Showing posts with label niceeyes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label niceeyes. Show all posts

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Devoided

Devoided of any inspiration or creativity, I'm still trying to find some kind of stability that will take me to new waves and forms of compatibility with the world. Needless to say... no new deviation.
... I feel deep hatred towards those who I once loved.
Is it Christmas approaching that makes the sublime smell of deep dark Tartarus so irresistible?
me, the winter lover, lives now in contradiction; for as my most natural and defining event of the year nears closer (the winter solstice) I find more and more hatred towards me and those around me.
My nature contradicts the artificial environment I've been placed. Either that or I am really helium's strayed disciple...
Has the sun and summer really been my home all along?
Can’t help but admit that I have always wondered about the light in long blonde hair and the look and taste of wet bare skin.
If summer is my real nature, I can’t help but say that my true nature in fact makes out of me feel most alien within my surroundings; for I have not felt more inadequate than under the light and heat of our systems central star.
For now I can only say that as days grow shorter, my despise of those around gets bigger... and I yearn for loneliness, snow, and northern lights almost unbearable.
I hope hell is cold, for is where I most desire to go... since in the warmth of heaven I would just feel like a smashed cockroach on the wall... disgusting, out of place, hated... and still moving my little antennas, keeping the attention of those who have murdered me, all in awe and puzzled with the mystery of how was it that without any part or limb working, I managed to keep on holding to my fragile sense... smell..
I smell the sublime dead heavy fog from Tartarus calling on to me... yet I see no entrance, or way to say good bye to those once loved and are now hated...
I repeat myself. 

(40 days late)

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Yunalesca - A public love letter

Sometimes, I have this feeling... you all know how hard is for me to know exactly what I'm feeling. I get this feeling for someone, that I can’t precisely put a name on it. It’s a sense... of vastness... the same sense of vastness that is produced by suddenly lying down on the floor and looking up to the immense celestial vault. It’s all so big; it’s all so magnificent... so out of grasp.

A careful study of scientist through history will result in many of them, if not all of them, reaching to out god when they found themselves at the very edge of their knowledge... they all at some point called upon god, because their understanding of the world was limited... there must be some divine, greater than life, force behind it.
Now, of course it’s easy, if not common, to get this feeling when looking at the stars, the movement of the planets, the tide and waves of the ocean. All of these things... of course produce this overwhelming, tear filling emotion.
However, I dare now say I have found it somewhere else.... and odd place.
Sometime around winter 2007 I went online to a certain forum and search for Yunalesca there. 88 messages he had posted since 2003, a fact that I had quickly forgotten. Almost a year later, I had fallen in love with this very Yunalesca. I fell, in love with the sweet prince. And in certain occasions I had felt this vertiginous feeling I'm talking about inside me when thinking too much about him, or talking to him... yet I think I never dared faced my fear and looked straight at it. I had always took a deep breath and recoiled.
But something happened a week ago. An emotion this big, so vast had been approaching for almost a week.
I know... this sound insane, but I swear I have been having the feeling I'm going to feel something... But that's how it was... I knew it was coming,
When my heart broke oh so very easily with silence... I wondered if I had gone insane. Then, when later something like picking up the phone felt like being spit on the face... I knew it was probably the very end of emotions that was coming near.
Then after almost 12 hours together and not talking and hating and fighting, a single hug erased it all and fixed it all... then when he jumped excited after seeing the batman toys on burger king and when he joined me to buy superwoman... and listened carefully for a story that did not make much sense. Then... I knew it was something spectacular.
I should have seen it coming... when while I was going for a coke while he waited for the sandwich it seemed like an awful distance to be apart from. Should’ve seen it coming, when he and I agreed we wanted the same thing on the food court XD or when we were looking for an exotic dish... and it turned out to be a panzerotti... (I think I cannot think about that situation and smile with all my heart.)
I probably should have known I was going to miss him 24/7 without rest or sleep... when I saw him getting drenched in the park, or how he laughed at me falling down in the fountain (I really did fall down unintentionally) and how incredibly hot he looked switching pants on the Emo store.
I was sure I was going to explode emotionally soon when I was looking straight into his eyes at night, like I did on the ride back home and when you chuckled every time I lost my wallet. And with the surprised eyes you stared at me because I was oh so drunk... and how comfortable his lap was while he played videogames.
And when you looked down to the floor when I saw you wearing you Ben10 boxers in the shower.
Today I went back to this forum... and looked at the 88 messages he had written there. And it hit me.
He. Exists.
He was there before me.
He is there without me...
He is unreachable.
All this messages written long before he came into my life... they are his. Yet I don't know the person who wrote them. I can’t turn back time and meet him... I can’t figure out what was on his head... did he suffer? Was he joyful? Was he happy? Even oddly enough... why do I feel love and care for the words of this being that I did not know back then and do not know right now as he is now only the one I do know.
I once said... it takes a lifetime. To know someone. But it’s not true... it takes more. Not even in all my lifetime will I ever get to know that Yunalesca that wrote and spoke so few before me. It comforts me that I believe in more than one lifetime to know that there will be another one where I can know him completely.
This is probably the weirdest love letter I've ever written. And I say love letter, because of all feelings only love could measure up and proclaim this one I own.
And this is probably a very long dull love letter for everyone indeed, but us. But I don't think I could bear speak to him right now... I don’t think I could lose the knot in my throat, or get a hold of my tears...
On his presence, all so big... so sacred, so divine
What kind of love letter would this be if I didn't say what all love letters attempt to convey?
I love you. 

