A Kick in the Head...

Sometimes life gets you down, and you need a kick in the butt to get your bearings again. But life, being life, rarely provides you with exactly what you need. Sometimes it gives you more, sometimes less.

This time, it gave me a kick in the face.

I've been recently enlightened, and shown that I've been stupid, selfish, and petty. I hate petty. Hate. HATE. Petty. I already know I'm selfish, and stupid is a condition that seems pretty permanent, sadly. But petty, no. That I can't abide.

To hell with petty. That stops now.
__________

I've been spending a lot of time with my family here this week. I've missed them a lot. It's like I've been living with a tear in my soul for this past year, and after a while didn't notice. But now I feel whole.

If only for a week.

Sometimes I wonder if I've made a mistake. Sometimes I wish I'd never left.

I miss the warmth. Of family and friends. Of familiar places, and the fond memories they evoke. I even miss the weather. Oh god do I miss the weather.

I miss the blue skies, and warm weather of my childhood. I miss being able to walk outside in the middle of December in jeans and a t-shirt, with maybe a light jacket. I miss how rain was a rarity, a cause for a wry smile, despite the fact that no one out here has a clue as to how to deal with wet asphalt when driving. I miss the sun shining down on me, and feeling the warmth of that light pressing gently down on my skin.

I miss the convenience of Japanese specialty shops being nearby, and almost everywhere - everything from grocery stores to gift shops to bookstores to restaurants. I miss Japanese shows on the TV, and Japanese video shops around the corner.

I miss it. I miss it all.

But it's too late. Too late. And now I can't go back. Things have changed. They aren't the same. They'll never be the same. Never.

But LA is still home to me. And always will be, I think. Even if I can never go home, a part of me will belong here always. And no matter what people think, or say, I'll never be ashamed of that.

Winter Random Thoughts

Cold.

So cold.

Evil evil cold.

A cold that seeps through to the very core of you. Into the very marrow of your bones. A cold that nips and bites, leaving skin feeling numb in its wake. A cold that burns so deep, you wonder if you'll ever know the meaning of warmth again.

Or was warmth just an illusion? Some vague daydream, some fever-induced madness, half-imagined by a delusional mind?

Warmth? I can still vaguely recall a time spent in pale sunshine that never lost the battle aganst the wandering winter wind. When a cloudless sky promised a warm, sunny day - a day maybe too cold for the beach, but still better than a day where daring to wander outdoors without a heavy coat could be the death of you.

And I used to like cold days...

>_>
__________

Dear Mister Customer-Who-Won't-Stop-Picking-His-Nose:

Please. Stop. It's very icky.

Thank you.
__________

Bus, Taxi, or Shuttle?

Or a 5-hour wait at the airport?

...

...how long does my DS battery charge last again?

<_<

Future, Present, Past

Looking forward,
look ahead -
nothing waiting,
nothing said.
an empty heart,
an empty bed.
a silent wish
to just be dead.

Lost within the present pain,
stabbing through my chest again.
Nothing but a sense of shame,
knowing there's no one to blame.

Looking backward,
look behind,
all the sins
not hard to find
in lies forgot
the self to blind
let the hands
of time unwind

End it all, the present pain.
Never want to feel again.
Let it go, the final breath,
Find release in death.

Inspiration

I'm happiest when most away
I can bear my soul from its home of clay
On a windy night when the moon is bright
And the eye can wander through worlds of light

When I am not and none beside
Nor earth nor sea nor cloudless sky
But only spirit wandering wide
Through infinite immensity.

-Emily Bronte
__________

Sleep brings no joy to me,
Remembrance never dies;
My soul is given to misery
And lives in sighs.

Sleep brings no rest to me;
The shadows of the dead
My waking eyes may never see
Surround my bed.

Sleep brings no hope to me;
In sounder sleep they come.
And with their doleful imagery
Deepen the gloom.

Sleep brings no strength to me,
No power renewed to brave:
I only sail a wilder sea,
A darker wave.

Sleep brings no friend to me
To soothe and aid to bear;
They all gaze, oh, how scornfully,
And I despair.

Sleep brings no wish to knit
My harassed heart beneath:
My only wish is to forget
In the sleep of death.

-Emily Bronte
__________

There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.

Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.

None may teach it anything,
'Tis the seal, despair,-
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.

When it comes, the landscape listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, 't is like the distance
On the look of death.

-Emily Dickinson
__________

time to pass out...

I'm working on trying to improve my health lately. But it's hard. The hardest part seems to be working up the motivation. Or the energy.

I can't seem to fall asleep, and often end up reading or just listening to music for hours until I just pass out from sheer exhaustion. Sometimes literally. And then there are the nights I don't sleep. That I can't sleep. And I don't dream anymore. Or at least, I can't remember dreaming.

My energy levels are very low, to the point that some days I have to force myself to bother with making dinner. And some days I have to force myself to eat, because I just don't have an appetite.

I worry constantly, for no reason, over the most trivial of things. I get indecisive about the dumbest things. I can't get any writing done, because I'm too tired, not motivated, and feel crappy and guilty about that too. I feel like there are expectations I'm not living up to. That I can't live up to. And I feel like I'm letting people down.

So... yeah. Motivated.

But seriously, trying to focus on my health right now. At least, the outer shell of my health. Hopefully by focussing and improving that, I can address a few other problems as well.

Well... in the meantime, think I'll see about that passing out from exhaustion thing for a bit.

So...

Ya know when you're not feeling well, and your mood plummets, and everything feels dreary and grey... and then ya get a call from that special person and talk a while about nothing in particular, and suddenly everthing seems much better?

And that's despite the wind and rain, and frigid temps, and the fact that said someone is very very far away.

Oh, and that the campus police at your alma mater tazered a student 'cause he wouldn't leave the computer room. And the your home town's branch of your current health provider is getting criminal charges pressed against them for abandoning a patient on skid row.

>_>

...of course, now I live in a place where they have to borrow news stories from LA in order to fill up a 30-min news program...

...and there are giant piles of multi-color leaves piling up on the streets across the city...

...and in a quite neighborhood, two guys can be working in the garage putting "leaves" into boxes, with the garage doors wide open for fresh air...

...and get arrested by the police...

...did I mention the "leaves" were of the canabis variety?

<_<

This Is Just Not My Da y...

Bleh... or maybe not my week? Weekend?

Firstly, it's been raining off and on (mostly on and not off) for about a week or more. Probably more. But tarus have bad memories, so I'm not sure about the duration of the rainy period anymore. Suffice to say it's been too long.

Too too long.

Especially for this SoCal taru. Where's my gentle warm sunshine, demmit! Granted, we don't have seasons back home (there's summer and not summer), and leaves tend to just dry up and die as autumn falls across the land. But at least we had sun.

Then, my umbrella breaks. 'Cause, ya know, it's not enough for there to be practically non-stop water falling down from perpetually grey skies, but there's got to be frigging WIND to go along with it. Wind which whips at your half-frozen frame from every direction at once, sneaking past your layers of clothy protection to make you shiver (but not in a fun way...). Wind which mischievously tries to flip your hat (or cap) away, like some overgrown and invisible bully who derives twisted joy out of tormenting the weak and helpless. Wind which absolutely delights in tearing asunder that flimsy collection of aluminum wires and cloth you use as a shield against the deluge of water falling down upon your already sodden head.

So luckily I had a spare umbrella. And yet, for some odd reason, I felt compelled to go and buy yet ANOTHER umbrella. I don't know why, I just did. So I did.

Good thing, 'cause a week or so later I LOST MY SPARE UMBRELLA ON THE BUS!

-_-;;

Oh wait, not the end yet. Last Friday I went to the dentist to get a retreatment on my root canal from about 5 years ago. Seems the original procedure left some material behind. As in, nerve material. As in, "hey, I don't think I should be feeling what almost feels like an electrical shock when I bite with that tooth."

Root canal. Ew. Never fun. But as I have a very small mouth (shaddup Torias I dun need to hear it), it makes it very difficult for oral surgeons to work. So they had a bite guard. And a dental dam.

Both instruments are straight from the devil's own torture chamber. The bite guard about made me gag several times.

2 and a half frigging hours in the chair. As nice as the dentist and assistant were (and they were great), that is a LONG ASS TIME to spend in the chair with impliments of dental horror in your mouth.

The next day I woke up in the morning with a headache that made me want to die. Literally. It felt like my hair was throbbing, it hurt so bad. I barely managed to stumble out of bed, heat up some soup, eat half a bowl, down some Advil and then pass out again.

And didn't wake up until nearly 2 in the afternoon.

