Random Literary Review The Pearl by John Steinbeck was just recently re-read by yours truly. I first came across it as a Sophomore in my honours English class at a public high school just outside of Chicago.
After careful consideration and and an hour of my life reading the work, I have come to a conclusion...
The Pearl is the worst use of words on a page since they gave Mohommed Ali a pencil and told him to write an autobiography by hand.
That sound you hear now is either the sound of nearly ten million pissed off high school students agreeing with me or Michael J. Fox chopping carrots....
Borrowed List Hey, according to my Journals the following people have stuff of mine that I may need back. I am not being a jerk about this, if you could get it back to me soon or at least give me a call as to the matter it would be great. There is no rush...
Alicia- My pin-striped sport coat, 2 scriptwriting books Jessica- The Crow, Arkham Asylum (both graphic novels), the idiots guide to graphic novels. Maus volume 1 Allen- Heroes Season 1 DVD Jake B (not Fake Saxophone)- Starship Troopers novel Mike J- The Lost Boys DVD and Dead Poets' Society DVD
Again, please give me a call to arrange the future return. Again there is no rush on this. I am just trying to get ducks lined up in a row...
Now here's what I have of other peoples... Alice- Death Note volume 1 and 2 DVD, House season 1 disk 4, Gotham Knight DVD, Roommates- I am not going to bother listing it all. You know where I live... Come and get me.
A Political Quagmire... The US military fired Dan Choi, a military translator who is fluent in Arabic, was fired for admitting he's gay, openly gay at that. He's an Iraq war vet and a graduate of West Point.
He was fired...
Let me get this straight (excuse the pun), it's perfectly okay to torture a guy over eighty times in the hopes he'll spill the beans about terrorist activity all the while he's being held without habeas corpus or even being informed of what the hell he's being charged with and the Military fucking fires one of the few guys who can understand what the fuck the prisoner is saying during these "enhanced interrogation" sessions because Choi likes to decorate his home tastefully whilst singhing broadway tunes and sleeping with his male life partner?
Am I missing something here?
Where is the justice or morality iin that?
Let's torture this guy because he MIGHT have something to do with terrorism because that's okay but you get fired becase you putt from the rough. Oh yeah, in case you don't feel violated enough, we're taking away your benefits and pension. Have a nice day you silly fag.
I have become a total hermit again. It's been one month since I have gone out of my room and done anything worth a damn. I don't want to say that I am hiding, but I think I honestly am. It's like that line from the Soul Asylum song Runaway Train. "Wrong way on a one way track..." I haven't gone to the silly LARP game that I usually attend on Saturday nights. They killed my character.
I know it's coming off that I haven't come to game because I am pouting. That's not the case. Justin and I have been working on new characters, since they killed his character too. I just have lost interest. I feel there is some pretty blatant favouritism, but I am not going to fight that battle again.
I have been doing a lot of writing. Mostly academic writing for my parent's business, since it's nearing or is Finals time for the nations universities. I have also been doing some script writing and some personal writing. The only thing I really have abandoned, besides going out, is my personal journal.
I don't know why. It's currently sitting on my coffee table (yes, I broke down and got a crappy little coffee table. Windi's not around to throw it at me so I am fine with it). just staring at me. I may be going cray, but it's as if I can hear its empty pages calling out to me. I will have to silence it today. I can be more free within its pages than I can be on the internet. It's a privacy thing.
I wrote My Husband and it seems that people don't get it. I can see why. In short it's about a woman thinking about her husband and the positive. I try to convey loss and what could be missing. I think I will have to go back and re-tool it. I am not really comfortable with it.
Now please allow me to fly off a handle for a brief moment. I need to get something out.
You asked me to write a tune All about the things that go wrong And then you asked me to come home soon To a place where I belong
As I have locked myself in my room for the past month, I have been able to think. Where do I belong? I don't feel it's here. Don't get me wrong, I love New Orleans and my roommates. But I don't feel as if this is all natural. If I offend, I apologise, but bear with me. I need to figure out what I can do to honestly feel like I am home. Until then I am only lying to myself, and that's the worst lie of all.
But you stand on the other side Of the line in this place And you cannot see me, you are blind And this you can fake No, this you can fake
"You've created a false identity for yourself," she said to me a month ago. "I will make this right," I replied via text message. "Good." That's all there was. A simple one word answer. She does stand on the other side. I will make it right. I am not faking it. I guess my self-imposed isolation if the first step to fixing it. I have to be honest with me before I am honest with everyone else. P L I T Y I D G N A G E V I R P G N M I.
And sometimes, sometimes I wanna be I scream that I wanna be Anyone but me
I am screaming louder than I ever have, it's just no one can hear me. I don't want to be me. Not anymore. The person I am is a joke.
And I don't know if I can write about Chosen walls and the things you feel And I don't know if I can sing aloud Closing doors and showing you what's real
I find that despite what I have done, it may be too late to fix it all. I am referring to everything, every last one of my sins. Don't take this as an admission of defeat and that I am not going to try. It's always worth it to try. I know I am going to have to eat shit, I don't know if I can handle it. There's only one way to find out.
But I know when I close my eyes Late at night, there's only one thing The night's shown that she can lie It's your face, show me something Can you show me something
I still miss people. I dream of Katy at night. I have decided to stop wearing the trinket necklace she gave me. It hurts too much to look at. I have also put away the little gargoyle she gave me that she dubbed "Rain". All the pictures I have of her that aren't on MySpace are put away and hidden. It's bad enough I carry this rose. I will never heal from this wound. The sad truth is, I don't really know if I want to.