(10 days late)

Saturday, November 26, 2011

I came to that realization early this year...It was my motto. I picked it from an Art history class; my teacher said that it was one of Andy Warhol's catchphrases. To understand Warhol is to understand contemporary culture, consumes, the culture of the image. "He was a very vulnerable person" my teacher said. "That's why he used a hairpiece and speak funny", added. Warhol is the incarnation of "pop"; he made a celebrity out of himself, a lie that everyone was comfortable with. Just like those prefabricated boy bands, contemporary divas, sodas and products.In a moment, I realized I was just like any of those. "The Prince" is the smartest boy in college, he is so noble, so pure, well behaved, gentle, responsible, talented...That's the way most people see me. That's my "alternate" identity.I started questioning myself after a huge creative dry I had at the beginning of the year. I didn't feel smart, talented, responsible...The idea of "The Prince" collapsed...well, at least just for me. But at some point, I stopped caring about it. Do I have to live up to that idea? Why it is wrong that people sees you in a way that you're not? Who’s the real one? I always say: as long as none gets hurt, there's no problem with it.It's not like I act out...or tell lies...When I was at genius school they said that intelligence is an "intended adaptive capacity" and I think I've taken that definition to build my relationships with the world. It works for me...Now that I remember, it was that Warhol period one of the main reasons I ended up in vampire freaks, to create an idea of myself, to make the pictures say something for me that I can't say. I am SO not being fake with Xag, but I'm just not used to open up to other people. I'm just afraid that after discovering me, they have me at their hands...and that way they have a right to reject me. Something like it happened with my female friends at college I told them some of my most important things, I told one of them that I am BL, but at the next day...it was like nothing...they didn't deserve to know, I'm regret. (Bitches)More than anyone on this earth, Xag deserves to know how I am... 

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Now a toast... To poor decisions!

"You see, I think there comes a time when a man has to ask himself whether he wants a life of happiness or a life of meaning.[...]

Sometimes I have the odd feeling that I can choose to be someone else, sometimes I do … I feel if I tried a bit harder I could like so many things I despise…

Now a toast... 
To poor decisions!

(8 days late)

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

There are some perks to living in a warzone...