Dragged myself up, to have more soup, blearly too my asthma meds, put on some warm clothes, and trudged out into the rain to go to the bank. 'Cause, well... rumor has it that there's a possibilty that the paycheck might not go through if I don't get it in the bank right away...

>_>

Missed the bus on the way to the bank, 'cause traffic was too heavy to cross the street and the driver didn't wait.

<_<

Did I mention it was raining during all this? And that I forgot the umbrella?

-_-;

Walked, 'cause I was still bleary, and kinda in pain, and not thinking clearly, and a bit cranky. Got to the bank. Caught the bus back. Had more soup.

Bloody tired of frigging soup. Maybe I should adopt that as a battle cry.

Oh, and the receptionist quit at work, so guess who gets to sit up front, answer phones, be scrutinized by the president, and just generally be stuck doing stuff no one wants to do but needs to be done anyway?

...gee... this feels kinda familiar...

>_<

I can't even check personal e-mail.

;_;

And I thought I had a doctor's appointment today. But it wasn't today. It's next week.

-_-;;

...and now it's freezing cold, and one of the circuits in the apartment has shorted out. So half of the apartment is without power. Luckily the refrigerator is okay. But the stove is electric. And it's out. And I think the water-heater is on the same circuit. And... quite possibly the heater.

-_-;;;

And to top it all off, I can't find my maglite. So... if the rest of the power goes out, I'll be totally in the dark. Except for the little light from my cell phone.

Go me.

'Scuse me while I go back to freezing to death...

WTF?

Been doing a lot of coughing lately. It's better than before (yay for inhalers and allergy medication), but I still have occasional coughing attacks. Especially if I get too cold, or if the air is too damp.

And, joy of joys, it's been raining almost non-stop for the past few days. Wee... -_-;;

So on the bus last night, I had a very bad coughing attack. Couldn't stop coughing no matter what I did, and I did try.

And some woman turns around and glares at me. Like I'm coughing just to annoy her or something.

Um... hello? Do you think I WANT to be coughing this loud, and this hard? Do you think I ENJOY suffering the painful torment of coughing so hard, the muscles of my arm clench up and spasm? That my stomach twists into knots? That my eyes tear up? That it feels like my lungs are trying to turn themselves inside-out and crawl up my esophagus and take a peek at the world?

Yeah... no, I don't think so, lady. Whatever.

...

...oh, and then some idiot wakes me up ringing the doorbell and pounding on the door at 2am in the morning. Which was both scary and hella aggravating.

HELLO?! Get the F*** outta here and go the F*** home! Don't wake strangers up at 2am in the morning! WTF is wrong with you?

...so tired... -_-...

Another Handful of Random Thoughts

Umbrellas. Useful little (or in some cases not-so-little) devices, generally designed to keep rain offa yous head. However, their handy light-weight folding (for convenience purposes) and water-shedding (for practicality purposes) design have one fatal flaw: a vulnerability to a strong gust of wind.

-poof-

Instant mass of mangled aluminum and torn cloth onna stick. Woo. Always fun to deal with when the rain is pouring down on you and the wind is blowing every-which way.

So, how to deal with this problem? Well, someone came up with a revolutionary idea: let's make inversion-resistant umbrellas! With cunningly designed vents that will allow the wind to blow through the umbrellla, thereby increasing its ability to resist the subversive forces of the inversion-inducing winds!

...wait... vents?

...umm... doesn't that essentially mean you're putting holes in
the umbrella?

...anyone else think gnomes might have been behind this idea?

No wait, I take that back - if it were a gnomish innovation, it probably would have involved a lot more gadgetry. And might accidentally turn you short with a nice creamy avocado complexion.

__________

Ya know when you're tired all day, and finally get home, and lay down to get a bit of sleep, and end up laying there for an hour unable to fall asleep for some odd reason? And then, when you finally do fall asleep, seems like the next minute the alarm is going off, and you gotta haul your sleepy buttaru outta bed to start the process all over again? An unrelenting, merciless cycle of exhaustion, insomnia, and weariness that goes on and on, seemingly without end?

...yeah...

I miss dreaming.
__________

The Wii is already sold out. It's not even out yet, and it's sold out. Which considering everything is probably a good thing, as it prevents me from plopping down $200+ bucks on the system in a geeky rush of excitement and glee. Oh, and more on the game, of course. Shadow Princess. Mm... Linky goodness.

...I'm such a dork sometimes...

__________

Dear Staff:

Please do not poopy on the floor in the bathroom. Espeically please don't poopy on the floor in the bathroom, step in it, then walk out, leaving a trail of poopy footprints behind you. Poopies belong in the toilet, not on the office floor.

Thank you very much.
__________

A couple weekends ago I bought some stamps to mail stuff. Including some of the 2-cent stamps, as I have a lot of those pesky old stamps that the federal government decided to make no longer sufficient funds for the purpose of mailing things.

I just discovered today that I accidentally through them out with last week's trash.

Excuse me while I club myself over the head.

Echoes

On one of the forums I frequent, someone asked the question: what song best "fits" you, or describes your life, either just at this moment or in general?

I thought about that for a while. When I realized what song has always resonated in my mind, well... it wasn't a happy thought.

Hurt - Trent Reznor

I hurt myself today,
To see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain,
The only thing that's real.

The needle tears a hole,
The old familiar sting.
Tried to kill it all away,
But I remember everything.

What have I become?
My sweetest friend.
Everyone I know,
Goes away in the end.

And you can have it all,
My empire of dirt.
I will let you down.
I will make you hurt.

There's always that small part of me, the little self-destructive demon within, that delights in the seclusion. The misery. The pain. The subversive voice whispering that I'm nothing but a burden on everyone, and that they're all better off without me weighing them down.

I hurt, inside. I don't want to lash out at others because of it. I try to hold myself in check, apart, all alone and far away. I build my walls high. I bolster those walls as best I can.

They feel like they're getting thin.

Lies

In general, I don't lie very well about most things. Usually. I can try to weave tales of half-truths and evansion sometimes, but often even that doesn't work out. Mostly I have to straight-out stonewall, or tell the truth.

Usually. But not in all a cases.

For example, white lies seem to not be a problem for the most part. Those polite little lies you tell someone when to put them at ease, or bolster someone's mood, or sooth ruffled feathers or bruised pride.

Yeah, those I can do.

Most big lies I have a problem with.

I guess now that I think about it, it has to do with the intent of the lie. If the lie is for selfish reasons, like getting a promotion, or getting noticed, or getting out of trouble, then meh, you suck. But little lies meant to help others, or make them feel better - not towards your own advantage, but just for that person's sake... those I dunno. The line there seems murky to me.

Sincerity, integrity, loyalty, compassion. Cornerstones of my identity.

...and yet when someone asks me how I'm doing, I can lie and lie and lie...

On the Verge of Dreams (fictional scene)

A strange scene that popped into my head one bleary morning - thought maybe writing it down would help get it out of my brain.
_____

I was awake. Barely so, but awake. A part of me was surprised. The rest of me couldn't decide if it wanted to be annoyed or wryly amused, and so just settled for being weary. So very weary.

The lights had been dimmed in the room again. Even against my closed eyelids I could tell. Not completely dark, but not brightly lit either. Comfortingly dim. I'd been having trouble falling asleep in complete darkness, of late. It was funny, really, all things considered.

The darkness would come soon enough.

Tired still. Always tired. But the comfort of sleep slid away, and slowly my mind bestirred itself, prodding me.

Someone was in the room.

Weakly, I turned my head. Opened my eyes. Blinked. Tried to focus. But they'd taken my glasses again as I slept, so everything remained blurry and indistinct in my eyes. I grinned slightly. Even without them I knew who was there.

"Hi," I managed to whisper quietly.

"You're awake?" She leaned forward, took my hand. Her had was warm.

"Yeah. For a little bit." My mouth was dry. "Mom... can I have some water?"

She released my hand to pour some water, brought the flimsy plastic cup, and helped me to drink. I fought to keep the grimace off my face. The water was tepid, and tasted of staleness and plastic. Still, I managed to drink most of it.

"Thanks."

"Did you want more?"

"No, it's okay."

We sat for a while in silence.

"Are you cold?"

"No, mom. I'm okay." I thought a moment. "Maybe some TV." I reached for the remote, knowing it was somewhere...

"Here," she said, reaching over and handing it to me.

I took it and pressed the TV button. The little television up near the ceiling made a soft click-buzz, and the plastic control in my hand blared with sound as the screen slowly came to life. Hastily, I turned the sound down just a bit.

"What day is it?" I asked.

"Friday."

"Ah. Isn't that show on tonight?" I started flipping through the channels.

"Yes, but it won't be on for another hour or so."

"Okay. Maybe we can watch it together?"

Silence for a bit.

"That would be nice," she replied finally.

