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.
Monday, April 30, 2007
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??!?!?!??
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??!?!?!??
Thursday, April 26, 2007
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
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
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
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!
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?
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?
Monday, April 23, 2007
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
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
Sunday, April 22, 2007
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!!!!
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!!!!
Saturday, April 21, 2007
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
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
Friday, April 20, 2007
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
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
Thursday, March 8, 2007
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?
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?
Monday, February 19, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
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?
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?
Friday, February 9, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
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
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
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
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 ;)
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 ;)
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
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!
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!
Friday, January 26, 2007
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?
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.
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.
Monday, January 22, 2007
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
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
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
Sunday, January 21, 2007
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.
Bleh.
Well, wait here something I just thoug....nope. Nope.
its gone, i lost it.
Sue me.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
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.
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 :)
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 :)
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
You know?
I just realized that I feel a lot better after I write.
I just feel damn good after I've write.
When I finish a complete short story...now THATS something else entirely. The feeling when a short story comes full circle in my head, and I just finished typing it...damn..thats just...spiritually orgasmic? Cant really describe it. I always knew I loved that feeling..
But writing in general, even if its not a short story, just something, ANYTHING I put down on paper...er..computer screen..Afterwards, I just feel like I had a damn good meal.
I just realized that I feel a lot better after I write.
I just feel damn good after I've write.
When I finish a complete short story...now THATS something else entirely. The feeling when a short story comes full circle in my head, and I just finished typing it...damn..thats just...spiritually orgasmic? Cant really describe it. I always knew I loved that feeling..
But writing in general, even if its not a short story, just something, ANYTHING I put down on paper...er..computer screen..Afterwards, I just feel like I had a damn good meal.
Boring Holidays
Well, I think I've done just about everything I planned on doing these holidays. And now I've got 2 weeks to spare.
I'm goin mad bored out of my mind.
Maybe I'll just take a flight to cape town or something. Dunno. Gotta get my head clear before I jump back into my last 6 months of med-school.
You ever get that feeling of inadequacy when you set out to do something?
Deep down, you know you can, but your head kinda plays tricks on you, places limits on you, and so you retaliate by not doing that thing you love until you feel you can get it right..until that feeling of inadequacy dissapears, and you feel completely free to express yourself down to the honest depths of your soul in that action.
Well, thats what I've been feeling with my writing lately. Havent written my book in..hmm..a week and a half now. It might not seem like much, but when the story and the characters are running around barking orders in my head for every second of every day, you kinda start to miss writing about them after a week and a half, you know?
Anyway...I'm just talking crap for the sake of filling in this weeks blog. I think I'm gonna go try writing my book now, right after I put in my next post for my weekly story, Myth Misplaced...my other blog site. The links on the left above all the games, if ur interested in reading.
wallowed-in-self-absorbing-inadequacy-ly yours,
S
I'm goin mad bored out of my mind.
Maybe I'll just take a flight to cape town or something. Dunno. Gotta get my head clear before I jump back into my last 6 months of med-school.
You ever get that feeling of inadequacy when you set out to do something?
Deep down, you know you can, but your head kinda plays tricks on you, places limits on you, and so you retaliate by not doing that thing you love until you feel you can get it right..until that feeling of inadequacy dissapears, and you feel completely free to express yourself down to the honest depths of your soul in that action.
Well, thats what I've been feeling with my writing lately. Havent written my book in..hmm..a week and a half now. It might not seem like much, but when the story and the characters are running around barking orders in my head for every second of every day, you kinda start to miss writing about them after a week and a half, you know?
Anyway...I'm just talking crap for the sake of filling in this weeks blog. I think I'm gonna go try writing my book now, right after I put in my next post for my weekly story, Myth Misplaced...my other blog site. The links on the left above all the games, if ur interested in reading.
wallowed-in-self-absorbing-inadequacy-ly yours,
S
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Upside-down big toe
Well, just came back from soccer today. Play once a week with some friends.
Now I'm back, and I broke my toe. haha. It wasnt from the soccer itself; I was running to get the ball, and I jumped off the edge of the field (about 4 feet up) to land on the grass below, but there were sharp rocks hidden underneath the grass..so "crack". It didnt actually hurt at all. It just felt like it hit my toe very hard, so I took off my shoe to make sure it wasnt bleeding. And it wasnt, but the big toe was bent BACKWARDS. Like, pointing upwards. The joint was broken and bent the wrong way at 90 degrees. haha. CRAZY stufff. I couldnt believe it. I was just staring at it and wondering why I'm not feeling any pain for something that looks so fucked up. Looked like someone elses foot.