There are some perks to living in a warzone... first you develop the ability of sleeping through almost anything; Gunshots and minor explosions for example. You get to see the dark side of life since forever, you learn to live in a truly rotten society (you guys think your health care is broken? here is basically inexistent!). You learn the rules to live in no man’s land, to not expect anything from your government and that the answer to most (if not all) problems is definitely money.
You learn to look beyond the general moral rules of good and evil. The values system is different, it does not hurt at all that fellow citizens dies in a massacre, it doesn’t hurt that children are starving, that your maid, the woman who babysit you your whole life, prepared your meals, and washed your underwear kidnapped children of others people for ransom in her spare time.
You learn that one block away there is a center for prostitution and drugs (not to consume... but to export of course). You learn that politics are corrupt to the bone, and that the downside of that matter is not to be in it... 
You also learn to objectively look at a situation no matter the amount of casualties. You look beyond the massacre to see whose fault is it really is, not only here but anywhere else, being Iraq or Vietnam, it does not matter the time or space.
But most importantly you find that problems cannot be solved, at least not without extreme radical change (and that unfortunately means taking the rough decisions)... so where does this leaves this image that Colombian is passion? That Colombia is a better land for tomorrow... where does this leave all our goodness and expectations...
Well today the country was indeed paralyzed for an hour, where everybody just halted to show the terrorist that we had enough. Now, I'm very critical of my country's situation, but I must admit I had not experienced this ever, and god knows there have been marches, manifestations and all sorts of crap during my lifetime. Yet, today was something Huge. Why I say that? Because I was involved me... it reached me, I live on a part of the city that is pretty much excluded from what happens and it even got here... it was something... an hour where you wear a white shirt and say: "yes we can still dream of something better"


Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Just Shoot Me

Just Shoot Me
I live in country where pretty much a lot of people die every day in a violent conflict that has lasted for years... so why am I not one of those? 
Why hasn't just someone come along and just shoot me, and set me free form this existence. And it’s not that I'm in pain and I can’t take life anymore... I'm just so bored; bored out of my existence that getting shot seems like just something that could be.... well... just something...
I'm going through of one of those moment when I see myself objectively, and I'm nauseous... this guy described my videos as ...
An interesting way of transmitting sensations though simple things...
This is the sweetest way to put it...

(3 days late)

Monday, May 9, 2011

There is so much inside me bursting to get out

There is so much inside me bursting to get out. 
I've been not feeling well, I've been sick, I've been lying and lied to... don't know what to do, everything seems like this huge endless lie... but it isn't... or is it?... I've always considered myself a great liar... who in turn would make me also a great actor or, better yet, a great story teller.
Perhaps that’s why my life feels like a lie, I have this image of myself that is far from being any real sense... am I novelist' am I a writer?... it’s been months since I wrote anything for my novel.... there hasn't been a day I don't think about it, I think about it constantly, endlessly every detail, the whole plot, sometimes I think so much about it overwhelms me.
There is this contest... I could try to do something... however I know I won’t make it. I wake up with the thought that I have to straighten my hair if I want to feel good today... how empty is that? 
Then I spend the next 30 minutes looking at the guy in the mirror, who depending on the day, at random, is the most disgusting being on the planet or maybe not, so I stop, my hair half done, I look myself in the eyes and then I see it... the future, my future, I know how things will go, I know how everything will pan out, not in detail, but the overall plot.
I just keep thinking... Someone living my life should be happy…

(5 days late)

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Christmas is a stupid holiday

Christmas is a stupid holiday, not as stupid as New Year’s but stupid enough.
First we must admit it’s all about the money and the presents, like one broke girl said.
“The holidays are totally about money! It’s about spending money to buy things to stuff into the giant black sucking hole in the center of each of us that reminds us life is hard and then we die.” 

It’s not about love, joy to the world, or the celebration of the birth of Christ... It’s a huge commercial complot to exploit us and taker our money.
But who am I kidding… this is not why I hate Christmas...
I hate Christmas, because it’s supposed to be perfect and never is. This time of year comes, and it’s in our subconscious that this should be a time for happiness and sharing with our families. But it’s never like that…
I personally don’t love my extended family, with whom I have been forced to share this dreadful holiday. Why you wonder? It’s a nice family… a good looking, a wealthy family, a kind family… I don’t fit. I just don’t. 
The people closer to me is the people I’m more distant emotionally, no one in my family knows me, and the only person I depended in making Christmas better is across the ocean having the time of her life. 
As I sat alone in the middle of the crowd drinking Colombiana I realized how alone and pathetic I was:
First the only person I was expecting to hear a merry Christmas from was a 60 year old in England.
Second, that the only person I could ask in a date was not very good looking 15 year old ameinian boy I met online… and knowing that if I ever meet him, he’ll be so disappointed; I’m much uglier than what you see on webcam.
Everyone else is gone… just gone… And to think this promised to be such a great Christmas season. 