I reached for my glasses. Usually they were on the table.

"Here..." she handed them to me, letting me slowly unfold them and put them on myself. It took a bit.

She looked tired. Her eyes were puffy. "Mom, you need more rest," I admonished gently. "You should go home, sleep a little."

She just looked at me, then looked away. I closed my eyes. I couldn't bear to see her cry, just then.

We were both saved when dinner arrived. Such as it was. Chicken broth. Tasteless stuff. And cold, or at best rather tepid. Jello. She helped me sit up and eat some. I didn't really want any of it, but it took our minds off things. I ate as much as I could.

Afterwards, my eyes felt heavy again.

"Sorry," I yawned. "Getting tired again..."

"That's okay," she assured me. "Don't worry. Sleep if you need to."

"Thanks."

The greyness of sleep reached out to me again. I felt myself slipping into it, slowly. As it engulfed me gently, I heard words, soft words coming from the speaker still in my hand. I could almost understand, but the words jumbled all together, making no sense, forming no pattern. Like leaves falling, swirling in the wind. And for a moment, just briefly, the words came together in my mind

Vibrant colors fall,
Dancing in the autumn wind;
The dimming light fades.

Consciousness faded. But into greyness, not blackness.

Not yet.
__________
©Talathar, 10/2006

Picking at Old Wounds

I don't know why I do it. But every now and again, I'll go and "check" on folks I once used to know, but resolved to walk away from for a variety of reasons. Mostly rather hurtful reasons. A few of the rather stupid mistakes I've made in the last 10 years or so.

...my god has it been so long...

I don't know why I do it, still. I know better. Really REALLY know better. I also know I won't ever go back. I'm too proud to let some things just pass, and too honest to claim it was a misunderstanding when I really don't think it was.

It's gone, it's over, I really should just let it go. And for the most part I do. Not turning around on what I've sworn to turn my back to.

...but sometimes I kinda sneak a glance through a mirror. Just to see.

Sometimes I need blinders, not mirrors.

Huh...?

World of Warcraft people keep complimenting me, and expressing admiration and stuffs.

...??

When did I get popular with people?

It always strikes me as odd to find out that people like me. Can't quite figure it out. I'm not cool, or hip, or even all that interesting. My life is rather boring, my interests are rather bland, my personality is bound up with a lot of angsty self-castigating issues and a lot of dark sarcasm, and at best I'm not the most annoying person in the world.

At best.

Yet cool people seem to like me. It boggles the mind.

A part of me is astonished, and rather flattered. The darker part of me sits wondering when the bottom is going to drop out from under me.

Issues. I have abandonment issues. I know that now. So what do I do? I run away. Before I can get abandoned. Or do something stupid, something preemptive, forcing people to turn away from me. Leaving me alone. Again.

And that dark corner of my soul wants me to be alone.

Where's my flashlight.
__________

It's election season. There's a sign on the corner near my work. It reads, "Vote to Support Mt. Hood Community College!"

...but it doesn't mention what initiative you should vote for, so that you can support said aforementioned college.

...umm... okay...

>_>
__________

Sometimes... sometimes pain lets you know you're still alive.

Other times, it lets you know you did something stupid.

And then there are the times that it's just there, annoying the hell out of you for no apparent reason whatsoever.

Thank goodness for meds. Where's my Advil.
__________

No, I don't make sense. Yes, I like it that way. Don't like it, go away. Don't make me shine my tiny mag-lite at you.

>_>

*cough*

Tired of coughing. Is all I do lately. Contemplating going in and just manually removing the lungs so it stops trying to crawl up my esophogus.

Granted, it hasn't gotten so bad that my entire body clenches up with each cough, nor has my throat worked itself into a consistency slightly resembling ground meat. And my stomach is not experiencing sore muscle cramps from the excessive exercise of trying to aid in the escape of my lungs from their proper place in encased in my ribcage.

Yet.

But I sure am damn tired of it.

Yeah, I know. Go to the doctor. Too worried about being able to afford that right now. Not sure how much everything is going to cost. Dentist. Doctor. Eye doctor eventually. Meds. Possible tooth extraction and reconstructive surgery.

And it's slow at work. Too slow. Scarily slow. As in might-let-more-people-go slow. As in omg-what-am-I-gonna-do-now slow. As in possibly-time-to-go-home-as-a-failure slow. Next to that, self-inflicted lung removal seems like a pleasant afternoon do-it-yourself project.

*sigh*

Can't die yet, though. Gotta pay back the mom. Maybe later I'll have time.

. . .

Haven't posted in a while.

Dunno what's wrong.

Not feeling myself lately.

Not feeling up to anything.

Not feeling much at all.

Tired.

Alone.

Empty.

Feels so empty here.

I'm not. I know.

But caught myself indulging in the solitude again.

The melancholy angst.

A drop of blood in a crystal glass of pure water.

Swallowed in a flash by the clear void of liquid light.

But which am I: the blood, or water?

Beyond Lost

Totally, utterly, completely lost - heart, mind, and soul.

Lost without reservation, without care, without the heartache of the past weighing me down, dragging me into the deep dark morass of regret and fear.

Throwing hesitation to the wind with careful deliberation, with studied intent, knowing and remembering and ridding myself of the burden of self-inflicted loathing and despair.

The past will not hold me, will not bind me - my heart shall not be captive to fear and longing and doubt.

Free. To soar the skies. To gaze down upon the clouds. To dance among the stars. Cast off the chains. Free.

To settle upon another perch. To sit upon another sill. To find a home of such warmth and comfort, of such fulfillment and love, that never again shall it want for more.

Lost. Beyond lost. Home.

Snippets of Thought

There is a kitten in the house. His name is Riley. His title, bequeathed unto him by yours truly, is "Kitten of Doom." Also, "Mister Poopie Paws." Both titles fit him aptly. While he is yet but a kitten, he is nearly the size of the room mates' other cat, who is full grown.

She doesn't seem to like this too much.

Nor does she like the activities by which Riley has earned his title. The second one, that is.

Then again, I'm not too pleased by the activities by which he earned his second title, either.

But then, I've never found it enduring for any animal to play with poopies. >_>

...god this cat needs a better hobby...
__________

Application for an apartment was submitted yesterday. Dunno if I'll get it or not. I hope I do. I'm apprehensive about it all, still. But hopeful. And scared. And worried.

It's nice. It has a lot of space. More space than I probably need right now. It's much closer to where I work. It's relatively affordable.

...but I don't know if I can really afford living on my own... not on what I'm currently making...

-_-;
__________

Soo... I sort of lost my mind, and wigged out a bit today. Luckily for me, rather than trying to keep stuff in, I talked to "da man" about it all, and he helped to calm me down. It's great to have someone to stop me when I'm busy running around flailing my arms about in a sheer panic.

I just hope he doesn't get tired of me leaning on him... I think maybe I lean too much.

I also think maybe I worry too much.
__________

...excuse me, I now have to chase Mister Poopie Paws out of my room... where's that squirt bottle...

Sooo...

Just starting to get over a terrible heat wave over here. Last weekend it hit like 105ish. It was terribly miserable. Even Deb's little kitten was suffering.

So in an effort to escape the heat last weekend, we finally went to go see Pirates2. (Yes yes, I know it's been out for a while, and that I've been lax in keeping up with my movie-watching. I am cheap right now, trying to save my money for other, more important stuff.) Movie was great.

What wasn't great was some of the company.

Since I had to work on Saturday, Deb came to pick me up at the office, and we went from there directly to the movie theater. Because we got there so early, we were actually the first ones to line up for the next showing - we had to wait 30 min, but heck what did we care, we got to wait INSIDE, where it was air-conditioned. So we got snacks and drinks, then sat at the front of the line on a bench. All goodness so far. As time passes, more folks arrive, and queue up behind us, as directed by the attendant checking tickets.

Then comes the rude family.

The rude family consisted of a mother, a father, and a young boy. Loaded up with typical movie snacks, they look right at us, see the line, and rather than queue up, they elect to go over to the side and sit on a bench to wait. Wait just like the rest of us. But not as part of the line.

(the anarchists)

Then, the movie ends, and people start coming out of the theater. At this point, the rude family (yes, the entire family), get UP from their bench and go over to the theater, in FULL VIEW of all the people politely standing in line, and try to push their way INTO the theater as people from the previous showing are still streaming out.

o_0

Deb politely informed them that (in case they were blind and had NOT noticed) there WAS actually a line of people waiting to get in. Rude mother replies, "There's like 50-60 seats in there, it's not going to matter anyway, so who cares?"

(...wtf...?)

