"Maybe I'm a ghost."

My will to write has been becoming smaller as these recent days haul on. I don't have things to write about. Rather, I'm more interested in living through all these moments than passing the time to capture them. It's true when said, "As you look to the past you miss the now and future." I'm sort of talking to myself here because I'm not being very specific and none of you who read this will really understand what I'm referring to. That's usually how I write, in a mysterious vague code. I'm not secretive, I don't just easily give away things information to people that don't try to figure it out themselves. Ask me anything and I'll answer bluntly. Instead of writing, lately I've been reading through all I've been writing within the past year. I'm almost gifted in self awareness as I read about myself. Things I already knew, however they're laid out in bold print to my face. It's a cold embrace to take in knowing who you are. It's not anything to do with not being who you want to be or anything of the sort. The true cause of this comforting vibe is having yourself finally understood. Good, bad or indifferent, you finally have yourself there, on paper, with everything described. Again, this is vague. These are more of feelings than thoughts and thus there are no words for any of this. Lately I've been more than tired. I do my bidding in dreams. There's so many awkward moments that almost seem that time itself is embarrassed. That things don't belong in this reality when they happen. Almost as if to say, "Oops, was that noticable?" Look again, I'm vague. Even to myself. I can't keep myself to continue typing as I'm distracted listening to the sound of key strokes swell in volume, then diminish in unison. As I live through this living writer's block, the ending will bring me to some sort of inspiration for a horror tale, that of which I'm sure.

Open Journal

My thoughts today are scattered. Tomorrow I'm presenting a bill to model congress to establish affordable fundamental health care, life insurance and car insurance. Before you start to assume I'm a socialist, allow me to explain. Now, affordable is defined by figuring a state's living expense on minimum wage. These services/programs should be affordable for folks who cannot conjure such expenses for their health care, life insurance and car insurance. It is not free. It's just a means for everyone to have the opportunity, since we are a land greatly in depth of that concept, to purchase it if needed. It shouldn't be limited to just the poverty stricken citizens. All who would rather have this cheaper form of fundamental care may apply. By fundamental, I mean the absolute basics. Which include doctor visits, X-rays, emergency room visits, etc. Nothing like plastic surgery or prescriptions at all. There is a market for these services aside from governmental aid. They should provide the more elaborate plans offering more coverage and the like. A team is only as strong as its weakest player, and we must help all those in hardship to rise in unity. I don't even see how it can even be conceivable for people to be in debt for paying for the loss and burial of a loved one. Paying for your license, paying a mandatory insurance, is ridiculous. Lets make this affordable for all to have. Lets have those bigger corporations be the ones to offer your car's coverage and whatnot. In fact, lets make this a bundle pack with all three included at said figured rate established by minimum wage. So yes, this is a socialist idea. However, it's achieved by capitalist means.

Pan's Labyrynth

To define a favorite movie, covers a lot of requirements. Considering there's various genres, themes, effects and whatnot, a great film must capture it all or find a way for it not to be needed. I propose Pan's Labyrinth. In every aspect, it is as artistic as it gets. Set in a turbulent era of Spain, the whole movie is in Spanish with subtitles; of course. Although it's a French-Canadian film, they really made sure everything was exactly as it would have really been. It's a very far fetched tale that's meant to be taken very seriously. Every scene is seemingly dramatic, no matter how miniscule it is to the major picture. Everything is relative to some other point of the movie. Not only was this movie written flawlessly, it's beautiful to look at. Everything is the best of quality. There's no solid concrete plot. It's a young girl's imagination explained very vaguely. The whole purpose of the story is to invoke your own imagination and to comprehend it all with your own eyes and ears. Some scenes are left a mystery and unsolved even after the credits start to roll. Needing more sequels or prequels, I doubt that will happen due to the sheer artistic drive of its purpose.

The Vegan Butcher.

JASKA, Undercover vegan butcher for PETA.
MR. ROAT, Butcher from India inhumanely slaughtering animals and adding meat products into vegan meals.

MR. ROAT: Where’s my knife?

JASKA: I have your knife, Mr. Roat.

MR. ROAT: Where did you put it, boy?

JASKA: (Hides the knife behind his back.)

MR. ROAT: (Mr. Roat walks to the freezer room where Jaska replied from. The knife reflects light to Mr. Roat’s eyes.) Give me the knife. (Mr. Roat snatches the knife away quickly.) Why were you hiding it?

JASKA: (Jaska’s eyes widen.) I was getting cow tongues.

MR. ROAT: (Mr. Roat is appalled with what Jaska just said.) You know we don’t sell nor eat cow in this country! You savage… what’s wrong with you, boy? Do you need the day off?