(29 days late)

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

God?
 Yeah?
 I have problem
No! Really?! 
No need to be sarcastic.
... The girl I like talks to you…
 But I think you tell her something different than you tell me so... l, are you lying?
 Of course not.
Lying would imply saying something that is not true, and everything is true.
 She thinks I am a sinner 
You are sinner
You told her you spoke to god.

She asked me what you answered me back when I spoke to you... I lied 
What did you say? 

I said you always replied the same thing: yes.
 Well, you certainly omitted my neat sense of humor and sarcasm. 

I know... I don’t know why id did it.
 You don’t believe it’s me anymore
I do.... I do believe this is you
 Then why didn’t you tell her. 
I don’t know... 
I guess I was afraid I would come out as a raving lunatic, I told her... I was god. 
Which is true? 
Yeah, for you and me who understand it? 
But for her... must have sounded insane... 
Can you talk to her? 
I will 
Thanks she is bit stubborn
 I know

\(4 days late)

Monday, May 10, 2010

The authentic details of the extraordinary suicide of Miss Moyes

The authentic details of the extraordinary suicide of Miss Moyes

The Times, for example, fully described the gory details of the appearance of the body but used Latinate terms like "cranium" and "integument" to sound clinical rather than sensational:

Upon examination of the body, it was found that the spine was fractured as also the back of the cranium, but the features are in no way disfigured, save by the appearance of coagulated blood forced from the nostrils, eyes, and mouth by the sudden concussion; the left arm is severed just above the elbow, and is only retained in its place by the integuments and the sleeve of the dress. (LT, 12 Sep. 1839, p. 435, col. 4)

The Observer, though an upper-middle to upper-class paper, offered its Sunday readers something far more dramatic than such dissecting-room language: [39/40]

Her left arm, near the shoulder, came in contact with the bar, and was so violently severed that the part cut off flew over the iron railings several yards into the square. After striking the bar, the body fell an a tub containing a lilac plant, which it broke in pieces, as well as several flower pots, placed on the right side of the door. Not a sign of life, except some contortions of the muscles of the legs and arms, was discernible on the body when it was picked up. (Observer, 15 Sep. 1839, p.1 col. 6)

http://www.victorianweb.org/books/suicide/03.html


Thursday, August 21, 2008

I feel sick.

I feel sick, im sad, im terribly depressed. and im sure that not something new. what the hell am i doing? where am i headed? ive been skipping school, and getting terrible grades. Im in my senior year, and im suposed to head to collage next year. I dont have what it takes to be in a good university, so im just headed to the neaest one.  

People I know are shutting me out again. I don’t know how to react this time. I guess I’ll just get lost like I did last time. I’m a freak, I know that, I don’t speak or talk easily. Which kind of bores people round me and I’m neither fun nor funny in any way, and it’s more pathetic when I try to be. I shouldn’t be allowed to tell jokes and I stink at playing anything. That’s why people hate me; I’m just too uncomfortable to be with.
I’m just some miscellaneous compound of things I like but that completely repel each other. I’m neurotically organized so I’m not happy or comfortable anywhere that is not my room, and everything it’s in its exact and perfect place. I feel every single thing I do it’s incomplete and has something wrong, that leads for me to start doing things and never be happy about them. Then I love the mess the mud, the wedgie, the bullying, the running the chaos.
I give no good first impression and when you are around me you can only get tired, because I’m tired, I’ve always been. I’m working on a book you know, and I hate it when I think about it, and I feel it’s just lame and stupid. But when I read I love it and I don’t find a way to change it. I’m stuck in the second chapter! I don’t know who to continue with it. I try to write other parts of the story but words don’t come out. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!
I’m so lost, I’m screwing my future every second that passes and I’m not enjoying the present, and I hate my past. Where should I go, what should I do?
I’m lost, and I know I’m not alone in this. But what does it help with when actually no one knows the way. I want to believe in something, but I don’t know what.
I need to have faith.
I only have faith.
Faith in that there is something more in me and the world that I have not yet discovered. Just something, anything.