And sometimes, sometimes I wanna be I scream that I wanna be Anyone but me
I am screaming louder than I ever have, it's just no one can hear me. I don't want to be me. Not anymore. The person I am is a joke.
What do you want me to say All I know is love -- it's okay I'll write what I know And you do the same Tell me I'm sane.
I am going to fix all I can, slowly. I will be spending more time finding me and what I have lost. I look around at my little knick-nacks and realise that I am a good person. I am worth fixing. I am worth saving. I am going to love and find love again. I am going to be me. I am going to fly.
And sometimes, sometimes I wanna be I scream that I wanna be Anyone but me
Here and now I stop screaming. I want to be me. The joke's on
My Husband My first piece of fiction written for myself to be released to the public in exactly one year. It's experimental. Be gentle if you're going to review it.
I remember a few years ago when my husband and I transitioned our son, Sawyer, into a big-boy bed, he refused to nap alone. We explained that we couldn't sleep with him; three was no room for anyone other than him in his bed. Of course, he found a loophole. “Sleep next to my bed,” he said. “There's room on my rug.” Except he kept peeking over his guardrail to giggle at the sight of us.”Use my blanket and build a tent and you lie under it on the rug,,” he said, “so I don't see you.” From our hideout in the tent, we kept still, listening to our little boy rustling like a safari cub.
When Sawyer's breath began to ebb and flow more evenly, I plotted our escape in my mind, then blurted out too loud. “Uh oh.” Sawyer stirred. I whispered the problem into Geoffrey's ear. “I left my glasses on his nightstand.” Geoffry ducked out to rescue my specs. Sawyer rolled over on his pillow, sighed, and smacked his. Geoffry barely made it back to the tent without waking him. If we tried to leave now, we'd risk Sawyer's hearing the creak of the floorboards, the doorknob's click, our dog panting in the hallway.
We didn't dare. We stayed put. Strewn about the rug, the whole Crayola rainbow, plastic dinosaurs, and hardened crumbs of Play-Doh. Along the rug's perimeter, Sawyer lined up an assortment of toy cars that belonged to my husband when he was a boy. Geoffry plucked a tiny metal wagon from the lot and whispered in my ear, “I used to put a peanut in this one.” He hitched it to an old fashioned yellow car and towed it over my shoulder, tickling me slightly. He put his hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh. I heard a crayon break under the weight of my back. But Sawyer was breathing deeply now, having drifted into the peaceable hum of sleep.
I thought we would reedy ourselves to leave. Instead, Geoffry picked up the stubby end of a green crayon and a ragged piece of construction paper. He drew a hangman hook and the dotted lines of a secret message. I grinned. Geoffrey rolled the crayon toward me so that I could use it to guess a letter. Then I rolled it back to him. I got the first few wrong. One by one, Geoffry drew a head, a long center line for the body, both legs and a foot. He had the same smirk on his face as when he beats me at tennis-- not at all sorry.
“Give up?” he mouthed then filled in the puzzle. You are my sunshine. With the length of my arm I swept away the mess and snuggled in close to kiss him.
Today I found myself in a different position.
“Is that your husband?” The ER nurse said pointing to him, as he lay there the fever-spiked lump who was snoring softly and muttering beside me. We had been in the hospital for hours. For every one of those hours I have returned my lips over and over to his scalding forehead, as if to cool it. In reality I was simply trying to comfort myself. Just a few more hours from the time the nurse asked me that question, I will find out that his cancer was too severe. They would make him comfortable and I would sit by his side and hold your hand as he drifted off. .
But at that very moment the nurse's face was creased with compassion and weariness-- she, like me, is waiting. That moment was not the right time to tell her about my husband's gentle strength. I wanted to tell her about about how he would rock Sawyer in his crib for hours on end while he graded papers, or how he did the same three years later but while he balanced family life with going back to school. My memories are filled with nights of coming into my husband's study to find him with Sawyer or Madison asleep on his chest and he was passed out himself with some silly infomercial playing on the television.
It was not the right moment to explain what a funny contradiction my husband was. While I was sure she would not mind hearing, it was not the appropriate time. I wanted to tell her about my hockey-playing message therapist husband. One moment he'd be on the ice and cross checking some guy into the glass, then he'd be giving the guy a back rub after the game. Just one week before we came to the hospital, he took a day to help his best friend's dad in the hospice.
The nurse would not understand about the bedtime coupons you gave me last mother's day. He was a night owl and I would redeem them making him turn in early when I didn't want to fall asleep alone. I doubted the nurse would know what if feels like to wake up and come down into our kitchen and be greeted to it being warm and toasty because my husband had already lit a fire in the wood burning stove.
The nurse had no clue that at that precise moment I was strangely euphoric as I sat there and thought about everything. I thought about all the memories. I thought about how lucky I was to have so much to lose – my rock, my mystery, the love of my life. I thought about one key phrase that changed my life forever – in sickness and in health. I will, I thought, I do.
In that moment, all I could say was yes. “Yes, that's my husband.”