JASKA: Oh, I’m fine. (Jaska’s Finnish accent slips.) Yous knows its! (Jaska realizes his mistake and pauses for a second.) I’ll take the day off though. (Jaska slowly walks out of the butcher shop and makes a call on his cell phone.) This is parrot to black beard; the fish is out of the barrel. Make em’ walk the plank!

MR. ROAT: (Mr. Roat slightly over hears the conversation and spies behind the back door.) Jaska! What is this?

JASKA: (Jaska flips his sun glasses down; covering his eyes.) I’m an undercover vegan butcher from PETA. My team of assembly has a bounty on you.

MR. ROAT: I have done no wrong, Jaska! Nothing!

JASKA: Explain that to the vegetable soup tainted with your dirty pork!

MR. ROAT: (As the bounty screeches through the parking lot, they barrage through the back door of their vehicle. Mr. Roat is tackled to the cold concrete pavement, and brought to local authorities.) You unnatural freaks! You won’t eat an animal, but you’ll falsely imprison me? Noo!

What was there, that I did not see.

The back porch called out for me. The sounds of a swamp littered of insect species screeched as the sound convulsed in pain. Not even I know what fate will be beyond the threshold of my sheltered safety. Although superficial to believe thin walls could protect me from a ubiquitous evil, it's the only security I had left.
Tranquility of the dark kind is often beautiful. It was luring me; the dim shimmer eclipsed moon. The moon's rays reflected a muck tainted light. The depths of this mud and gore are unknown to any living being. Yet, all its inhabitants had arisen in death to warn any fool risking to have been these cadaver's companions in that water filled grave.
My heroic decision has been cast. I march through the disease and impending doom of death to find this source of ferocity. It was no longer after I started that trek to find what I dreaded. “Devour!” shot out of the mandibles of that gargantuan locust. My position was at a halt. No where to go; I was swarmed.
There was not a single one I feared, yet the number of battle ready vermin was what reeked terror. The cockroaches twitched and the hoppers of grass leaped. Within that moment I had to accept what was to become of myself. This wasn’t the end; which I did not know then. The moon escaped the blocked alignment to show itself again. It showered the land and devastated scene of chaos with hope and a dark shine. My worries have passed and I now went back to retire for the night. Whatever was out there, was better left alone and unknown.

Scandals, presidents and elections!

Tomorrow is a day of pending greatness! I shall cast my decision to promote America for what I believe is the better. I won't allow myself to argue ideals through here, yet I will say I'm supporting Barrack Obama. Contrary to most ideas, I think he lacks speaking skills. He seems to hold back information, and dumb things down for me to understand. Now, I know I'm more informed on issues, I follow politics daily, so he's appealing to all people together. However, in our history, Americans don't like voting people whom appear smarter than them. It's understandable, I suppose. McCain is a decent speaker, if you like redundancy. I believe in the policies of the democratic party, for now anyway. Please vote, if you can. It will show America's true wide demographics of our nation. Our government is run by those who show up. Don't be absent when it's your turn to speak. Whoever you believe is for the better, add your input. Together, with all our voices, we can build a better place. Plausibly in time bringing all parties together. Sure, I may sound goofy and optimistic saying this. Yet, I truly believe whom ever wins this race, will bring our county to a better standard of living. After all, the only way from rock bottom is up. HA!

Bummer..

As we're all talking about books and whatnot, I've come to realize I don't read any of the sort. The only ones I ever remember reading by my own choice are like, Goosebumps. Although that makes me chuckle, it really makes me think of how analystic I am of other's writing. I'd rather be the writer, the creator. As I read other work, I'll end up thinking about what I would have done, how it could be better. Not in a pessimistic way, yet I'm alwys pushing for the best. Then I started thinking about my favorie movie and which could possibly be written as a book. First to come to mind is American Beauty (1999).

"American Beauty is a 1999 drama film set in modern American suburbia. Starring Kevin Spacey and Annette Bening, it was the feature film debut for writer Alan Ball and director Sam Mendes. A massive success both critically and commercially, all four were nominated for Academy Awards, and the film won a total of five including Best Picture."
- Wikipedia.

So if a writer wrote this, I guess that's pretty close to being a book! Erhm! So I can start now.


Normality is a flaw. Superficiality is in the way of bliss. Return to the years you love. Be who you want to, before it's too late. Don't take life so seriously, no one ever made it out alive.

CUT SHORT. I'll go on later.

Guitar solo! Take the lead!