Shortly thereafter, rude mother is distracted by someone she knows leaving the theater, and they strike up a conversation. As they chatter, rude father and rude son PUSH their way past the exiting people, presumably to get "prime seating" for the next showing. Which, again, there is a LINE for. And, after the conversation ends, rude mother goes to accompany her rude family.

-_-;;

Then, as the last few stragglers exit the theater, the cleaning crew goes in to clean up. And in doing so, they kick out said rude family OUT, and point out the line, which is now rather long and goes around the corner.

Seeing the eyes of everyone who had been patiently and politely waiting in line, rude mother for a moment makes as if to go to the back of the line. However, rude father adamantly refuses. They go to sit on the bench outside of the line again.

When the cleaning crew comes out tells the line to go on in, a few of them stay standing near the door. This prevents rude father from muscling his way in, so those of us who were actually in line start trouping in. I follow Deb, who sits in the middle of the middlish row.

...which, turns out, is apparently where rude father and son wanted to sit, as they were right next to us.

Fate is a funny thing sometimes... :P

Lost

Feeling out of my depth of late. Possessed of a particular brand of emotion that teeters on the edge of madness, between the realms of sheer panic and pure exhilaration. Carrying a little portion of both, blending. Gentle yet unquiet waves crash against my soul.

Am I sane? Am I lost? Fallen?

If so, I don't know that I ever want to be found.

Let the tide carry me away.

Random Poetry

Fears

How can it be that you can miss
what you have never known?
How can it be that you can grieve
what light has never shown?
The fear I hide, deep inside
uncertainty has grown.
And in the end, yet once again
I know I’m all alone.

Time and time again I feel
as if my heart will never heal.
Time and time again I try
but broken wings can never fly.
Time and time again I fall
and wonder why I try at all.

The fear inside won’t let me be
The pain I hide won’t let me see
I’m trapped by my uncertainty,
Reflecting what’s inside of me.

How can it be that you can lose
what never was your own?
How can it be you mourn a death
of what was never sown?
Every day, I run away
to hide my heart in stone.
But in the end, though I pretend,
I know I’m still alone.

Time and time again I feel,
as if my wounds can never heal.
Time and time again I cry,
yet fear the longing for the sky.
Time and time again I crawl,
pretending not to hear the call.

The fear inside won’t let me be
The chains that bind won’t set me free
I’m trapped by insecurity,
Reflecting what’s inside of me.

Light in Darkness, Dark in Light
Neither wrong, yet neither right
I stand alone against the Night,
To dare my broken wings in flight.

© Talathar 6/30/06

Just a Few Random Observations...

"Shrugging is the beginings of Wisdom" says the fortune from the fortune cookie.

...umm... yeah, I dun believe it. 'Cause I shrug ALL THE TIME, dernit. And it dun make me no more smarter or wiser than before.

Thus, the cookie lies. For this crime, it will be punished by being consumed by angry (and hungry) tarus.

*munch munch*
__________

...okays, there's just something strange about walking down the street on a bright Tuesday morning on the way to work, and nearly tripping over a discarded pair of men's briefs laying strewn in the middle of the street.

I mean, granted, it's been really REALLY hot over the past few days. And until tonight, there hasn't even been much relief at night.

But... really...running nekkid through the streets? Isn't that going just a BIT too far? Just a little?

o_0;;
__________

THANK GOD FOR THE COOL BREEZE TONIGHT!
__________

My computer seems to hate me. It doesn't want me to play games. At least, not MMORPG's. Which sucks. Hopefully it won't be too expensive to fix... I hope it doesn't, anyway. I kinda NEED the computer to work for gaming... as I kinda use that as a way to hang out with certain people... who live far away... and in a different time zone... >_>

But... heh... at least there's AIM, I guess. ^^;
__________

Okay, so I listen to alternative music. AND I listen to some J-Rock and J-Pop. But sometimes, mixing the two is NOTARU A GOOD IDEA!

I just listened to an alternative J-Rock band's interpretation of Nirvana's "Smells like Teen Spirit" in that new-kinda "We can sing in english GOODS" kind of thing that seems to have taken the Japanese by storm lately.

...

...

...

...my brother's response was, "Eh, no one can understand the words to that song anyway, so it's okay..."

... XD

GAH!

Hot! It's so hot! Too hot!

Bleh! Ick!

Blarg!

Heat in the 90's. No wind, no soothing ocean breezes to take away the insidious heat. Just hot, hot, and more hot. Icky, sticky, dogged heat, making everything miserable.

Worse, I can't even take solace by playing on the computer - the heat seems to be effecting the graphics card performance.

...But at least I can get online and chat with folks. And post. And maybe do a bit of writing. And stuff. Just no gameage.

I just hope these problems are just heat-related, and not something in my computer going bad. I don't know what I'd do without my computer... ;_;

Viral Poetry vs. Misc. Music...?

C. Marlow has currently taken up residence in a small portion of my brain. An unwanted tenant at the best of times, he is, at the moment, something more than an unsufferable annoyance of the highest caliber. And yet, finding the correct means of evicting this stubborn vagrant is most vexing. Try though I might, the words continue to echo silently in my thoughts, finding ways to creep past my defenses and seeping back into my brain, tainting all it touches with pretension and self-important vanity.

...dammit, as if viral SONGS weren't bad enough... now I got annoying poetry stuck in my head! ARGH!

Ah well, in an attempt to purge this scourge from my brain, I am resorting to the power of music. Specifically, rather loud music of the alternative stripe.

...sadly, it's not completely helping.

R.E.M. is singing about the end of the world. There are Men Without Hats dancing about and crashing a Ren Faire. Sting is stalking someone, and The Police aren't doing anything about it.

Meanwhile at the Oasis, someone is watching a Champagne Supernova in the sky. And speaking of Champagne, I think that Iron Butterfly there had a little TOO much... I can't quite understand what he's saying...

Beck is calling himself a Loser again, and Garbage sings about being happy only when it rains. 311 has a story You Wouldn't Believe. Speaking of stories and Fairytales, Jack Johnson is crooning about Inaudible Melodies.

Creed is asking for someone to take them up to a place with golden streets. But Audioslave replies, forget it, we IS the Highway, not some carpet ride.

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs are postitive the Gold Lion is gonna tell them... something. But the Kings of Leon just kept talking about someone being a World Class Suicide.

Rob Zombie is screaming about the American Witch, and the Queens of the Stone Age are shouting back something about a Hanging Tree.

Off to the side, Los Lonely Boys ask how far is it to Heaven.

The Raconteurs are advising to keep things Steady as She Goes, while Nickleback is asking if it's worth Savin Me. And Metallica is running over some kid's bed while the Sandman enters the room, while Hawthorne Heights is Saying Sorry.

But I'm still feeling rather blue, kinda Staind and So Far Away...

...and someone is singing about the Hero of Canton... o_0;;

...okays, think it's time for this taru to go to sleepies...

...as soon as I pelt that damnable shepard-spawning Marlow with rubber bands of much hurtiness... -_-;;

Reflections

Looking for inspiration, was going over some old poetry of mine. Came across this one from a few years ago:
__________

Taking Flight (2003)

If I weren't such a coward I'd just fly away -
Away from the charnel-house reek of decay.
Fling myself forth without haste or delay,
With other like souls to frolic and play.

But because I'm a coward, in this hell I stay,
where disgrace and self-pity assault me each day,
My missteps and failures they proudly display,
And poison my soul with despair and dismay.

Break away, break away, with the dawn fly away -
Let the pain and self-hatred o'er my heart hold no sway,
Unbound by the pettiness that dark hearts obey,
Let my soul fly in freedom, bright wings to essay.
__________

That was how I was feeling at the time. For a long while. Trapped. By a job I loved to do, but for people who had no appreciation or respect for anyone. And the worst thing is, I knew it, and yet for so long did nothing about it. Out of a misguided sense of stubbornness and obligation, I kept myself there for so long. Much longer than I should have.

Now I have flown free. And I'm slowly breaking free of that mindset. It's like there was a poison flowing through my veins, clouding my thoughts and slowly tainting my soul - and now it's gone. There are still after-effects, of course, and my recovery has slow, but steady.

...and while it seems obvious now, I was still rather surprised at how scary it's been, trying out these wings. And I haven't even really gotten started yet. It's taking a while, but I'm getting there... I think.

Sometimes I wonder, though - why is it that I always try to do things the hard way? (>_<)

Soo...

I was coming home from work the other day on the bus (...damn I need a car...), half-drowsing, when suddenly I heard familiar chatter. Japanese chatter.

Didn't try to listen in or anything, but still it was kinda cool. I haven't heard a lot of Japanese chatter out in public since I moved out here. It was kinda comforting, yet at the same time made me kinda melancholy. Because it reminded me once again how far I am from "home."