2) What book do you own the most copies of? Vampire: The Requiem by Justin Achilli
3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions? Oh yeah it does. 4) What fictional character are you secretly in love with? Ian Malcom from Jurassic Park. I want to have his babies. 5) What book have you read the most times in your life? The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger 6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old? Where the Red Fern Grows
7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year? Confederacy of Dunces
8) What is the best book you've read in the past year? Angels and Demons by Dan Brown 9) If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be? There are too many great books.... But I would have to say Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre Dame or The Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelly. 10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for literature? Anyone but Stephanie Meyer 11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie? Most of the books I love are already films, but I would have to say that When Pride Still Mattered. 12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie? State of Fear by Michael Crichton... Could be too political. 13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character. I dreamed I skull fucked Stephanie Meyer to death the other night. 14) What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult? The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pick Up Artists by Neil Strauss
15) What is the most difficult book you've ever read? Out of Chaos by Louis Halle
16) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen? King Lear
17) Do you prefer the French or the Russians? The French... Gotta love the Romantics
18) Roth or Updike? Roth
19) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers? Sedaris
20) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer? Shakespeare 21) Austen or Eliot? Eliot 22) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading? That year and a half after high school in which I only read comic books.
23) What is your favorite novel? The Catcher in the Rye by Salinger 24) Play? Bang Bang You're Dead 25) Poem? Little Boy Blue 26) Essay? Anything by John Locke or Henry David Thoreau 27) Short story? The Body or 1408 by Stephen King 28) Work of non-fiction? Andy Kaufman Revealed by Bob Zmuda 29) Who is your favorite writer? Frank Miller 30) Who is the most overrated writer alive today? Stephanie Meyer or Neil Strauss 31) What is your desert island book? The Catchere in the Rye
32) And ... what are you reading right now? The Boy In The Striped Pajamas
I Can't Stant to See You This Way (A REPRISE) My last entry seemed to get a good bit of attention on my MySpace page. In fact I find it funny, but I should let what I wrote be seen here on LiveJournal so there are no questions that can be asked.
Bitter Serenade attempted to post a comment here that I declined. Before he flies off the handle, I should explain. I did not allow the comment because it named names and gave way too much details for a public forum. Given that I am attempting to take my own advice, I am not going to allow it to be seen since it will inevitably start crap. I don't want that to happen.
Now he did have some advice for me that I have taken to heart and if he wishes to discuss it, he can contact me privately.
Here and now my involvement stops. I will not discuss it again unless it's with the people who are DIRECTLY involved or Bitter Serenade. That's it. There will be no further comment from me as to this issue. As far as I am concerned it's over and done with.
In short, Jake's not speaking anymore about the issue. What I have left to say will remain unsaid until my journals are published after I am dead and gone. Oh and BTW (for those of you who have my keyword) I used a different keyword and encryption method to code that and that solution will not be revealed by me.
I am also formally apologising for my involvement and for any feelings I may have hurt. I am not apologising for what I have written. Neither God nor man is going to tell me what to write, and I will never be made to feel sorry for anything that I have written. I am sorry if people were hurt however. Let me clearly state that there comes a point in every person's life when they feel that they have to speak up on an issue. In fact this point comes up more than once on multiple issues. I reached mine.
Enough said from me. If the rest of you want to comment about it, fine. If you want to discuss it, fine. Don't talk to me about it and don't use my blogs to talk about it. I AM DONE.
It should be noted that recently my loyalty has come into question. Let me state it here and now, I am loyal to those who have earned my loyalty and no one else. To question my loyalty is to allow me to question as to whether or not those who question it are deserving of it. That being said, you (and you know who you are) have lost my loyalty, and before you whine and say that you never had it, you effin' did and you fuckin' know it.
Rumours and drama are the status quo of any social circle. "Female A" spends time around "Alpha Male Type C" and suddenly they're dating because that's just how the rumour mill works regardless of what the truth actually is. "Female Omega" sleeps with "Boyish Charm Male Omericon" and then casually flirsts with "Douchebag Don Male Q" and "Limping Athletic Male Betsy" and suddenly "Female Omega" is now a whore. Guess what? That's how the shit happens. Don't like it? Remove yourself from the anthropologic society (meaning life) because no matter where you go it's always going to be like that.
Take for example my social circle, a group of people that I am undyingly loyal to, there is a girl who is something of a drifter among the minor cliques among the larger sphere of freiends. If one were to produce a venn diagram of the clicks of our group, this girl (let's call her Red Queen) would be in the very center, meaning every smaller circle claims her as one of their own. I consider myself to be a part of this overlap. Anyway, Red Queen provides attention to each clique as she can, but she obviously has a favoured circle (as it stands to reason since it's composed of people she knew from her high school days). Due to outside circumstances Red Queen had to disappear for reasons that are entirely her majesty's own, but in recent months she returned.
Upon her return she took her rightful place in the center of the social groups dynamics; not because she feels it was her rightful place, but it was where her outgoing and gregarious personality dictated she go. In short, she had no choice in the matter, the fates decided to put her there. It's not her fault she's awesome, it's God's.
A differing girl, we'll call her "Dancing Queen" for the sake of her protection (see, I could have used her real name but I am so loyal that I didn't...) was something like Red Queen priort to Red Queen's arrival. Dancing Queen, when all is said and done, has a great personality and can be a great person to be around. That said, Dancing Queen and Red Queen butted heads because of things that Dancing Queen had said, done, and or incinuated. Red Queen took up the defense of her friends and then all out war broke out, or at least that's what Dancing Queen will allege.
Now I don't quite know how to be non biased with this as I have heard both sides of the issue and have put together what I can only assume is my own version of the truth. In my opinion both sides have their legitimate gripes. Drama happens in every group. Lies were told and truths stretched (yes there is a difference). It is not my place to say who is wrong. I see both sides of the issue.