So I just grabbed the toe, pulled it hard and bent it back the right way..the "CLICK" was REALLLY loud! haha. And it still wasnt painfull, just slightly uncomfortable, like someone just punched me in the shoulder. Then I started walking, and started feeling really dizzy, and had to sit down. I was laughing the whole time at how something so fucked up could feel so not-that-bad. But then the pain hit. Like a my toe was being pulled, twisted and ripped off verrry slowly.
And I shut the fuck up.
haha. Just sat there, well actually, lay there until it got better. Dunno why I went into shock. I mean its just a broken toe, not a punctured lung. But I was sweating ice cold sweat the whole time, and everything I looked at was tinted in a near-blinding white.
crazy day.
Well, now I've wrapped it up, immobilized it and monitoring it until tomorow. If its still fucked up, then it means theres probably a hairline fracture, or worse on the toe bone, and I'd have to get it x-rayed and immobilized in plaster paris for 6 weeks. Otherwise, it just means the joint was unhinged, and just needs rest to prevent excess swelling, and should be fine in a few days.
At least this is what they taught me at med-school. The bastards better be right.
Now I'm back, and I broke my toe. haha. It wasnt from the soccer itself; I was running to get the ball, and I jumped off the edge of the field (about 4 feet up) to land on the grass below, but there were sharp rocks hidden underneath the grass..so "crack". It didnt actually hurt at all. It just felt like it hit my toe very hard, so I took off my shoe to make sure it wasnt bleeding. And it wasnt, but the big toe was bent BACKWARDS. Like, pointing upwards. The joint was broken and bent the wrong way at 90 degrees. haha. CRAZY stufff. I couldnt believe it. I was just staring at it and wondering why I'm not feeling any pain for something that looks so fucked up. Looked like someone elses foot.
So I just grabbed the toe, pulled it hard and bent it back the right way..the "CLICK" was REALLLY loud! haha. And it still wasnt painfull, just slightly uncomfortable, like someone just punched me in the shoulder. Then I started walking, and started feeling really dizzy, and had to sit down. I was laughing the whole time at how something so fucked up could feel so not-that-bad. But then the pain hit. Like a my toe was being pulled, twisted and ripped off verrry slowly.
And I shut the fuck up.
haha. Just sat there, well actually, lay there until it got better. Dunno why I went into shock. I mean its just a broken toe, not a punctured lung. But I was sweating ice cold sweat the whole time, and everything I looked at was tinted in a near-blinding white.
crazy day.
Well, now I've wrapped it up, immobilized it and monitoring it until tomorow. If its still fucked up, then it means theres probably a hairline fracture, or worse on the toe bone, and I'd have to get it x-rayed and immobilized in plaster paris for 6 weeks. Otherwise, it just means the joint was unhinged, and just needs rest to prevent excess swelling, and should be fine in a few days.
At least this is what they taught me at med-school. The bastards better be right.
Friday, December 15, 2006
welcome to south africa
my internets been cut off. Great. To make more money, the south african internet service providers give us a 2 or 3 gig download/bandwidth limit. If we use that much, we get cut off until we pay them 200 bucks for another 3 gigs. Its not because we dont have enough bandwidth in this country. Its only because a few people thought its a really clever way to make a lot of money out of the millions who need the internet here.
Anyway, I'm a little pissed off. I'm using a friends computer now. I'll continue posting normally in a couple weeks.
Shaker out.
Anyway, I'm a little pissed off. I'm using a friends computer now. I'll continue posting normally in a couple weeks.
Shaker out.
Thursday, December 7, 2006
Games Galore
Hey!
I was browsing through the profiles of some friends of mine, and one of them had this pac-man game on her site....so, she told me how she did it, and voila! Check it out, on the left, u'll find a whole bunch of games to play.
Um...which I suck at. Except for Pac man.
I was browsing through the profiles of some friends of mine, and one of them had this pac-man game on her site....so, she told me how she did it, and voila! Check it out, on the left, u'll find a whole bunch of games to play.
Um...which I suck at. Except for Pac man.
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
Droning of a zombified mind at 3am
What makes a person great is his or her humanity.
Not how much he pretends to be great, or what his acheivements are, or what terrible things he's done. Those are events and actions that can be changed or taken back, or improved upon. They're all circumstantial. A series of events can only define a person so much.