But... where is "home" anymore? I still don't quite feel like it's "home" here, and yet... "home" isn't back with the folks anymore either.

Hearing the Call...

So I went and turned on my PlayOnline thing today, to check my mail and stuff. And also 'cause I am thinking about starting up the game again. After all this time, I still dearly miss the tarutaru.

It's been such a long time since I logged in. Still, there's just something about that log in music, and that locking sound... it just brings a smile to my face, and I feel a sense of anticipation in my heart.

I'm not saying that the game was without flaws. It's impossible to solo after a certain stage, gear is very important AND hellishly expensive. Crafting is expensive and FRUSTRATING, seeing as how your random skill-ups are from .1 to .3 at a time. Finding parties is often a drag. It made my brain hurt to try to play AND roleplay AND translate English -> Japanese and Japanese -> English for some parties. And the psychological scarring caused by forcing a tarutaru THF to backstab loincloth-clad giants... *shudders*

But despite all the flaws, FFXI will always be a special game to me. It brought me back to MMORPG's, after I had sworn them off. It renewed some of my faith in myself, and in online people. It gave me the opportunity to RP in a game again. It gave me the chance to meet Talathar, the littaru cheery tarutaru that now takes up a littaru corner in my soul - the happy silly side of myself that rarely gets expressed in public. And it allowed me to meet a great bunch of friends, who then proceeded to drag me off to WoW, where I met a whole NEW bunch of friends.

Which, in a round-about way, is leading me back to FFXI. 'Cause a friend from WoW is talking about starting up FF again. And I miss adventuring with him. So anyway I went and checked the "Reactivate Content ID" screen today. According to that, Talathar and her sisters are all still there, sitting in their mog houses. Gave me a fuzzy warm feeling, to see them all there still.

It's going to be painful to start all over at level 1 again, with no resources... heck, my brother gave me money and gear when I started out on Seraph, so I'm kinda spoiled. And I know it's not going to be the same, what with the folks I used to play with all still firmly ensconced in WoWage.

Still... I think I'm going to see if I can budget a second MMORPG into my life.

Beware, people of Vana'diel. The tarutaru may be making a return...

Just another random thought or two...

...wtf is up with this evil heat? It's been in the high 80's - 90's this week. And there's a really dry wind.

It's like the old Santa Ana winds back home.

I hated those winds. And I hated that kinda weather. At least back home, it usually didn't start until summer.

It's May, dammit. Only May! Geez, if I wanted sweltering heat I could have stayed back home. Or gone to some tropical place.

...oh wait, tropical places have bugs, and I've got that slight littaru phobia...

*sigh*

Worse, because my room is so hot with little circulation, I have to try keeping the door open. Which is a problem, because the cats want to come in. But the cats, being hot, are shedding - which already is making my allergies do interesting things to my nasal passages as it is. So I have this cardboard box barrier blocking my door... but I still have to keep an eye on the door, 'cause sometimes the cats try anyway...

*sigh again*

Ah well... who needs to breathe anyway, right?

...oh wait...
__________

I don't know how I'm feeling right now. Am I happy?

I'm not miserable. I mean, I miss my family still, and all my friends back home. But I'm not falling to pieces or anything. I suppose I'm content enough. I guess. Been having bouts of melancholy, but that is normal enough for me.

But I do find myself missing the company. I especially find myself missing my brother. Even though sometimes he drove me crazy, it was always nice to know that if I needed to talk, he was just over in the next room. And I miss hanging out with my friends - going to coffee, or out to dinner, or just visiting with them from time to time.

And the babies! I miss seeing the little babies. All my friends back home have those cute little girl babies. And they're all so cute!

... okay... girly moment over... sorry about that...

As for me... well... I've pretty much given up on all that. After my last blundering bout of stupidity involving my wayward (and utterly devoid of any hint of intelligence) heart, I don't feel I can ever trust it again. It's to the point now that I find myself almost literally running away to avoid allowing my emotions to become too invested in anyone.

Yeah yeah, stupid of me. Blah blah blah, better to risk, yadda yadda, perfect match out there somewhere, and all that stuff. Bah. I've heard it all before. I've said it all before to others - and for them I meant it sincerely. But for me? Nah, dun think so. Not me. Some people don't deserve that kind of happiness.

...okay... so there's just a bit of self-directed bitterness there... (but then, when someone uses you to basically trick you into giving away 10 years of creative work... well... yeah, YOU try not to be just a littaru bitter...)

For the most part, I don't blame anyone else for what happened. Mostly, I blame myself - for placing my trust in the wrong person. Sometimes I blind myself to the faults of others. It's a struggle to see people not as I want to see them, but for what they are.

It's a struggle to try to find forgiveness in my heart for the wrongs of the past. I don't know if I can do it. I know I should let it go, but it's very hard for me to do. I tend to be rather easy going and all, until someone crosses the line. After that, I have the VERY bad tendency to hold grudges - and hold them I do, as tightly as a miser holds his last gold coin in a crowd of beggars.

But forgiving others is still easier than finding that same forgiveness for myself. And I don't know why. I've never known why.

Is Ignorance an Excuse?

Too many times, words said in seeming ignorance hurt innocent bystanders. Like a gun shot into the air - that bullet has to come down sometime, somewhere. Hopefully it doesn't hit anyone one the way back.

Sadly, too often when someone tries to explain WHY such comments or words are hurtful, they are met with disdain and ridicule.

"I didn't mean it that way," is a common response. Because sometimes just admitting that you didn't know that something might be offensive is too hard to do. Other times, it's just the lingo, part of the way the cool crowd talks, and so no one wants to go up against the crowd.

Whatever the case, not all things are offensive all the time. It really does depend on the situation. Was the comment said jokingly, or with malicious intent? Was it an appropriate thing to say at the time?

For example, if you call your friend a "jap" at a dinner for Japanese American internment camp folks, well if some obaachan comes over and smack you upside the head with her walker, I think maybe you deserve it, yea?

Another common argument is "its just words, it only hurts you if you let it." Partly true, yet also partly false. I believe words inherently have power - the power of language, of communication. We take that power for granted, but really it's an incredible thing. Communication is the ability to convey thoughts, feelings, and even abstract ideas from one person to another through sounds, symbols, gestures, or expressions. And this power can be used for creative or destructive purposes.

Again, it comes down to the intent of the speaker. But how are we to know what that intent was? Too often among strangers, the intent of the words chosen cannot be easily determined. That's why words can often unintentionally hurt. It's common enough in spoken language, and even more common on the 'net.

Others knowingly use words to hurt, then pretend that they did not mean them in such a way. We've all known our share of such folks, I'm sure. In my experience, they tend to burn through "friends" pretty fast.

But intentional or not, if you've hurt someone, you should be able to take responsibility for that action. At least, that's how I feel.

Just a few random thoughts for the day...

Sometimes, morality is like a burden. Some choose to carry its weight willingly. Some never even realize they've been lugging it around all their lives. Some refuse to acknowledge it's existance. And some try to chuck it as far away as possible, never noticing that where ever they go, they're dragging its weight behind them on chains.

Does it hold us back? Does it make us stronger? Does it fetter our potential? Does it empower the soul?

Maybe yes. Maybe no. Depends on who you ask.

As for me, well... I kinda like this particular burden I'm carrying. I think I'll keep it around for a while. Like maybe the rest of my life. At least.
_____

Sometimes life is like when you bite yourself on the inside of your lip by accident.

The first time it hurts, but not too bad. The second time, it hurts more, and the swelling caused by the first bite really flares up. By the third time, your mouth gets all swollen up and it's painful. You don't exactly want to bite yourself again, but the swelling increases the likelihood that you're gonna chomp down on yourself again, the next time you're trying to eat something.

And eventually, you gotta go rinse your mouth out with salt water several times a day to fix the problem. Which hurts. But hey, sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do, eh?

How is that like life? Hey, I just post random thoughts, I don't try to make sense outta them.
_____

...favorite line right now, excerpt from Reaper Man* by Terry Pratchett:


SEE? I HAVE TIME. AT LAST, I HAVE TIME!

Albert backed away nervously.

"And now that you have it, what are you going to do with it?" he said.

Death mounted his horse.

I AM GOING TO SPEND IT.

Yes indeed. Go spend some time, people. Just remember: try to spend it, not waste it.
__________

* Pratchett, Terry. Reaper Man. HarperTorch, an Imprint of HarperCollins Publishing, NY, 1991

pot and kettle...

I find it ironic and somewhat painful that I give to others the advice I have so much difficulty taking myself. I always feel like a hypocrite. It doesn't make the advice any less true. Yet it also doesn't make it any less difficult to believe it myself.