(7 days late)

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Wanting To Die

Wanting To Die
Poem by Anne Sexton

Since you ask, most days I cannot remember.
I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage.
Then the almost unnameable lust returns. 
Even then I have nothing against life.
I know well the grass blades you mention,
the furniture you have placed under the sun. 
But suicides have a special language.
Like carpenters they want to know which tools.
They never ask why build. 
Twice I have so simply declared myself,
have possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy,
have taken on his craft, his magic. 
In this way, heavy and thoughtful,
warmer than oil or water,
I have rested, drooling at the mouth-hole. 
I did not think of my body at needle point.
Even the cornea and the leftover urine were gone.
Suicides have already betrayed the body. 
Still-born, they don't always die,
but dazzled, they can't forget a drug so sweet
that even children would look on and smile. 
To thrust all that life under your tongue!-
that, all by itself, becomes a passion.
Death's a sad Bone; bruised, you'd say, 
and yet she waits for me, year after year,
to so delicately undo an old wound,
to empty my breath from its bad prison. 
Balanced there, suicides sometimes meet,
raging at the fruit, a pumped-up moon,
leaving the bread they mistook for a kiss, 
leaving the page of the book carelessly open,
something unsaid, the phone off the hook
and the love, whatever it was, an infection.



One day like any other, October 4, 1974, Anne returned home, (she had already said goodbye to her friends), and devoted herself to drinking vodka, at some point she got up, with the vodka in hand, went to her car, turned on the radio, started the engine and waited ...

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Resume

Resumé

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.


BY DOROTHY PARKER


Wednesday, April 4, 2007

No laughs or tears, just emptiness growing, taking over.

I should accept who I am and leave the worrying behind; accept I am like anything or everyone else. Just go with the flow. I wanted to be different, go against the flow, make a difference, and just be special. Bisexuality is the halfway.
The person I used to be, no longer exists. I’ve become one of them… another boring despicable muggle. I am just like any other person, I am evolving backwards.
Now, I hate philosophy, I’m constantly coursing and speaking shit. I’ve become either an atheist or worse: a blind believer. I no longer believe in anything or acre about living or dying. People I thought I once knew no longer exist.
When I get home, I’ll take a fully clothed shower and spend some time in front of the mirror fully soaked and try to find myself.
No laughs or tears, just emptiness growing, taking over.


Tuesday, April 3, 2007

School-days, I believe, are the unhappiest in the whole span of human existence.

School-days, I believe, are the unhappiest in the whole span of human existence. They are full of dull, unintelligible tasks, new and unpleasant ordinances, brutal violations of common sense and common decency. It doesn't take a reasonably bright boy long to discover that most of what is rammed into him is nonsense, and that no one really cares very much whether he learns it or not.
H. L. Mencken