What makes him/her great is the reflection of his soul. The honesty and realness and sincerity of his words and actions that reflect on the observer what kind of person he/she really is. After all, through all the posing, and "cool-image"creating, what more can I possibly be except myself?
It takes faith to trust that your honest, true self is great. That there, in fact, is nothing wrong with you, and human definitions of "good" or "bad" are pretensive and inaccurate at best. Just trusting that you are what you are, and thats just fine, and then not being afraid of showing your brand of living through ur words and actions is enough. Media and society's ideology of "cool", "uncool", "good" and "evil" are all given to us because of some ultimately dissapointing personal motives, not because their based on any real principle. So screw them and their ideas of what images we should show society to make ourselves "acceptable".
um.
This is Doctor Phil, signing out.
Dont ask me why I'm saying this shit. I dont know where the hell its sprouting from. All I know is that its 3am, and I need to sleep.
Not how much he pretends to be great, or what his acheivements are, or what terrible things he's done. Those are events and actions that can be changed or taken back, or improved upon. They're all circumstantial. A series of events can only define a person so much.
What makes him/her great is the reflection of his soul. The honesty and realness and sincerity of his words and actions that reflect on the observer what kind of person he/she really is. After all, through all the posing, and "cool-image"creating, what more can I possibly be except myself?
It takes faith to trust that your honest, true self is great. That there, in fact, is nothing wrong with you, and human definitions of "good" or "bad" are pretensive and inaccurate at best. Just trusting that you are what you are, and thats just fine, and then not being afraid of showing your brand of living through ur words and actions is enough. Media and society's ideology of "cool", "uncool", "good" and "evil" are all given to us because of some ultimately dissapointing personal motives, not because their based on any real principle. So screw them and their ideas of what images we should show society to make ourselves "acceptable".
um.
This is Doctor Phil, signing out.
Dont ask me why I'm saying this shit. I dont know where the hell its sprouting from. All I know is that its 3am, and I need to sleep.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
ANNOUNCEMENT!!
GUYS!
ALL OF YOU WHO ARE INTO STORIES, I"M TELLING A STORY EPISODICALLY ON MY OTHER BLOG!
Its about a man who gets misplaced from ancient ancient times, straight into the middle of an operating theatre in modern times...The man holds a great secret, and has done a whole load of terrible/justifyiable things that have changed the course of history. Who is he? What are his intentions? What terrible thing did he do? How did he get here?!?
Every week, I'll release a new episode on this mans journey. I tellya, this guy is bigger and better than Conan...If you keep reading these episodes, you'll love him as much as I do!
So please, mosey on down to my other blog at: http://zohlnoush.blogspot.com/
ur feedback would be INVALUABLE!
Thanks :)
ALL OF YOU WHO ARE INTO STORIES, I"M TELLING A STORY EPISODICALLY ON MY OTHER BLOG!
Its about a man who gets misplaced from ancient ancient times, straight into the middle of an operating theatre in modern times...The man holds a great secret, and has done a whole load of terrible/justifyiable things that have changed the course of history. Who is he? What are his intentions? What terrible thing did he do? How did he get here?!?
Every week, I'll release a new episode on this mans journey. I tellya, this guy is bigger and better than Conan...If you keep reading these episodes, you'll love him as much as I do!
So please, mosey on down to my other blog at: http://zohlnoush.blogspot.com/
ur feedback would be INVALUABLE!
Thanks :)
WAIT! Number One- The Legend COntinues
Screw my old “my minds a numb slate, I don’t have anything to say” cRAP!
I have something to say.
I feel like a loser today.
Mind you, I’m usually the most energetic, optimistic, crazy-ass insane person I know.
But todays different. Due to a combination of lame-excuse-worthy circumstances, I feel like a complete loser.
People feel like losers everyday, they just dont have the guts to admit it, and I’m not ashamed to feel like one today.
Seriously, though. What do people usually do when they feel down in the gutter? They pretend to feel good, and go around talking to people with fake smiles and corny jokes that make themselves wonder how that crap came into their heads? I say screw it. I feel this way today, and I’m not gonna mask it. Once I recognize how shiT I feel, I can do something about it, either consciously or subconsciously.
Here here!
Here endeth the corny lesson of the day!
I’m gonna go eat….and continue feeling like a loser. Hopefully only till tonight.