I hate conflict. I hate confrontation. I'm not good at it. Can't cope with it well. I don't know what it is exactly that makes me avoid it at every opportunity. Which makes me wonder if that wasn't a factor in me moving away from home in the first place. The passive avoidance of conflict. Of confrontation. Because it's easier to deal with things when there's a bit of distance.

It hurts to see my low self esteem reflected in others close to me. I can see in my brother the same kind of self-inflicted emotional torment that I always manage to put myself through. The same feelings of worthlessness. Of contempt. Of anguish. The same fears of not being good enough. Of being a failure. Of losing at life.

Angsty? Yeah. Some of us don't outgrow it, I guess.

I'm trying to be what my brother always was for me. My cheerleader. My supporter. The one who always made me laugh when I was down. The one who always dragged me out of the shadows and into the light.

Yet at the same time, there's a little voice mocking me, deep inside. Pot and kettle, it whispers quietly, snickering with gleeful malice as it disparages my efforts. Who am I to offer any advice on self esteem? I, who have about as much sense of self worth as a dried up piece of cat turd left outside the litterbox?

I don't know. I've never known. But I'll be damned if I let my little brother throw his life away. He deserves better than a life spent believing himself an utter failure, because he's not one.

And maybe, just maybe, neither am I.

Chains

Somewhere inside, deep inside, there is a heart that bleeds. A smallish heart, though others misperceive it as otherwise. A crippled heart, scarred and battered by self-inflicted wounds. A selfish heart, clothed in good intentions and false expectations both. It is not what it seems, no matter how it tries to be. It resides somewhere lost, hidden and locked away, buried deep within the barren earth. Kept safe from inadvertent harm.

But not from harm by intent.

Emotional scars are easier to hide, and the wounds of the heart never heal. Not even the ones you cause yourself.

Sometimes I miss the coldness. The armor of detachment. The empowerment of despair. Sometimes I wish I could bury myself in it, be possessed by it fully. Embrace the cold uncaring wind, to cast myself off the ledge at long last, and be free.

Can you fear the very freedom you seek? Can you face the darkness of the unknown, unflinchingly? Flicking the switch of conscience and consciousness in one fell swoop?

Blasted, wretched warmth. Cursing my existence. Casting light on the shadows I long to hide in. At times, I think I would do well to be rid of it.

At times, I would give much to be free of the chains that bind. If only to stop the pain.

fear

Fear.

Right here, and right now, I feel a lot of fear. Fear that I can't cut it. Fear that I won't make it. Fear that I'm not good enough, not smart enough, not talented enough. Fear that I'm doomed to fail. Not just out here, but everywhere. With everything. At everything.

Forever.

Fear also that something is going to happen back home, and that because I've put myself so far away, I'm going to also fail at the one thing I've always been pretty good at - being of help to the family.

It's the one thing I've always managed to do okay. The one thing that, after so many years, I kinda felt like I had a handle on. And now I can't. And lacking that stability, that strong rock I've always used to prop up my meager self esteem... I feel lost.

Especially now.

My grandparents are getting on in age. On one side of the family, my grandmother is waiting for a spot to open up at a Japanese cconvalescence home, because she's very weak. On the other side, my grandfather is slowing down - forgetting things, getting lost in conversations, getting confused. And grandma has lost more weight, Mom tells me - she last weighted in at something like 68 lbs., and the doctor is concerned about her emphysema. She going back this week for x-rays.

I talk on the phone with Mom sometimes, maybe once or twice a week. She's running herself ragged trying to juggle everything - even though she SAYS she's not.

I'm worried about her. I'm worried about my Dad too. And I'm worried about my grandparents. I know that they're getting older. I know what's coming. And I know there's nothing I can do about it. But I'm still worried

And I'm still afraid.

Ramblings

Sometimes trying to develop a new character is interesting and revealing. I get the chance to look at things from a slightly different perspective.
_____

Within the confines of my own thoughts, I pace. Counting out the steps as I go. The wisps of memory, the smoldering vestiges of hope, the lingering caress of dreams. Cataloguing them with each step, each pace, one foot followed by another, until I reach the end. Then I turn, reversing my course, to start the process yet again.

Counting again.

So much, and yet so little as well. So much left undone. So little, accomplished. And so little time. Behind me, the span of decades lost. Wasted. Thrown away in the name of … what, exactly? For want of money? Power? Hatred? Revenge? Glory? Freedom?

Or was it fear?

So pitiful. I see it now, so clearly. Caught in a web of lies, though I did not know it at the time. Lies I was told, and believed, because I was too foolish to stop and question. But still a web of my own weaving. And so the blame lies on me, and me alone.

The past cannot be changed. It is what it is, and nothing more. The years lost cannot be taken back. No amount of regret can turn back the course of time.

And yet, regret lingers. Cannot be banished by reason, by understanding. Such things are under the mind’s purview. Emotions, under reign of the heart. Emotions such as regret. Such as guilt. Such as longing. Such as hatred and desire as well.

A lifetime of such, I’ve had.

Enough. No more. My sword I lay down, here and now. Never again will I wield it in battle. Though through the generations my family has borne it in honor, never again shall it wield me. No more for me, this path of rage and hatred. Another path I shall find, old as I am. Another way.

They will not look kindly on this act, that I know. But such is the price to be paid. I will pay it. My name, my rank, my clan – these things, I give up. My family lays shattered already, broken beyond all hope of repair. My son, dead from following his father’s path, my path – the path of the sword. My wife, near-mad with grief over our boy’s death, filled with anger and blame. My daughter, filled with youthful zeal and belief, unable to see beyond the web of lies and illusions they use to beguile.

I am alone. I am myself. And somehow, some way, I shall find my path.

Grumpy

(Warning: This is a WoW-related post. And something of a rant. If you are unfamiliar with WoW, you may not understand the entire rant. For that, I apologize.)

Ah, the raid instance known as Molten Core. Where all the big kids go to duke it out with extremely powerful monsters of flamey hurtiness in the name of "uber phat lewts." Where folks must go, time and time and time again, in order to get their "leet" armor for their class, going again and again and again on the off chance that they might maybe, just maybe, find that drop they were needing.

Over, and over, and over, and over...

The very thought of it made me cringe. Made me shudder. For a long, long time, I resisted every invitation. Especially since I much rather play my dwarven paladin IC over OOC, and most raids of Molten Core are by necessity OOC. And sitting at the computer for more than 6 hours straight staring at the screen and having to be completely OOC...?

Bleh.

I mean, in all honesty, I like Branny more than I like *me.* I'm stuck in my own skin 24/7 as it is - I like my WoW time being spent trying to look at the world through eyes not completely my own. It's more enjoyable. It's a nice escape.

Then someone said they were going to start an IC group to run through MC. A group which would be consisted of RPers - not hard-core raiders, but dedicated RPers who would merrily RP their way through the Core. And I got invited.

The idea was intriguing. RP and Raid? At first, I was hesitant, not wanting to go. I know myself - I am not much of a raider. The whole "lewt" thing isn't that important to me. Oh, not to say I don't drool a bit when I see someone dressed up in all matching high-end armor or anything. But, knowing the number of hours necessary to GET to the point where you can get all that, well, seems like an awful lot of work just for a few pixelated goodies. I'm not "leet," I don't need (or honestly deserve) stuff like that. There are no rewards for being IC - but that doesn't matter, I prefer being IC to "lewts" anyway.

Not to say I don't enjoy being OOC from time to time. I thoroughly enjoy running instances with Tatsurai and friends from their guild, Rising Nova, most of whom are usually OOC. There's nothing wrong with playing the game OOC. It's a lot faster when you run things OOC. You get people being silly and goofy and joking around, and it can be a lot of fun.

But RPing your way though an instance can also be a lot of fun. It's just labor-intensive. But was it possible to do for a large 40-man raid? This group seemed to think so. So, after much encouragement from various friends, I agreed to go. And went. Twice.

And griped through the entire thing. Twice.

There was little if any RPing. People weren't even bothering to try to be IC. There was just a lot of goofiness, and silliness, and general playfulness going on. Now had this been a raid with non-RPers, or light-RPers, I probably would have been fine. But this had been billed as an RP Raid. An IC Raid. Filled with stellar RPers, some of whom I've played with quite a bit over the last year or so. I know it's not easy to play IC when learning a new dungeon, but I thought that we'd at least try to stay somewhat IC. But that wasn't the case. And it left me feeling disappointed and betrayed.

I feel bad. I feel guilty. Friends want me there. They had fun there. They look forward to going back. Me? Every moment spent there OOC made me more and more irritable. I took no satisfaction in successfully taking down boss monsters. No sense of victory or pride. No sense of belonging, of being a contributing member. Only a growing sense dissatisfaction and disappointment. A growing sense of division and loss.