Today is rather dull. In comparison to most other days, anyway. I don't have much to say for that, so lets talks about guitars. I've been playing ever since I could even hold a guitar. I started taking guitar, and music for that matter, seriously at the young age of 8. I've put some of my songs onto an actual CD before. I've accomplish some big goals. I didn't make any money out of it though, DRATS! Seriously, I at least can say I did what all the other pros have. I'm still young, who knows how much farther I'll go. I've been out of the loop of my music for awhile. I'm on downtime between bands as of now. I'm just practicing to myself and searching, freely, for a band that suits me best. Thats the hardship of music. Finding other people with such precisely similar tastes as you. Well, I got off of the guitar talk, so.. I own a three thousand dollar guitar. Which I bought at a flea market for 175. What a steal! It's a 1970 Ibanez Stratocaster. The whole thing is custom. It really is a relic of time. Short story of the business, Fender made the first Stratocaster and had the rights to it. Ibanez made theirs, and got sued for doing so. So, there's not many under the Ibanez label. Of course now all you have to do is change the sizes of guitars within millimeters and you won't get in any trouble so this really isn't a concern anymore. Yet, aged guitars have a unique sound. This one is well built, althought made in Japan. However, it's not like it was manufactured in a factory. Ibanez is obviously a Japanese name, it's all hand built. I got really lucky. However, I want to sell it. I have another guitar, and I need money for a car, ha! So I'll probably sell it, buy a car, rely on my back up guitar and wait for a band until I buy a brand new guitar. That's it for my 10 minutes. DA-DA-DITTY-DAT-DAT THAT'S ALL FOLKS!

PS
Go me and my inability to listen to instructions and posted this as a reply. XD Even the greatest of diamons are flawed. So, pft! Anyways. Question to all of you, do you play any instruments? If so, what do you own? .. and how long have you been playing for?

In response to the staring activity:

It was entertaining. I'm really curious how I'm described. Sure it was odd staring at someone and printing their vibrant colors of life into mere black ink and white paper. I do not know how others comprehend me. Which is why I'm unnerved with curiosity as to what I'm made out to be abroad of within myself. I'm sure my facial piercings would be a dead ringer of who I am. Or my scruff of an ongoing growth of a beard (Father Time has nothing one me!). Most might not know, I actually have a mohawk; which I lay flat. I do have thick eyebrows, my eyes are one of a kind. They're a forest emerald green when looked at close. Yet hold a sort of Amber, hazing them in a dark tint. My face has very sharp features. If I shaved, did my hair right, took out the piercings.. I do look rather up-kept and snobby. My ears seems big, because as said I have a mohawk and the sides of my head are shaved and my hair seems thin when laid down across. It's an illusion, because of what you don't realize to be true. In actuality, they're small, sharp and elf-like, ha. My cheek bones are very high set, and really sharp; narrow as well. My skin is very pale. I choose to be. Naturally I can tan easily, I am very much Italian as it is (second generation from Italy. My grandparents don't speak English at all). My hair itself is thick and slightly wavy. I work with what it is, and let it be natural. I do have streaks of blond in it; which are fading away. My hair is naturally very dark and easily calmed by sunlight to create a very dusky faded brown. Lacking shine yet full of luster. My hair is coarse, only nice to the touch if wet. Although I don't like my hair, it beats the option of shaving my head and/or becoming bald. I adore the look of a worn hard worker with personality oozing from my prowess. My piercings flaunting a blunt strong individual, my beard holding a symbol of my maturity and growth and my sharp features to show wit and intelligence. While my hair gives off my hippie life style of choice; being natural that is. As well as showing my sense of edge within the style of a mohawk. Everything I do is with reasoning. I look the way I do because I choose to be this way. I like the way I look. I'm an acquired taste. Some may find me attractive, others do not. With my looks, I wish to show who I am, not to show my beauty. My beauty rests within. Although it's easy to misunderstand me, I look for approval only when I look into a mirror. This sort of leaves nothing to reply to. I'm just ranting to express how I feel about myself and how I choose to portray myself to the world via my body.

Our class seems very diverse of personalities. Each description will more than likely be easily spotted.

PS
Since I didn't give anything to reply to.. I ask, is my description how you see me in your eyes? Or do you suddenly unravel more of who I am through this? Thanks for reading this. It seems to be a bit long. Yet, at least it was entertaining. Right, right? Ha. Tah tah! :]

In class: Fantasy

As I read first, I noticed to the listener I was very misunderstood. Instead of using many ridiculous words, I did use a few though, I concentrated with intellectual words and enhanced my abstract mode. Simply, it was a tale of me restoring myself into some new living creature. That I might end up a plant, or something completely new. Also, that no matter what I'd become, I'd always have a conscious mind. Very abstract, as I said. It was a very original concept and because of which I may expand this to a much longer story. Unlike most of the other stories read aloud, mine held no concrete place or any traces of being well defined. It was able to be interpretive individually. To me, that's more tangible when you're able to "play" with what a writer teases your mind with, rather than a writer giving away an exact setting and plot. I did have a guideline to the fantasy, however the rest was up to imagination and wonder. Looking back, I think the work put into this more skill than the actual writing. That's what I do, I use my ability as a writer to create the revolutionary ideals of styles of writing and all the details aside from the words read in literature. I'm cutting this short before I start to ramble. I just felt I had to share these thoughts with all of you, considering I didn't have time in class to.