My issue here is my loyalty being questioned. When I called you, Dancing Queen, I was legitimately trying to see if you were okay. I do care about you. For your information, up until this point in my life if I were ever asked to choose one friend over another I would choose niether because to be forced to make a choice of that magnitude is just fucking wrong. Now things have changed. You stated that "i guess now i know for a fact, you would choose her if anyone asked you to." I wouldn't have chosen either of you. Now I do choose her because rather than talking to me about the situation, you chose to air out your dirty laundry in a public forum. I didn't betray you. You betrayed me.
If I would have found something like what you had written about her that referenced you or even called you out, I would have come to you as I did with Red Queen. As it stood, you both had my loyalty. I have trusted both of you. I give everyone the equality they deserve. I pray that you would have done the same for me, but now, like you, I know the truth. What you had written (both about me and her) didn't need to be written in a public forum. I might suggest that you write such things and post them privately or if that isn't good enough for you, get yourself a pen and a notebook and write it there. That's what I do, and guess what, that's what everyone else does too. There are thoughts you share with the world and then there are thoughts you never let see the light of day. I have told you that before, it seems you don't want to heed the warning.
I only interject when I am concerned. I was concerned about you when I called you Dancing Queen. I was concerned each and every time I pulled you aside and had a heart to heart with you. Now I am done.
Red Queen has never questioned my loyalty. She's been there when others, including my own girlfriend, has not. She's protected me when she knew I was wrong. She has my loyalty. Did you know that she came from her house to mine at 2:30 AM because she was worried about me? She's called me at 4AM because she thought something was wrong. That's what friendship is. I would gladly do that for her in a heartbeat. Until today, I would have done the same for you.
You say that Red Queen chased you away from your friends? That's an outright lie. She didn't chase you away. Your own behaviours chased you away. Your duplicity caught up with you. She just pointed it out. You feel betrayed by me? I point you in the direction of Harold Philby. In order for me to have betrayed you, I would have had to had belonged with you. Your choices chased you away. Phones work two ways. I have been the one pursuing a friendship with you not the other way. How many times have we talked since you were "chased away?" How many times were because you called me?
When one chooses to cut themselves off from people, they then forefit all rights to gripe when they are "out of the loop." Trust me when I say that, because I have done that shit to myself. If it weren't for people like Red Queen in my life, then I would have done it again with this very social circle.
I am sorry for whatever I may or may not have done. I am sorry that I had to chose between two Queens. I choose the Rew Queen. I choose someone who has been there. I choose someone who knows what it means to be a friend. I choose someone who has the capacity to identify their own faults and then fix them all the while accepting responsibility for their own actions.
Until you can honestly say that you fit all that criteria, you no longer have my loyalty.
Godspeed to you.
"This world will never be what I expected and if I don't belong, who would have guessed it?"
The Voice Post I tried the voice post and failed miserably. The transcription was from my good friend Kyle and it's funny. It's not me. I will do a real voice post this week.
“I chose Walt Whitman for my biography report because Mr. Farlow said that if I wasn't going to take this class seriously and pick a real poet I might as well not come to class anymore. Walt Whitman was an awful child molester who was born in ancient Hong Kong. He is over 3,000 years old and remembers the names of all the forgotten Gods.
Walt Whitman is 90 stories tall, and his adventures are legendary. With his blue Ox, Emily Dickenson, Walt Whitman traveled across young America and helped the nation grow into the angry powerhouse it is today. He dropped his mighty axe, forming the Grand Canyon; the apple cores he would spit from his mighty mouth planted apples trees all across the country, and the stomp of his mighty boot caused the stock market to crash. He and his friend, Huck Finn, traveled down the Mississippi river and freed the slaves. Walt Whitman believed that the only good Chinaman was a dead Chinaman, so he went to Tiananmen Square and gave them all candy. Except instead of candy he killed them.
Walt Whitman's might seem like a really cool guy but in reality he's a whiny ass pussy. His Livejournal, which he doesn't think anyone knows about is full of whiny goth poetry. His Current Mood is always "Apathetic" and his music is always some obscure punk band that no one has ever heard of. Some people who pretended to be his friend so they could get access to his "friends only" posts grabbed some of his poetry and made a book from them, and called it "Ode to Faggotry." When they found other goth kids would actually read it, they changed the name to "Leaves of Grass" and it sold like gothcakes. Walt Whitman to this day doesn't know they're selling his poems and making a fortune off him. They still don't invite him to any parties though, because no one likes him.
Walt Whitman died a lonely man in Walt Disney Land. He was on the gondola ride, and he fell out because he wasn't fastened properly to the restraint. Thanks to his dumb ass, now none of us can ride it anymore. Thanks a lot Walt Whitman.”
It never ceases to amaze me how fast I run through emotions. Thankfully I am used to such roller-coaster rides and can be prepared for such things, but it certainly doesn't stop me from being amazed.
Take this week for example.
First off, things between Alice and I are not good. Frankly put, they're actually beyond repair. For the first time in any relationship I have ever been in, I don't believe that even communication can help. We just seem to upset each other to our absolute core. We both are exhibiting behaviours that leave much to be desired. I, admittedly, am being slightly duplicitious with her and not giving her the benefit of the doubt. This is something that I need to acknowledge. She does things that just get under my skin and then she wonders why I become angry and upset. I have talked to people about the situation and tried to be as honest as possible with the whole thing and they all tell me that I am justified in being upset with her to the point breaking up with her being the rational option. In fact, one of my friends has actually told me that until I "do what's best for me," she won't listen to me gripe anymore about my relationship. Fair enough I guess.