A sense of, once again, being left behind. And of knowing that, once again, it was no one else's fault but my own.

Still, even so, I just can't force myself to continue. I'm not having fun. It's just making me grumpy and irritable. Deb and Wes have had to listen to my griping about it for two weeks now.

It's time to face facts: I just don't belong.

Worried

Just chatted with my brother very briefly a bit ago. He logged in just to tell me that I should wait to call Mom later, because they were leaving. He said that our grandmother, who is 93 years old, was just hospitalized. Something about her calcium levels being low. He didn't have a whole lot of time to find out or give me details.

At the moment, I'm sitting here alone in my room. Worried. Very worried. And feeling guilty. I should be there.

I know all the arguments. I need to be my own person. There's nothing I would have been able to do anyway. All of that, I know. And is true. But I still feel guilty

I still feel bad.

I'm still worried.

Family has always been the most important thing to me. Always. Before friends, even before myself - though not always, as I do have a selfish side - but often, family was always first. Now, now I'm far away. I can't be there for them. I can't drop everything and just go. I'm too far away to just drive and be there, where I'm needed.

And it hurts.

Dust

Maybe sometimes it's better to have tried, and failed, than to have never tried at all. After all, you only learn from experience, and that means the occasional failure. And the occasional bit of pain. And then, they say, you move forward, and move on, past the pain and on to something new.

... but why is it that every time I try, I always end up wanting to jab a really sharp blade into my heart?

The Western way of thought is to continually move forward, never looking back. But I can't buy into that. Not completely. I always want to look back. I don't want to forget. Forgetting can make you complacent. The Asian way of thought is to go around and around, again and again, over and over, and ending up in the same place you started - but hopefully wiser within. But I don't feel any wiser, just more scarred.

I don't know what it is. Others look at their accomplishments, their successes. I look not at my successes, but at my failures. And there are so many failures.

I've always tried to shed my selfishness, and have always tried to strive for harmony with others. To help others, and make them happy. And yet it's all a lie, because I'm very selfish, inside myself where no one else can see. And there, inside myself, inside my heart, I feel no harmony. No happiness.

Only emptiness.

The lifeblood poured forth from the beast's wounded heart - yet it yielded only dust...

what a craptastic person I am

Ever feel like you're just not worth the pollution expelled by gaseous bovines? Ever feel as out-of-place as a shot of scotch at an AA meeting? Ever feel as useful as that bit of toilet paper stuck to some guy's shoe?

...yeah, that's about where I stand right about now.

I just don't belong,
I'm outta my place.
My meaning is empty,
I'm losing the race.

I forgot a friend's birthday last week. Almost forgot my mom's too. I'm such a self-absorbed fool sometimes.

I'm drifting away,
I'm falling apart.
There's no one to blame,
I'm empty at heart.

And I know I'm just getting left behind again. I always do. I should just stop playing. There's just too much, and I can't get it all done in time, I know I can't. I don't have the time, the energy, or the skill. I'm not good enough, I'm not qualified enough, I'm not ready enough. Just like always, I'll get a nice pat on the head and be sent away by the big kids to play with the babies in the corner. It's always the same. Every single time. Every single fing time.

It's no one's fault but my own. I don't blame anyone else. Just me. And sometimes, I wonder why I even try anymore.

I'm running on empty,
There's nothing much left.
Just waiting in shadows,
And dreaming of death.

Of course, it's never that easy. Never.

...What the...?

A couple of random thoughts for the week...

1.) What drives squirrels to commit the act of jisatsu (trans: suicide) by throwing themselves upon transformers in the midst of winter? Desperation? Depression, caused by an inability to locate his hidden winter stash of nuts and various foodstuffs? The stress of being chased by dogs, cat, and small human children wearing enough clothing that even falling down two flights of stairs would leave them completely uninjured and unbruised?

Limited brainpower?

Oh woe, the sufferings and hardships that the poor, benighted squirrel must have suffered in squirrely silence. How long did he struggle to contain his squirrely anguish. All in vain, for as the pain grew and grew, the banality of his existance became at long last overwhelming, until at last, in an desperate act of self-negation, he flung his little rodent body down upon the crackling mass of flowing electrons.

And thus, for nearly 2 hours, power for a major business area was cut off.

In death, the lowly squirrel makes a momentary impact upon the greater world. And manages to annoy workers and business owners. Heh.

2.) It's cold. It's windy. It's dark. Outside, 6 - 10 people wait, bundled up against the frigid conditions, gathered near each other for relative shelter from the chilly breeze. Waiting for the doors of the bus to open, and welcome them, shelter them from the cold. Inside the air is warmed by the still-running engine. They can almost feel the warmth blowing through the vents, blowing behind the metal and glass doors.

But they are all denied entry. Denied by the driver, who himself stands in comfort, munching contentedly on his hot dog snack and sipping his bottled soda. He stands there, almost smugly watching the shivering throng, shedding his heavy jacket and thick gloves to bask in the warmth in his short-sleeved shirt. As we, helpless captives of this display of callous cruelty, are forced to watch. And wait. In the cold.

...jerk...

Random Question

Random question of the day: if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?


Random answer: blueberry coffee


(...yeah, try to make sense outta that if you can. :P )

Left-Over Insomnia

I'm so tired. The past two days, I've been out walking here and there in the rain. And last night I was suffering from one of my typical anticipation (anxiety?) moments, and could not sleep. I feel exhausted. I really should be sleeping. Yet, I lay down, and just as my thoughts start to fuzz out, I jolt back awake again.

I can't settle my mind. I'm too keyed up. But I'm also too tired to do anything substantial, like any serious writing or design practice or studying. I try, but I can't seem to focus enough, and my eyes start drooping. And again, I try to go lay down, and after a few minutes my mind goes into overdrive yet again. I'm almost to the point of incoherent babble.

...

...

...oh wait, I do that anyway. *shrug*

Insomnia...

...means I can't sleep... I'm too hyper/nervous/hyper/silly/tired/hyper to sleep.

SLEEPIES! Where are you, sleepies! Don't leave a poor taru up and restless, unable to find peace and nice soft dreamies in your gentle embrace! Don't run away - everyone knows tarus aren't scary!

*toddles off in futile pursuit of sneaky sleepies, which evade her grasp*

Fear

A national talent agency contacted me this week. They saw my resume posted online, and e-mailed me. I e-mailed them back, telling them I’d be interested (and happy!) to discuss things with them… and someone called me back (...sadly I wasn’t near the phone, and didn’t notice the message blinking until after 7pm...dammit... >_<).

And now, suddenly, I’m utterly terrified.

What if my skills aren’t good enough? What if they think I’m a total loser? What if my samples suck, and don’t look professional, and aren’t even worth the paper they’re printed on? What if I can’t be coherent on the phone, and make myself look like a total idiot?

What the heck is wrong with me?

I mean, I know I’m a hard worker. I’m dedicated, and determined when I put my mind to it. I’m organized and thorough about my work, and I enjoy being able to put my creativity to work everyday. I’m always willing to go the extra mile to make sure things are done correctly, neatly, and on time.

So why the hell am I so scared?

Insecurity

It's the start of my third month out here, and I have to admit I've been feeling a little insecure. Not that I'm ready to give up or anything. No, not yet. It's too soon for that. I'm just feeling kind of vulnerable.

It also doesn't help that I've been having tension headaches again. And my tummy has been a little ornery. Probably from me stressing out. Again. Well, the tummy probably is. The headache might have something to do with me not sleeping well, not getting as much caffeine, and maybe sour neck and shoulder muscles from hunching over my computer keyboard a bit.

And it's raining still. I need an umbrella. And boots. And a job. I could go out in the rain, but knowing my immune system (or lack thereof), I'd probably manage to catch pneumonia or something.

...

Minor non-related rant...

I have the TV on in the background right now. It's on the History Channel. A Japanese scientist is talking about something, and they have someone voicing over his explanation in English. BUT, the English-speaker is talking with a REALLY REALLY bad Japanesey accent.

Dear History Channel - why the heck do you do this? I mean, honestly, we all KNOW that the person you have voicing over the explanation most likely does NOT actually speak with such a heavy fake-Japanese accent. Why do you insult our intellegence by subjecting us to this REALLY BAD fake-Japanese accent from this scientist? It sounds bad, no one believes it, it's rather insulting, and it's just stupid. You undermine the credibility of your supposed scientific expert. I mean, who can take his presented evidence seriously when he sounds like one of those actors in an old Godzilla movie?

Gah. Once again I am reminded why I don't watch programs on the History Channel much. I'm not one of those hyper-sensitive "OMG YOU RACIST COMMIE BASTARDS!" kind of Asians about this sort of thing, but I still find it mildly offensive.

