and acceptance in society." ?
How many are willing to compromise on expressing your full self? The unabashed signature of your soul?

To the ones that feel belittled and made to feel like failures for having unique thoughts, hold on, and dont compromise your own ways and principles for even the fraction of an inch. Most of all, dont doubt yourself. Dont doubt, that maybe the people making you feel small are right. We all need more people like you.
You have an average of 73.3 years to express who you are to the fullest of your self, and nobody can do that but you. And there is nothing greater than the soul thats honest in his/her expression. This is the soul that actually leaves a mark, a signature after its gone.

To all the so-called "rejects" and "losers", labels given by a presumptous and blindly trend-following society, you're the ones that will be remembered. Not the ones that blend in with the flock.

Lightning Crashes

My computer and modem exploded yesterday. Hit by lightning through the power lines.
Lightning crashes, an old mother bursts.

ha. Sorry. This just reminds me so much of that old song by Live, for those of u who know the song.

Aw, man. This seriously sucks tho. I had so much on that computer. Sure, I had backup for a lot of it, but there was still 6 gigs or so that I had nowhere else to store. Not to mention 3 pages or so of my book that I hadnt bothered backing up yet. Usually, I back up every page I write as I write it, but this time, I thought "Naaaahhhh....this old-timin computer of mine's an invincible bitch. She'll never die." She died the next day.

Yeah yeah, I know this is pathetic. I'm whining over a replaceable computer, and over THREE MEASLY goddamn pages of a novel. I dont care, though. When I write something, its like I've visited somewhere. And you can only visit that place in that state once. Its like visiting Barselona in the summer. You only get to do it once in a year. You could lose your memory, and go there again to experiance it again, but it wont be the same. It might be better, it might be worse, but it wont be the same. You've lost that experiance forever. And I felt like I just lost a peice, albeit very small, of my experiance with these angry, sad, in love, desperate, ecstatically happy characters that are running around in my head dying to have their story told.

Anyway..I'm gonna go sulk over my pathetically small tragedy of the minute.
Then I'm gonna write some more, a better, more haunting adventure than ever before.