I am trying with Alice. I really am. I want nothing but the best for her, but I am really starting to question as to whether or not she represents what is best for me. The past two Friday nights, my phone had to be taken away from me and turned off. I literally mean taken from me. There was some kind of drama each night and I begged her to let me go before I would say or do something that I would later regret. She wouldn't let me go. Now I am sure you're all saying "why doesn't the bastard just hang up the phone on her?" There's a simple reason I don't do that, I am too nice and I cannot stand it when it's done to me. So I take the shit. Hell, just ask Windi about that. I think I went for a personal record in taking shit on the phone with her. Frick, I even called her back several times after she hung up on me so she can give me more shit. Now that's dedication (or despiration; six one way, half dozen the other).
But yeah, my phone gets taken away from me twice in two weeks because of the same person and nearly the same bullshit. This is on top of several other offenses, one I will not discuss here but simply say that it's something that I will never forget about and certainly never forgive her for.
So with all that, and keep in mind that this is just from one source (there's more coming), what's the logical solution to this problem? Survey says? >DING< Break up with her. That's the most common answer I get to the question. Here's why I cannot do it. One, it's all I have right now and the only thing I will be able to get (poor attention is better than no attention). Two, she's already having a hard time coping with reality and her own psychological issues and I cannot with a good conscience allow myself to see that pile of shit and willingly add more to it.
So I sit in the shit with her or leave. Either way, it plays out like this:
I am torn. Sometimes when you win, you lose.
Now onto the other stuff. I bet you're wondering why there's a video of the Fray's How to Save a Live posted at the top of this entry. Simply put that song reminds me of Katy. I was listening to it the other day, I mean actually listening to it, and it hit me. The lyrics of the song perfectly show what happened between her and I. Originally, the song was used as a launching pad for my short story Stayed Up WIth You All Night. After all the title of the story itself was stolen from a line within the song. Now it's something more. The song tugs at me and actually makes me weep.
Like you Alicia, I don't cry very often as it takes a lot to warrant tears from me. This song makes me weep.
Please allow me to be a bitter and mean jerk for a mooment and say that I sincerely hope that when Katy hears this song she remembers me and remembers that she abandoned one of the best friends she could possible have when I needed her most. On the other side of the coiin, I hope when she hears the song she stops for a moment and remembers the night by the fire in which she fell asleep in my arms.
I pray that she never has to turn the song off because it holds too many rough memories for her. If that happens, I pray that someone is there for her and wraps his arms around her and dances with her while whispering five simple words into her ear. "Let's create a new memory." I hope she finds happiness.
Sometimes when you win, you lose.
While I was searching an old disk of pictures, I came across a file that Katy sent to me a long time ago. It's a poem she had written before she met me that she wanted my honest opinion of. I read it and told her it was good. Today I look at the poem and realise that it now applies more to me than it ever did to her.
Think I'm drowning help me sink How does it go again? Let me think I left the infirmary quite some time ago, But I left them back there. Where did it go? Where can it be? Where did I put my sanity? I've forgotten a many things, but not as much as you. I found it all wrapped up in a gift box, somewhere far away from here, But when I went to reach for it, It disappeared just like you Slipped through my fingers where did it go? I'll be searching a lifetime in the dark Hope you take good care of it it was quite dear you see, But all I really wanted... Was for you to remember me.. --(c) Katy DeHay
How can someone who can capture such emotion with words when their strength is the visual arts and then turn around and cause someone who loves them dearly to feel them? I don't understand.
Sometimes when you win, you lose.
Look for a voice post from me sometime by the end of the weekend in which I will discuss a nightmare and why I am not going out of town this week.
So I felt wierdness coming on and I suddenly remembered what kind of trouble I got into with good ol Babinox and Habbo Hotel. So I decided to hop into a Yahoo Messenger chat room and have some fun... Here are the results
Keep in mind that I used my actual screenname and decided to have a lot of fun at other's expense. The materail is highly sexual and very fucking funny. The other screennames have been chhanged....
Enjoy
The Tale of the Vegetable Woman rogue_storyteller: Wanna cyber? MommyMelissa: Sure, you into vegetables? rogue_storyteller: What like gardening an s**t? MommyMelissa: Yeah, something like that. rogue_storyteller: Nuthin turns me on more, check this out rogue_storyteller: You bend over to harvest your radishes. (pause) MommyMelissa: is that it? rogue_storyteller: You water your tomato patch. rogue_storyteller: Are you ready for my fresh produce? MommyMelissa: I was thinking of like, sexual acts INVOLVING vegetables... Can you make it a little more sexy for me? (pause) rogue_storyteller: I touch you on your lettuce, you massage my spinach... Sexily. rogue_storyteller: I ride your buttocks, like they were amber waves of grains. MommyMelissa: Grain doesn't really turn me on... I was thinking more along the lines of carrots and zucchinis. rogue_storyteller: my zucchinis carresses your carrots. rogue_storyteller: Damn baby your right, this s**t is HOT. MommyMelissa: ... rogue_storyteller: My turnips listen for the soft cry of your love. My insides turn to celery as I unleash my warm and sticky cauliflower of love. MommyMelissa: What the f**k is this madlibs? I'm outta here. rogue_storyteller: Yah, well I already unleashed my cauliflower, all over your olives, and up in your eyes. Now you can't see. B**ch. MommyMelissa: whatever.