*sigh*

Ah well, back to scouring the job boards.

Belated New Year's Post(aru)!

Went back home to visit family for New Years. Yay! Didn’t do much in the way of blogging during my stay, there was a lot going on. But I did want to make a littaru note here!

Friday

Flew back home, and was VERY disappointed with the service – from the moment I checked in, it was just bad. The guy behind the check-in counter was rude to a woman ahead of me, who had just missed her connecting flight by like 5 minutes. It wasn’t really her fault, because the flight was a different airline, and she had to grab her luggage from baggage claim.

Rather than be helpful, the man was extremely gruff and showed little sympathy for the woman’s plight. All he did was quote company policy over and over, and put her on the standby list for the next flight, rather than the flight the next morning, which is what she was asking for. It was the absolute worst example of good customer service I’ve ever seen. Absolutely abysmal.

The flight was a little late, that wasn’t so bad. But this airline made me have to wait for my seating assignment, rather than let me choose a seat ahead of time. Thus it was that I (and several others) were standing around waiting and waiting, until finally they assigned seating for us. And I somehow got assigned an exit row seat. Umm… yeah… how the heck am I supposed to be able to assist people in the case of an emergency?? Most people can’t even SEE me unless I stand on a step-stool or something.

Not only that, but the flight attendants on the plane were a little on the brusque side, and seemed more interested in their own comfort, rather than the comfort of their passengers. I mean, they did their job and all, but they didn’t really make us feel like we were really welcome or anything. It was more like they wanted us to hurry up and get off the plane so they could take the rest of the evening off.

Well at least I was glad when the flight was over. Kinda.

When we arrived in LAX, we landed in Terminal 6. However, our luggage was getting unloaded at Terminal 7. Which meant we all got to troop over to the next terminal to retrieve our belongings. This after the wonderful friendly and slightly late flight we had to endure.

Hmm… next time, I think I’ll avoid this particular airline, even if it does mean I have to pay 20 bucks more. Yeash. Talk about unfriendly flying…

Saturday

Ah, New Year’s Eve. I spent the whole day with my mom. Shopping. Originally we had a plan for our shopping day – start off with breakfast, then take my suit to get altered at the tailors, then wander the mall a bit, then grab some lunch and head home. However, that plan got derailed by my dad wanting to take me to get some warmer clothing first. So we were a bit off schedule, which tends to make the mom a little disgruntled.

We didn’t do as much shopping as Mom usually does. Still, it was a pretty good day. She found some really cool deals, as always! A $200 leather briefcase, on sale for $65. Two blouses, 50% off original price. I don’t know how she does it.

Stopped at the Chick-fil-a for lunch. Mmmm… chicken. Good as always. We shared the strips, as neither of us were that hungry, just a little peckish.

Back home, the rest of the day was a little quiet. We had a nice dinner, and together we watched the New Year special Japanese variety music show that they have every year. Nice and homey.

Sunday

New Year’s Day! Woke up to the traditional breakfast – ozoni! Mmmm… mochi goodness…

After breakfast, Mom started getting things ready for the traditional New Year’s family gathering at Grandma house. Chinese chicken salad, as always. I helped a bit. Mom went to Grandma’s house first, and then my brother, his girlfriend, and I went a bit later. We spent quite a long time there, with family. My cousins and aunts were there, and we had a pretty good time. By the time we got back home, it was around 9pm.

We watched a little TV together, then I played a little old-school video games on the computer before turning in for the night.

Monday

Both Mom and Dad had the day off today – sadly, the rain prevented Dad from going off to play golf. And it rained on the Rose Parade for the first time in 51 years. (No, it wasn't my fault. I didn't bring the rain with me. :/ )

Also went with Dad to visit my grandmother (his mom). She seems more and more distanced from us, and from reality. She just doesn’t seem completely there anymore. She can’t hear very well, her memory seems unclear, and she’s withdrawn. It’s painful to watch.

Tuesday

The first workday of the new year. Damn, I need to find a job. Mom and Dad were both off to work, of course.

I wanted to go check out computers for Mom – she’s been talking about getting one, since my old computer’s motherboard is dying a slow death, and can’t be relied upon. However, my old car had a dead battery, so the brother and I asked an old friend to drive us around. He agreed. We went to Fry’s, and Best Buy’s, looking at different options that might interest Mom. We also had some lunch – El Pollo Loco, in fact. Gotta love the crazy chicken. And I kinda miss it, as I’ve not seen one in the Portland area yet.

I also made some dinner – oyako donburi. I thought it would be a nice change for Mom, to have dinner ready when she got home instead of having to cook something after a long day at work. I know she’s been rather stressed out at work lately. After she ate, we all went to the Best Buy’s again, so she could take a look at what we thought would be a good deal for her. But as the cousins work at Best Buys, we just wrote down the information for now, and Mom will see if they can get a discount. She was also looking for a new TV, but she’s particular about what brand, and they didn’t have much in stock so close after Christmas, so she decided to wait a bit.

Wednesday

Wanted to get some coffee to take back today, so had to ask the friend to drive me out again. Car still isn’t working. The brother elected to stay home, as he was expecting something to come in the mail today and wanted to be at hand to receive it personally. So off we went. Unfortunately, the coffee place I wanted to get coffee for was still having problems with their new fancy cash machine computer thingy, and they were still unable to accept gift cards (I had tried back in November too, but they weren’t up then either). So I forked over cash for the coffee. After that we had some lunch, stopped by the game store, and went back to the house.

Thursday

Decided to spend a quite day at home. Watched some TV, puttered around a bit with the old (dying) computer, and went walking to the store for supplies to make the folks dinner – even though I was going out to dinner with my friends. I made the folks some pizza, with fresh pizza dough and cheese from the local Italian deli. I also got Mom some of their fresh sourdough bread, since she likes their sourdough so much.

Looking around, you can't tell it was raining just on Monday. It's clear and nice – and hot! Must have been at least in the high 80's. Unusually warm weather for this time of year, even for LA. *sigh*

Everything was all ready in the refrigerator, until about 5. That’s when I popped the pizza into the oven. It was nice and ready just as Mom walked in the door. Talk about the perfect timing!

The brother and I went to dinner with my friends, who came to pick me up at the house. It was a fun evening, and as always we stayed out WAAAY too late. We left the house maybe around 7pm, and didn’t leave the restaurant until maybe 10ish. Talking, talking, talking.

It was great to catch up with everyone again.

Friday

Dad took the opportunity yesterday to charge up the battery of the old car, so I was able to be independently mobile! Woo!

Went to pick up the suits. The slacks were a little too long still, so the seamstress told us to come back in 30 minutes while she made the final adjustments. The brother and I went to loiter a bit at the game store and the computer store as well. Before we knew it, it was time. This time, the slacks fit perfectly. We picked up some lunch on the way home.

I did the laundry, and started with the packing. The suitcase mostly was packed, but still need to finish cleaning out the air pot, so got on that. Then before I knew it, it was time to head off to dinner.

This time, dinner was with friends formerly fellow employees of hell. And again, it was a lot of fun. The brother and his girlfriend joined us, as did our friend-the-driver. It really was great.

I miss them all a lot.

Saturday

Mom wanted to do a little more shopping today. So off we went. We got a whole lot of stuff, and I had to do a little bit of repacking. It was great to spend time with Mom, as we didn’t get as much time together as we would have liked, what with her being so tired from work. She almost called in sick one day just so we could do stuff, but she decided it was better not to play hooky that way. (Yeah, I know where I get that responsibility-to-work thing…) I had some difficulty with getting the air pot clean, but Dad helped with that.

I miscalculated though on the time, and we ended up getting to the airport late. I barely managed to get to the gate – they were already boarding. But my luggage didn’t make it, and when I arrived in Portland we discovered that my suitcase had not been on the plane. They told me that the luggage was inbound on the following flight, but wouldn’t arrive until 11:30pm – a wait of almost 2 hours. They said that they could deliver the luggage to the house, but with a fee (since it was my fault I was late). I agreed, and they said they’d deliver the luggage a bit after 1am.

…

The luggage didn’t arrive until about 3am. I think the driver got a bit lost. But I was just so glad to get my suitcase I didn’t care. Everything was there, and I immediately took my suit and hung it up. I didn’t bother unpacking anything else though, as I was exhausted by this time.

The visit home is all over now. I’m happy and sad both at the same time, I guess. Hopefully I’ll find some work soon, and then can really begin adjusting better to this new life – the losing the old life won’t be so painful.

In the meantime, I gots lost of Japanese snacks from the Mom. I guess that helps. Mmmm… Pocky… *munch munch*