Why do I study?  Why am I studying? Why am I wasting my time this way? It’s no secret I don’t enjoy school, in any way, I hate it in every way... I hate my closed-minded friends, gym class, the self-proclaimed know-it all teachers, the useless subjects (including the ones I chose), that without counting; waking up at 5:30 every day, the soft-core bullies, the choking, the lame humiliation, people in my bus, overpriced things at the copy shop, long lines at the cafeteria, kneeling down every time to open my locker, feeling so stupid... etc.
But now I think of something that does really bothers me of being in school, I simply CANT be ME; That is, the person that writes this, it’s another person than the one that goes to school or lives at home. I don’t know if I’m making sense, it’s like if when I sit and write over here, another person takes over... Never the less the person that writes here is the person I’m more comfortable with being. I like being the person that writes. Unfortunately it doesn’t exist anywhere else. The moment I speak to someone else, he disappears and runs to put all kinds of masks to show the person, everyone think they know. And there comes times where masks are so many and so heavy that I suffocate and I can’t breathe and is like if suddenly I had stopped controlling it, like if I had lend my body to someone. And now it seems everyone is living and I'm just watching and I could just break down and no one would notice or know why it is.
That’s why I can’t take it anymore, what recently happened at my diary was the top, having to close it down just because someone at school had found it… the fact of having to shut up because of my school, has been one of the most humiliating things in my life. I got totally silenced by the world that surrounded me, because of a stupid guy with a promise to make my life a living hell... 
Sometimes... (Like all the time) I’d like to leave school. just stop feeling a moron and numb, stop hiding who I am, start doing something I really enjoy, cut all those fake friends and stupid jokes; no more sadistic comments, immature sayings, gum in my hair, laughs at my back and other nasty things I don’t want to remember. Maybe if I leave school leave school, I could keep on studying at home, at my own rhythm... no pressures, no more tests or homework; it will all depend on me.
Self-sufficiency, it would be the first mayor thing done by myself.
I just don’t know how to sit down again one hour in front of an exam without a clue of what I have to do, and watch how the time goes on, with my paper clear and my head in blank, waiting for someone who will miraculously see you in all your despair and help you. Or maybe just stop studying at all... I could live up by my talents or something... of course despite the fact I have none.
In school everything is just so unfair, tons and tons of homework. They say that that kind of work is to raise our academic levels and have better grades than the ones last year, but how can you raise our academic levels by pushing us to hard in one year without previous preparation, twice as work the ones had last year, less recuperation opportunities and an increased demand for quality in our homework (?). Besides there’s a lot of time for small petty humiliations, all you get there are insults and stupid questions, besides comments and orders from the hideous teachers.
Maybe I’m just not feeling right, maybe because after gym class "is" impossible to feel right. First you are all sweaty and dirty; from the entire pushups you miserably try to do on the ground because of being the last to get to the teacher, after running 3 times around the football field. But generally there is the subconscious bonus of seeing other cute and hot guys in the same state. Now that is a great thing for specially two cuties in my class. One is a tall blond guy, with a really great body, dirty blond hair, charismatic personality and what really makes it unique is that is very, very, very smart.
I remember that during my first year in that school I had a dream about him; we were in a peer together and I can’t remember why he jumped in the water fully clothed... and then I guess he took of his clothes off in the water leaving his boxers, and gave them to me, then I would throw them far away and he would swim to get it and put it on again... it was really hot and fun... 
He, like most guys who have a great body at school, has an unconsciously method of showing it, so we, all the fat wimps feel more as losers than the rest most of time, the amazing ability of making the uniform look good on them, in a kind of sporty way, besides keeping always the shirt up in the most creative ways, so we all can see his fabulous abs, besides having the pants kind of pulled down so the underwear is always visible.
To say there are no hotties in my school would be a major lie, there are many, especially in 7th, 8th and 9th grade. Some with beautiful eyes, a cute face, or a great body... most of them I keep on watching all the time and I have to keep reminding myself not to stare much.
School is just a place to be unhappy, stupid laws, and absolute monarchy by teacher’s directives or soft-core bullies. It’s a place where people live with fear and confusion, mindless acts and memorizing useless and absurd stuff instead of learning. 
I just don’t know what’s going on ... I had a problem with my head group teacher, (which happens to be my head teacher too :$ ) we started arguing about something really stupid until she came with the most stupid argument I’ve ever heard:
- You do it when I say it, it’s not your choice - she said already freaked out - why? - I asked reasonably - just because- she replied even more stupidly - and if you don’t like it you can leave! - - well thanks...- I said, and left the class room.
It all happened so fast I couldn’t swallow it... what?!? It’s not my choice?!? “Just because?!?” what kind of argument is that? What kind of answer is that for an almost 50 year’s old shrunken woman? I mean she obviously studied math because has terrible problems with self-esteem… I would I looked like her. Maybe she needs to follow orders and formulas so she doesn’t have to think about anything… and avoid the fact of her own existence. Why do I always think of what to say when is too late?
but after all I had a chance to say part of what I said, when she handed me the detention card where I am supposed to give my opinion on what I think, and I’m sure I told Delilah something she didn’t like, that’s why she went down to the principal and took me out of chemistry class to chat or I better say criticize and fend for herself.
What I wrote was something like this:
“Who are you to decide what is ok or not? Beside I think the teacher should learn to give a more strong argument than 'just because’, answers should be according to the age… and oh, by the way... it is always my choice."
But just as I came in the comments on school moral started, mental disorder or nonsense rebellion started, all kinds of judgments against me were heard in the place, but specially bothered me the one that said that I wasn’t reasonable with my words and thoughts. I tried to say what I thought and argument my position but words failed me I suppose... And I started to be at their side. I hate that so much! Beside it was two against one and that is cowardly. The principal treated me as a mental idiot that could not understand where I was standing on.
First they said I had insulted Delilah’s moral authority... is there any moral authority? Actually I don’t think there is, but if there should be one, that, it should be mine, the one I choose, not one someone has imposed upon me. Laws should not be imposed they should be proposed and accepted by consent. For me, my answer to Delilah’s comments might have not been what she wanted or expected, but surely was what I need it. If I had stayed quiet and obeyed would have meant to give up my rights and thoughts, to kneel down and just repent, was giving up any value to what I think or what I am.
My dilemma: "why study?" there could be an award such as "knowledge" (yeah right) or a diploma to work or get to collage. But there could be a menace too, like the fear to be a looser (my case) or to be afraid of rejection by the family or friends.
Why it is the guys at my school are so into soft-core bullying stupidly, yeah not into hard bullying just common nonsense bullying. Why are guys so stupid, it’s like having people emotionally and spiritually retarded, maybe I’m generalizing and I know it’s not fair? This reminds me of something a girl said "men have a huge space in the brain, between thinking and feeling, that’s why they can feel and think but not at the same time". It just sometimes seems men are not thinking anything at all... but.... that’s impossible.
I mean chase a ball for two hours... complain about it and plan strategies to do it better the next time. Just like hazing. In my school, it may be funny the first time, and maybe the second, but when you keep on doing it the same way and expecting a different reaction is just maniac. I wish they would just stop it or do it really hard, for a change.
Why it is that abandoning school is seen as such a bad thing or ridiculous. My head group once said something I considered very offensive. "You only exist to study". She obviously has no idea of what is going on my mind, and how much I need to believe that is not true. But anyway, don’t teachers get that they have no rights if we don’t have them, I mean we are the ones paying a miserable salary so they just speak their shit, and hold up their tongue when it comes to their thoughts or comments.
I am just so tired of feeling so stupid, I can’t defend an argument and it always seems I’m making the worst ridiculous thing, and no one understands me or gets me and I feel so dumb... maybe I’m just retarded, I don’t get things the way most people do, and that makes me stupid. Even the closest person to me in school keeps criticizing everything I do and say all the time, everyone thinks I am the most immature being ever, the dumb one with no logic or reason. A good-for-nothing, idiot boy, with absolutely no talent for anything. I’m so tired of people thinking I am stupid, I can see it in their faces and little dissimulated glances at me.
Sometimes I just hallucinate with someone who will come out from nowhere and make my life something new and special.
Maybe I should be a dumb slave of the system study a boring career, go to church and throw everything I believe to hell because anyway I’d be unhappy.
“Always expect the worse and you won’t be disappointed”

