I hate how tidely i destroy friendships.
I have alterior motives secret even to myself.
Doublethink. Doublethink. O’Brain. Winston. Julia.
If homes not in his arms (have I met him yet? will i ever?) then where is it?
Filed under: Blogging
There are two kinds of nothing that a person can feel.
The peaceful kind. That Stargirl taught me about when I was eleven.
And there’s the other nothing.
Where you feel like it would be awfully nice to implode, but, you just don’t feel like doing anything.
I’m the physical embodiment of the latter.
I lost my white paint and I NEED my white paint… guh
I’d like to start off by saying that I’m sorry my camera is so shitty.
unfinished as hell
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: dream, dream interpritations, homosexuality, relationships, snogging, video games
Last night I had a dream I was inside of Fable 2. Like, in Albion trying to live my life.
So, lots of fun, wearing three cornered hats killing bandits and hobs. Wonderful.
I owned a home, behind the Demon Door in Oakfeild. I had a big ol’ hammer and a serious blunderbuss (when it come to killing things I really don’t like pulling punches) and Phil. I know at least one of my readers will remember Phil, my husband whom i situated first in my buggy in the gypsy village and then in the home behind the demon door, Serenity Farm.
Well, in the dream I was married to Phil. And, just like the game he was slightly effeminate and completely prudish. Which, when you’re married and rarely see each other is rather putting off.
So, one day I’m out adventuring and such and I go down into what appears to be a well but then is like this platform suspended over this HUGE empty underground cavern. Whatever.
I bash a few Hollow Men and come across a bandit. He’s a alone. And I, being generous, decide to slay him on the spot. Approach with my dagger (because, my dream is far more realistic, meaning one doesn’t use one’s hammer for everything) intending to cut his throat and I’m standing silently before him, unarmed and disrobed from the waist up. He had a slightly muscular build with a little fat on him. A round face with shortish red hair and patchy facial hair, he couldn’t have been a year older than me. And bright blue eyes and freckles.
It’s funny what sensations your brain can reproduce once you’ve already experienced them. Like kissing.
I drop the knife and we let our selves go. And it isn’t dirty or animalistic. It’s quick and a little rough, but tender. We slow down and sort of sway and we talked and he wasn’t a bandit.
And then, in sick connection with real life, I felt in my dream that feeling I got when I was talking seriously with several people at once on Unnamed Dating Site.
Ugh. Ouch.
So my dream just served to re illustrate two things for me.
1.) Red heads are hot as heck.
2.) Don’t start things you can’t finish.
This is part of why I’m taking a break from dating site stuff. I need time to emotionally recoup and get things together. And if I do decide to go back (I’m honestly quite up in the air about it at this point) NO LONG DISTANT RELATIONSHIPS.
I mean, wow, ouch. Those are so bad for you.
Anyway, have a grood day.
joshua
I cried. I really did. In the middle of class too.
Such an inspiring man. I’m so excited to be alive right now and to be able to experience these things.
But, I’m sure everyone said that during their own generation.
“Dude, we’re totally gonna like, form a union. This rules.”
“Fuck Lincoln. Slavery rules. I can’t wait to kill my own countrymen over the right to own people.”
“Thank God I can finally work in a factory instead of taking care of my family and not voting.”
And I think that’s gone on long enough.
Seriously though. This is an amazing time. And, regardless of that ridicules song, I am proud to be an American.
Filed under: Mysteries
When I was little I pulled the extra buttons off the bottom hem of my nice shirts and surreptitiously dropped them into the offering plate when it was passed to me at church. Did you ever do that?
I used to ask why we gave God money. I remember imagining a tube like the ones at the bank, that carried cash and checks and deposit slips (my grandmother was an accounttant) up to Heaven. Then I found out that the pastor got paid. Which seems bizarre to me. I mean, sure, he, as an indevidual preforms a service, but I always assumed that he had another job. It seemed weird to me for a church to circulate funds within itself. I tended to look at a church, as I still sort of do, as a single entity and not a collection of indeviduals.
I’m not sure where I was goign with this. I don’t attend them anymore. I’ll stop now.
Filed under: Blogging | Tags: bees, bioshock, character, choices, powers, questions
I feel the desire to add content to this blog.
Today I got asked a question. The question was “If you could only have one super power, what power would it be? Why?”
The first thoughts I had were the two usual powers that people tend to think of first. Invisibility and flight. Now, I have already long ago ruled out invisibility for myself. Even if I were to become impossible to detect by the eyes my unquenchable desire to constantly talk would definitely give me away. So, that’s out.
Then I considered flight, but, while I was considering flight I started thinking about Bioshock, a favorite video game of mine. Over the course of this game, you, the player, attain certain abilities and powers. These include but are not limited to freezing people and objects, causing people and objects to erupt in flames, shooting bolts of lightning at people and objects and releasing a very angry and very powerful (albeit, shortlived) swarm of bees from your hands to terrorise people and objects.
I like the idea of being able to do these things.
But, like invisibility, I had to look at these talents from a personal perspective. And I realize that I become aggravated so often and so intensely that were I able to perform such feats as lethal electrical discharge or contra-immolation I would probably end up committing homocide several times a week.
Not good for business.
So, I narrowed it down to either the joy of flight or the non-leathal bee attack (unless the target is allergic to bees). I began concidering these two things. I thought about flying, because, you know… it’s flying and all. And bees. And I realized a few things.
1.) I would only fly at night because I really really do not want the crazy attention that would be associated with the sight of a man in flight.
2.) I could only fly alone. No one to share impossible vistas with. No one to swoop down and score the dark glimmering surface of lakes with. No one’s hands holding mine while I bust through clouds and skim the tops of the verdant North Georgia oaks.
3.) These bees would not be in my direct control. They would live for about thirty seconds, stinging everything the moves and then die. An excellent get-away tactic. but I rarely have occasion to get-away.
4.) Being able to shoot bees would probably encourage me to be in more situations where getting away would be nessecary.
5.) If I could fly I could instantly run away from nearly any problem life throws a me. From a bad argument to a sabertooth’d tiger. So, instead of facing my problems and learning and growing from them, my main instinct in any situation would be too run. I’d have all the character and moral fiber of a seagull.
So, bees = schacanery of a probably increasingly serious nature and flight = ultimately destroying my ability to cope with anything.
*Sigh* I guess I’ll just be a parselmouth. Fun sometimes, but ultimately harmless to me and others.
I’m such a prude.
ATTERCOP 