PS
We should all post our own perceptions and conveyed messages we wanted to express in our fantasies. Share the writing if you wish, I just want to know how all of you put thought into your writing and what sort of ideals you have with writing. Also, feel free to share your thoughts on what I read to all of you.

Explanation of myself.

"Introversion is "the state of or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one's own mental life". Introverts tend to be quiet, low-key, deliberate, and relatively less engaged in social situations. They often take pleasure in solitary activities such as reading, writing, drawing, watching movies, and using computers. The archetypal artist, writer, sculptor, composer and inventor are all highly introverted. An introverted person is likely to enjoy time spent alone and find less reward in time spent with large groups of people (although they tend to enjoy interactions with close friends, and are in many cases married). They prefer to concentrate on a single activity at a time and like to observe situations before they participate.

Introversion is not the same as shyness, though introverts may also be shy. Introverts choose solitary over social activities by preference, whereas shy people avoid social encounters out of fear.

An introvert is energized when alone. Introverts tend to "fade" when with people and can easily become overstimulated with too many others around. Introverts tend to think before speaking."

www.dictionary.com definition of introverted.

I prefer NOT to be alone. I'm NOT shy.Yet, I'm soft spoken. My words when spoken are brutal, blunt and cold; not in a rude manner though. I'm often left in thought so often that I merely forget to speak out and share those thoughts. I'm not obnoxiously loud and quick to blot out my opinion. I quoted the DENOTATION (thank you Mrs. Morrison for the explanation of this, ha!) of this state of mind. We're all different and we all fall into different categories in different degrees. This is the CLOSEST representation to me. It's definitely not exact (ironic humor!).

So, I ask all of you.. what are you?
Introverted?
Extroverted?
Ambiverted? (Probably what I am. I haven't read into much of this before this.)


PS
Considering I've had one compliment on my use of colors to emphasize myself (thank you Zane), I'll continue to use it. I use each color for a specific reason.

The new American way.

Do as much as you can progressively accomplish. Sure, we advance quicker, better our lives and all the greatness is ours to have. Yet, is this really enjoyable? To submit defeat to slavery working constantly and consistently? Where is all these yearnings and accomplishments going? If you do that much, that's great, it takes so much to do so. Yet, how can you enjoy life if you're more infringed in the work place than where you work for to be at? That's a failed life, to me.


Just a shared thought of mine. I'm not lazy. However, your enjoyment should surpass your work.

Venus Blue Sonnet

My emotions slithered toward you like frost
I drowned in my dry oceans of bone dust
I taste the wreckage of ones whom are lost
I know this pale thing in the dark of trust
My life's ending came as slow as grave moss
I wept as we all get eaten by death
Slow desolation, I feel at a loss
The lovely one screams for her final breath
Love is rotting on the vine of your faith
Crumbling away in this bright, grand sunshine
I forever hope this won't end the eighth
Point me toward the sky and I will be fine
Love remains as long as our virtue stays
I hope this will last till my dying days

This is an Acid Bath song I revised into a sonnet (Ten syllables a line, first 14 line rhyme and then the final two rhyme. Total of 16 lines.). Very difficult. Why? To take words, that you didn't yourself put together, into a specific order in such a flowing, precise rhyming way, is something special in itself. Personally, I wouldn't use most of the words of choice in this writing. I stayed true to the song's lyrics and meaning. This puts a more artistic spin on the song so it's taken more seriously. As I believe it should, which is why I did this.

As I read this over, I remember this was from years ago. I would estimate about the age of 16. I see many flaws; such as, the excess use of "I". I chose to post this one first, to show that I'm creative enough to take such limited circumstances and create something unique, fresh and still the same. I would really appreciate positive critiques. For all negative, there is a positive. You want to say something that you don't like, word it positively. :] Also, please don't make comments on the topic or the words. That's nothing I had control over.

To end, I'll site my sources.. again.

Title: Venus Blue
Band: Acid Bath
Album: Paegan Terrorism Tactics (1996)
Lyrical writer: Dax Riggs

PS
That album title is very humorous to me. If you understand the beliefs of pagan, you'll understand the pun. Also, being a nihilist of religion, even myself was at a discord with the sky reference. As said, I kept its roots. It's what the original artist would expect; and respect that I shall.