I don’t want to belong to that school anymore. It is funny how the emigrant effect caused by violence can be seen on my class room.
It only takes two idiots (like in real life) to stand on each side of the classroom and start kicking a ball really hard to each other, without caring (or on purpose) hitting anyone who is between them. People afraid of getting hit, start to silently move to one of the sides to be save or if you are stupid enough even take part on the game
“Stupidity does not know any limits” - - - /o/ - - - “there’s no worst thing than stupidity in action”
I heard a guy talking in school with his friend about this same problem; he didn’t want to continue with this, he was tired of school as I am. After saying that, one of his friends answered this: “I know how you feel my friend, believe me, everyone at school goes through that… and that same feeling is going to last for about two months and then there’ll be nothing else but resignation”.

(1 day late)

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Leaping tiger gorge




The Naxi people in china...
"Couples used to plan their suicide well in advance, to take care of all the details ... [...] The lovers dressed in their best clothes and went to a nearby mountain, where they built a simple abode of branches and flowers: They spent their last moments drinking, singing and dancing. And then committed suicide by throwing themselves from the mountain, hanging themselves on a tree or ingesting poisonous substances. "

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

[…]  A religion teacher I had, tried to help me once and told me this story:
There was once a town, with a church and a priest that was so kind and devoted, everyone thought of him as a saint. Once it rained so much that the town flooded they tried to evacuate the town, but the priest was not willing to do so himself. He had been such a good person that he knew god will save him. So then when the water was 1m high a man in a boat came and told him to jump in so he would be saves, but the priest told him that he wouldn’t, because god will save him.
Then when water was over 3m high a helicopter came to rescue the priest that was swimming desperately, but the priest wouldn’t get onto the ladder, he was convinced that god was going to save him for.