The Pizza Delivery Guy rogue_storyteller: Wanna cyber? DirtyKate: K, but don't tell anybody ;-) DirtyKate: Who are you? rogue_storyteller: I've got blond hair, blue eyes, I work out a lot rogue_storyteller: And I have a part time job delivering for Papa John's in my Geo Storm. DirtyKate: You sound sexy.. I bet you want me in the back of your car.. rogue_storyteller: Maybe some other time. You should call up Papa John's and make an order DirtyKate: Haha! OK DirtyKate: Hello! I'd like an extra-EXTRA large pizza just dripping with sauce. rogue_storyteller: Well, first they would say, "Hello, this is Papa John's, how may I help you", then they tell you the specials, and then you would make your order. So that's an X-Large. What toppings do you want? DirtyKate: I want everything, baby! rogue_storyteller: Is this a delivery? DirtyKate: Umm...Yes DirtyKate: So you're bringing the pizza to my house now? Cause I'm home alone... and I think I'll take a shower... rogue_storyteller: Good. It will take about fifteen minutes to cook, and then I'll drive to your house. **pause exactly fifteen minutes** DirtyKate:I'm almost finished with my shower... Hurry up! rogue_storyteller: You can't hurry good pizza. rogue_storyteller: I'm on my way now though **pause** DirtyKate: So you're at my front door now. rogue_storyteller: How did you know? rogue_storyteller: I knock but you can't hear me cause you're in the shower. So I let myself in, and walk inside. I put the pizza down on your coffee table. rogue_storyteller: Are you ready to get nasty, baby? I'm as hot as a pizza oven DirtyKate: ooohh yeah. I step out of the shower and I'm all wet and cold. Warm me up baby rogue_storyteller: So you're still in the bathroom? DirtyKate: Yeah, I'm wrapping a towel around myself. rogue_storyteller: I can no longer resist the pizza. I open the box and unzip my pants with my other hand. As I penetrate the gooey cheese, I moan in ecstacy. The mushrooms and Italian sausage are rough, but the sauce is deliciously soothing. I blow my load in seconds. As you leave the bathroom, I exit through the front door.... DirtyKate: What the fuck? DirtyKate: You perverted piece of s**t DirtyKate: F**k
My Magic Missile rogue_storyteller: Baby, I been havin a tough night so treat me nice aight? BritneySpears14: Aight. rogue_storyteller: Slip out of those pants baby, yeah. BritneySpears14: I slip out of my pants, just for you, rogue_storyteller. rogue_storyteller: Oh yeah, aight. Aight, I put on my robe and wizard hat. BritneySpears14: Oh, I like to play dress up. rogue_storyteller: Me too baby. BritneySpears14: I kiss you softly on your chest. rogue_storyteller: I cast Lvl 3 Eroticism. You turn into a real beautiful woman. BritneySpears14: Hey... rogue_storyteller: I meditate to regain my mana, before casting Lvl 8 Penis of the Infinite. BritneySpears14: Funny I still don't see it. rogue_storyteller: I spend my mana reserves to cast Mighty of the Beyondness. BritneySpears14: You are the worst cyber partner ever. This is ridiculous. rogue_storyteller: Don't f**k with me biznitch, I'm the mightiest sorcerer of the lands. rogue_storyteller: I steal yo soul and cast Lightning Lvl 1,000,000 Your body explodes into a fine bloody mist, because you are only a Lvl 2 Druid. BritneySpears14: Don't ever message me again you piece. rogue_storyteller: Robots are trying to drill my brain but my lightning shield inflicts DOA attack, leaving the robots as flaming piles of metal. rogue_storyteller: King Arthur congratulates me for destroying Dr. Robotnik's evil army of Robot Socialist Republics. The cold war ends. Reagan steals my accomplishments and makes like it was cause of him. rogue_storyteller: You still there baby? I think it's getting hard now. rogue_storyteller: Baby?
The Rhino rogue_storyteller: Ok baby, we got to hurry, I don't know how long I can keep it ready for you. j_gurli13: thats ok. ok i'm a japanese schoolgirl, what r u. rogue_storyteller: A Rhinocerus. Well, hung like one, thats for sure. j_gurli13: haha, ok lets go. j_gurli13: i put my hand through ur hair, and kiss u on the neck. rogue_storyteller: I stomp the ground, and snort, to alert you that you are in my breeding territory. j_gurli13: haha, ok, u know that turns me on. j_gurli13: i start unbuttoning ur shirt. rogue_storyteller: Rhinoceruses don't wear shirts. j_gurli13: No, ur not really a Rhinocerus silly, it's just part of the game. rogue_storyteller: Rhinoceruses don't play games. They f**king charge your ass. j_gurli13: stop, cmon be serious. rogue_storyteller: It doesn't get any more serious than a Rhinocerus about to charge your ass. rogue_storyteller: I stomp my feet, the dust stirs around my tough skinned feet. j_gurli13: thats it. rogue_storyteller: Nostrils flaring, I lower my head. My horn, like some phallic symbol of my potent virility, is the last thing you see as skulls collide and mine remains the victor. You are now a bloody red ragdoll suspended in the air on my mighty horn. rogue_storyteller: F**k am I hard now.