Stupid feeling. I HATE THIS FEELING! GET THE F*&* OUTTA MY HEAD!! YOUR NOT WELCOME HERE!!!!!
Ahem.
Yeah.
Anyway.
Adios!
S
I have something to say.
I feel like a loser today.
Mind you, I’m usually the most energetic, optimistic, crazy-ass insane person I know.
But todays different. Due to a combination of lame-excuse-worthy circumstances, I feel like a complete loser.
People feel like losers everyday, they just dont have the guts to admit it, and I’m not ashamed to feel like one today.
Seriously, though. What do people usually do when they feel down in the gutter? They pretend to feel good, and go around talking to people with fake smiles and corny jokes that make themselves wonder how that crap came into their heads? I say screw it. I feel this way today, and I’m not gonna mask it. Once I recognize how shiT I feel, I can do something about it, either consciously or subconsciously.
Here here!
Here endeth the corny lesson of the day!
I’m gonna go eat….and continue feeling like a loser. Hopefully only till tonight.
Stupid feeling. I HATE THIS FEELING! GET THE F*&* OUTTA MY HEAD!! YOUR NOT WELCOME HERE!!!!!
Ahem.
Yeah.
Anyway.
Adios!
S
The First...
Hey, I'm Saman
I dont really have much to say right now...my minds in a numb state
So I'll start this with one of my old short stories..Its called Howls.
Dont worry, I'm not horror writer or anything..and I think this is the only story of mine that remotely borders on "scary"
Enjoy :)
Howls
“I am in a dark place. White lights stream through the cracks on the ceiling, and I can’t feel my legs.” Johnny Fingers opened up his mini pocket knife and coolly stabbed himself in the thigh. “Nope. Definitely can’t feel nothing.”
“How did you get there?” The voice on the other side of the walky-talky was cracked with static.
“I don’t know. I don’t…” Johnny frowned and squeezed his numb thighs through his thoughts. “I was trying to sleep, I left the window open. The stars…there were no clouds.” He wanted to cry, but his left arm suddenly started tingling. “Sheriff? Sheriff? My arm, I can’t move my arm anymore! Sheriff??”
“I’m here, Johnny, talk to me!”
“Its spreading, Sheriff! Its like a disease! Its spreading..” He suddenly doubled over. “My gut…burning like hell!”
Sheriff Dwayne looked over the roof of his car; his deputy looked at him nervously from the other side. “We can’t go in there, Sheriff. You know what they say about these woods.”
“We can’t just leave him there, Daley.” The sheriff slammed his door shut. “The man needs our help.”
“He said himself he’s in a closed space. How could he know it’s in the forest for sure? Maybe he’s just in someone’s basement with forest sounds playing on his tape recorder or something…”
“Daley!” Sheriff Dwayne walked briskly towards the woods as he called back. “Either come with me or stay behind. Either way, just shut up!”
Daley kept silent. Sheriff Dwayne heard the car door opening as he stepped into the woods. “Damn chicken.”
The moon was full, and the glowing clouds curled around it like snakes. Wolves howled and the Sheriff shouted out Johnny’s name. “Can you hear my voice, Johnny?” he spoke into the walky-talky. “Johnny?”
“Sheriff…” Johnny’s voice was weak. “I can’t move. I can barely keep this walky-talky at my mouth. I…” Johnny screamed, and Sheriff Dwayne heard the scream echo somewhere to his left.
“I can hear you Johnny! Hold on, I’m coming!” Dwayne scrambled through the thick forest brambles and almost tripped over the arching roots. “Keep talking, Johnny, I need to home in on you!”
“I think I hear you, Sheriff, please, hurry. I’m not sure how much longer I can talk.”
“Its okay, Johnny, I’m almost on you.” Wolves howled, and a dark figure moved in the distance ahead of him. “Wait a minute. Johnny? Is someone with you?” The figure was about to move out of obscurity when the sheriff ran through a stinging branch of leaves.
Squinting painfully, Sheriff Dwayne struggled through teary eyes to make out the huge figure standing just ahead of him. Desperately rubbing his burning eyes, the sheriff looked up again and suddenly staggered back at the thing towering over him.
The thing howled, and it was a terrible sound, like a wolf with a man’s intelligence. A man enraged beyond reason. Long brown fur covered its skin completely, and its angled eyes shimmered red.