The water kept growing and the priest drowned.

 Once he got to heaven the first thing he said was – “god? Why didn’t you try to save me?” – God surprised, answered – “I didn’t try?First I sent the police to evacuate the zone, then I sent a boat to rescue you, and then I sent a helicopter to save your life. You were the one who didn’t want to be rescued” –
What do we learn from this story? […]


Saturday, October 28, 2006

I read a quote about friends

I read a quote about friends, it was something like...

"You get more friends getting interested in people, than getting people interested in you"
Am I really interested in people? I was convinced I was, but now I remember to many people saying the opposite, especially my mom, she has always nagged me saying my attitude towards anything is: 
Me first, I next, and whatever it's left is for me to!

I don't think now I’m a comprehensive, empathic person, I have always thought of other guys at my school as empty, stupid, simple persons… Is there something I'm not seeing? What is it? 
This is why I can’t get any friends, I'm totally blind to other people, their thoughts and feelings, and how do I solve that? I really want to be interested in someone else's life. But I'm just not open to meet other people, because my immediate reaction is: "he is a jerk." And with the amount of jerks in this world… can you blame me?




Friday, October 27, 2006

100 years of loneliness


Some boy in the bus tried to psycho-analyze me once. He said something I'd never forget, "you fake a giggle once in a while, but you haven't really laughed in a lot, lot, of time"... It makes me think if I have ever really laughed at all.
Not long ago I wanted to be bullied really hard, having someone to push me, wedgie me and rip my underwear, kegging me in public. I was drunk with the idea of falling… low, wanted to fall as low as it was possible. Then I realized that I didn't want hate for hate’s sake, if someone wanted to keg me and wedgie me it had to be my friend. I don't want to get hazed by hate, when I got to execute my plan, I got gum in my hair, insults, comments at my back, thrown some spit papers… and realized I don't want that. Still, I want to show my underwear in public, but I want it to be with a soul mate.
What am I, An addict to rejection? Just to remember that I leaved Camilla flat proves it. I just don't help myself. I have no personality at all; all I am a copy of people I like (plus a lot of lies) you got me. I don't have a life either, because of my lack of friends I don't go out, don't know anyone, and don't do anything.


Tuesday, August 1, 2006

My ego

I had previously been publishing all this online (my ego!). But now I’m back to the privacy of myself. 
I think it is my duty to inform you that since I was born I have had difficulty relating to other people, mainly because of my eccentricities and behavior, for this reason I have not managed to have the opportunity to meet a single true friend in my life.
I studied in the Tilatá school, behind the western mountains, but for some reason I could not relate to people there. Tired and desperate a change of school came into my life a bit over three years ago.
The change brought both good and hard truths. I first realized that my behavior and way of life, it’s indeed very strange for my peers. But not everything is bad I was able to relate with some other freaks and even identify them as my real friends (for a while)... But life takes hard hits on me and I could not dodge all my misfortune. They turned against me for some undisclosed reason, from one day to another. To the point of having me become my now sworn enemies or taking disgust of my mere presence. Fortunately though I fell back on my feet and managed one of them continues to be a regular acquaintance.
It turns out also, I have a terrible memory, and before I start writing always put the keywords on the topics I want to discuss so avoid that something escapes me. But in time these words lose their meaning as I delve into my writing...  you might occasionally find random words scribble about. I hope you understand. 
I did not have to turn to any hidden powers against Obsidian. Thing I considered after our last encounter, so my karma is rather safe. Obsidian apologized, and I did not offend him further. Peace seems to work, with time, patience and endurance, but it works.
I quit going to IT and Programming courses, I think its best, it might mean I will not do anything with my life, no traveling abroad not anything... but for now I am content to find what is it, it makes me happy.... Yeah right? That's big lie, I feel like I am a failure and with luck I'll make it is a waiter someday. I fight with Valdes; he is sadistic and cruel, besides hates me because I am not very smart. We visited the girls at the Christ King, and surprisingly it was very ... hot? I flirted with a girl just as we came in... But my introversion not allowed me to go much further as to actually changing email addresses... plus people around me where weighing me down, so I ended up feeling like a loser, an imbecile. This day will bring me nightmares, I just want to meet girls and fuck, and then I want to meet someone special.



(22 days late)