The Game Over BritneySpears14: Ok, are you ready? rogue_storyteller: Aight, yeah I'm ready. BritneySpears14: I like your stories Rogue... Tee hee. rogue_storyteller: huh huh, yeah, I make it for the ladies. BritneySpears14: Mmm, we like it a lot. Let me show you. BritneySpears14: I take off your pants, slowly, and massage your muscular physique. rogue_storyteller: Oh I like that Baby. I put on my robe and wizard hat. BritneySpears14: What the f**k, I told you not to message me again. rogue_storyteller: Oh s**t BritneySpears14: I swear if you do it one more time I'm gonna report your ISP and say you were sending me kiddie porn you f((k up. rogue_storyteller: Oh s((t rogue_storyteller: damn I gotta write down your names or something
That's the end of it. I hope you enjoyed it. I know I did.
The first five people to respond to this post will get something made by me. It will be about or tailored to those five lucky "victims."
This offer does have some restrictions and limitations: - I make no guarantees that you will like what I make! - what I create will be just for you. - it'll be done this year - you have no clue what it's going to be. It may be a poem or story. I may make something all craft-y like. - I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.
The catch? Oh, the catch is that you have to put this in your journal as well, if you expect me to do something for you!
If it's a physical good and you're someone I don't often see, I'll need your mailing address.
I don't know how I have come to this point. I have lost all faith in the world and myself. More so myself. I don't know who it is I see when I look into the mirror. I feel as if I am falling deeper into a depression that I doubt that I will never be able to crawl out of. It's quite bothersome for me. The line that separates Lucien and Jake is becoming thinner and thinner. I am getting lost in the battle for dominance.
For example, I lost my ring for two hours this morning. You all know what that means.
I just want to disappear and not come out for about a month. It's rather awful feeling like this. I hate being out of control. This is what cost me Katy.
I want to thank you for caring. You know who I am referring to.
Until Next Time,
~J Alfred Potter The Rogue Storyteller
Current Mood: lost Current Music:"Hot N Cold" by Katy Perry
When people tell you that the ever popular concept of the "kissing in the rain" moment is a fallacy, ignore them. They're wrong. It's a real moment that doesn't often come. To be honest, it hasn't come to me yet, but I know it's coming.
So last time I wrote I said that I will tell you all about an instance in my life that I would change. You might think that I am taking the easy way out by doing this, but just go with it. I wouldn't change anything at all. I wouldn't change my father leaving, my mother's alcoholism, any death in my family. Each one of those things has made me who I am.
So yeah, call it a cop out.
Here's a list of my blog titles:
I'm Just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song.
Through broken walls, that scream I hear.
After my picture fades and darkness has turned to grey.
I've drawn regret from the truth of a thousand lies.
Everyone is forgiven now.
Just one breath, just in case there's just one left.
You bleed just to know you're alive.
Here I am again in the middle of the end.
It's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.
It's so hard to take this hurt and hide it on a shelf.
I'd like to tell my story before I turn to gold.
Between the lines of fear and blame.
Beyond the door, there's peace I'm sure.
Those northern lights open my mind.
Your eyes are blind but you see more than I.
So test your music knowledge and try to guess the songs and the artists these lines come from. Whoever can get the most right gets a prize. No using Google and remember that I post blogs bother here and on MySpace.
Until Next Time,
~J Alfred Potter The Rogue Storyteller
Current Mood: bored Current Music:"Higher" by Creed
Looking back I clearly see what it is that's killing me.
So when life tosses you a curve ball you should be able to hit it right? Especially if you know it's coming and know exactly what part of the plate it's coming over, right?
Frackin' wrong.
Aside from being called the iHop, iLean, Hopalong, Speedy, Twinkletoes, and Susan, I am now being called Murphy's Law survivor. This is being done despite it was Katy who first dubbed me with that name back in July of 2008. The past six or so months have just proven to be quite weird.
First off back in late September, I screwed up with my mother and totally forgot when she was having an eye surgery and just neglected to be there when she needed me. She, as could be expected, was pissed to say the absolute least and had some words for me. We got into an argument and she said some things that she now regrets and I reacted in kind. This lead me to being kicked out of her house for about two weeks.
Thankfully I have friends who are obnoxiously nice and wouldn't let me stay out on the street like I was prepared to do. So Thomas and his lovely girlfriend, Victoria (who consequentially is the only woman other than Windi to scare the everliving crap out of me and she has yet to set me ablaze), took me in for about two weeks until my other dear friends, Tracie and Brian, told me I could move in with them.
So in short, I moved in with Tracie and Brian on October first. Ten days later I found myself returning to Thomas and Victoria's for my epic 25th birthday party. A bunch of friends came down from Lafayette, including but not limited to Babinox, and Tri Chi. The rest of the party goers were people whom I play a Vampire: the Masquerade live action RPG with on Saturday nights (yeah I know, I have become a dirty LARPer, what's it to ya? PHYSICAL CHALLENGE!!!). The main attraction of the party besides my beautiful hair was the fact that there was a roast in my honour.
I can honestly say between Babinox being purposely un-funny and me being physically forced into women's clothing, it was a good night. I can say this, I have gotten under Victoria's skirt.... For pictures look in my albums on my MySpace page. Look for the Panic at the Disco lyric.
Before you ask, yes I am supposed to be looking rather gay with a guy who looks suprisingly like Jesus.
Oh yeah, before I end up chemically castrated, also on my birthday, I took my relationship with Alice to the next level. Let's just say that along with the quest XP the reward was a ring and the right to wear a white dress.