Its expression changed suddenly from feral anger to one of total fear as it lifted the walky-talky in its hand and whispered into it. “I thought I was alone, Sheriff. Is there someone else nearby? I can barely move. Can’t see anything.”
The Sheriff dropped back in a panic and tried to scramble away from the thing. “Johnny?”
“I think I can hear you, Sheriff.” The monster continued to talk in a scared human voice that belied its form. “You should be right next to me. Can’t you see where I am? I cant move no more, Sheriff, help me. Plea…” The monster’s expression twisted back into one of angry hunger, and it dropped the walky-talky and hissed terribly as it fell on the screaming sheriff.
Wolf-like howls filled the glowing night sky, and the full moon stayed cruelly silent, as always.
I dont really have much to say right now...my minds in a numb state
So I'll start this with one of my old short stories..Its called Howls.
Dont worry, I'm not horror writer or anything..and I think this is the only story of mine that remotely borders on "scary"
Enjoy :)
Howls
“I am in a dark place. White lights stream through the cracks on the ceiling, and I can’t feel my legs.” Johnny Fingers opened up his mini pocket knife and coolly stabbed himself in the thigh. “Nope. Definitely can’t feel nothing.”
“How did you get there?” The voice on the other side of the walky-talky was cracked with static.
“I don’t know. I don’t…” Johnny frowned and squeezed his numb thighs through his thoughts. “I was trying to sleep, I left the window open. The stars…there were no clouds.” He wanted to cry, but his left arm suddenly started tingling. “Sheriff? Sheriff? My arm, I can’t move my arm anymore! Sheriff??”
“I’m here, Johnny, talk to me!”
“Its spreading, Sheriff! Its like a disease! Its spreading..” He suddenly doubled over. “My gut…burning like hell!”
Sheriff Dwayne looked over the roof of his car; his deputy looked at him nervously from the other side. “We can’t go in there, Sheriff. You know what they say about these woods.”
“We can’t just leave him there, Daley.” The sheriff slammed his door shut. “The man needs our help.”
“He said himself he’s in a closed space. How could he know it’s in the forest for sure? Maybe he’s just in someone’s basement with forest sounds playing on his tape recorder or something…”
“Daley!” Sheriff Dwayne walked briskly towards the woods as he called back. “Either come with me or stay behind. Either way, just shut up!”
Daley kept silent. Sheriff Dwayne heard the car door opening as he stepped into the woods. “Damn chicken.”
The moon was full, and the glowing clouds curled around it like snakes. Wolves howled and the Sheriff shouted out Johnny’s name. “Can you hear my voice, Johnny?” he spoke into the walky-talky. “Johnny?”
“Sheriff…” Johnny’s voice was weak. “I can’t move. I can barely keep this walky-talky at my mouth. I…” Johnny screamed, and Sheriff Dwayne heard the scream echo somewhere to his left.
“I can hear you Johnny! Hold on, I’m coming!” Dwayne scrambled through the thick forest brambles and almost tripped over the arching roots. “Keep talking, Johnny, I need to home in on you!”
“I think I hear you, Sheriff, please, hurry. I’m not sure how much longer I can talk.”
“Its okay, Johnny, I’m almost on you.” Wolves howled, and a dark figure moved in the distance ahead of him. “Wait a minute. Johnny? Is someone with you?” The figure was about to move out of obscurity when the sheriff ran through a stinging branch of leaves.
Squinting painfully, Sheriff Dwayne struggled through teary eyes to make out the huge figure standing just ahead of him. Desperately rubbing his burning eyes, the sheriff looked up again and suddenly staggered back at the thing towering over him.
The thing howled, and it was a terrible sound, like a wolf with a man’s intelligence. A man enraged beyond reason. Long brown fur covered its skin completely, and its angled eyes shimmered red.
Its expression changed suddenly from feral anger to one of total fear as it lifted the walky-talky in its hand and whispered into it. “I thought I was alone, Sheriff. Is there someone else nearby? I can barely move. Can’t see anything.”
The Sheriff dropped back in a panic and tried to scramble away from the thing. “Johnny?”
“I think I can hear you, Sheriff.” The monster continued to talk in a scared human voice that belied its form. “You should be right next to me. Can’t you see where I am? I cant move no more, Sheriff, help me. Plea…” The monster’s expression twisted back into one of angry hunger, and it dropped the walky-talky and hissed terribly as it fell on the screaming sheriff.
Wolf-like howls filled the glowing night sky, and the full moon stayed cruelly silent, as always.
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