Which one of us will be wearing the dress? Tune in next week...
Between then and now very little actually happened. I will be going back to school during this calendar year as I have finally gotten all the funding together so I can make something of myself. I also lost a major job opportunity because of a very loose association with a registered sex offender. There's a story behind that...
So my roommates introduce me to some friends of them. We we call them “Aaron” and “Justin” for now. Those aren't their real names, as those are not important for my purposes here. They're a relatively young gay couple with “Aaron” being from somewhere between New Orleans and Michigan and New Jersey and San Diego. “Aaron” fit the stereotypical description of the quintessential overly gay drag queen pretender. “Justin” was a guy you could be totally surprised to find out was gay. Then he would open his mouth and reveal his sexual preferences and then reveal that bowling balls coated in astroglide are sharper than he is. Anyway, these guys are nice at first, then the drama happens. First it's revealed to us that “Aaron” wouldn't know what fidelity is if it came up and slapped him in the mouth with it's used tampon and “Justin's” ability to resist a beer is similar to a drugged Mormon girl's ability to keep her panties on in a full of drunk jocks after prom. It's just not going to happen. Needless to say they had issues, but what do you expect they're two gay men under the age of 23. I guess I should have mentioned that earlier.
I am digressing. “Aaron” comes by the apartment to talk to Tracie about some pagan thing that he took a false interest in once he learned that Tracie's got rather unorthodox beliefs and because of my relationship with Windi, I know more about paganism than your average Catholic school graduate. He was waving around his wallet and his identification card fell out. Tracie picked it up and casually glanced at the picture because it's fun to rip on people because of their awful ID pictures. Well, Tracie didn't know what to do when her eyes were instantly drawn to the large red letters beneath the picture reading 'SEX OFFENDER'. Raising an eyebrow as she hands it back, “Aaron” told her that it was a long story and it boiled down to him being a total monster when he was thirteen.
This intrigued Tracie. A few hours later Tracie had all the research she needed. Back when he was 13 or so, “Aaron” convinced a 11 year old girl and 12 year old boy to have sex while he watched and serviced himself. As if that weren't bad enough, he wasn't done. He then had intercourse with three boys between the ages of 7 and 10 years old. I am not making this stuff up, it's a matter of public record in the state of California. Because of this “Aaron” was no longer welcome in our home and I had to report this to the individuals who were contemplating hiring me as it was important for them to know since the job involves kids. “Justin” took it upon himself to defend his boyfriend and not look at the side of logic. Because of the stance Tracie and I took, we instantly became the enemy and thusly could be, as he put it, “bumped off:”
Their tale quickly resolved itself shortly after an impromptu move to Mississippi and “Aaron” getting arrested on Christmas Day for shoplifting. I also have it on authority that the detective in charge of his case in regards to his status as a sex offender has been made aware of the threats from his boyfriend and the fact that “Aaron” has not followed any of the proper procedures that a sex offender must in order to keep his or her freedom. I guess karma's a bitch..
By the way, my hands are totally clean of all of that.
I have a new group of friends that I have been hanging out with on a regular basis. This is nice. It took me a damned year, but I finally found them. I don't know what I would do without any of them. I am also thankful for Alice. She's a ray of pure sunshine in a world that is dark and grey. I mean that.
I still miss Katy dearly, but it's high time for me to move on. My dear friend Babinox told me that I should cherish each moment with her and not forget my mistakes, but I have punished myself enough for her. He politely and gently reminded me that no woman is worth the hell I was putting myself through. I am not giving up hope that we'll be friends again, but it will be on her time. I will still send her a letter every now and again. I just have to move on for me and be the best for me. If she wants to be a part of the Rogue Storyteller's timeline any more than she already has been, that's on her. She's more than welcome. I really mean that.
Also I have moved on from Windi. I still miss her. I love her still, but I think we can all agree it's hard to just turn your back on five years of a relationship. She's with a new man now who I believe she's too good for but she's happy, and that's all that effin' matters. Windi, if you're reading this congrats and my love and thoughts go with you both. You know I mean that.
It is a new year and I have some new goals for the year...
I want to achieve and maintain a 3.0 GPA while at UNO this year.
I will have 12 short stories written by the end of the year.
Roomies will be restarted this year with new material.
I will walk from Esplanade to Canal on my hands
A full season's worth (24 episodes) of Botched! will be written.
I will have 2 full length screenplays finished.
I want to have a screenplay sold and turned into a movie in time for the 2010 Oscars
I wish for a resolution of things with Katy.
I will have my V:tM character maxed out and have declared praxis by then.
I will have 4 new tattoos by the end of the year.
So here's to life tossing you a pitch you can hit. When you do get one you can hit, don't be a pussy and bunt, swing for the fences. It's better to hit a foul ball out of the park than ground out to the pitcher.
By the way, in case some of you haven't noticed, I have been using lyrics from songs as titles of these entries. If you can tell me the artist and song of the majority of the (and I mean numerical majority ie. 4 of seven) songs I will take you out to dinner. No using the Google.
Also here's my thought for the moment, if you could go back and change one moment in your life what would it be and why? Next time you get to hear mine.
Until Next Time,
~J Alfred Potter The Rogue Storyteller
Current Mood: bored Current Music:"It's My Life" by Bon Jovi
As always, it has been far too long since I have reported to you all. The past several weeks have been rather difficult for me. I lost my best friend, started drinking heavily again, got lost in an old addiction, attempted suicide, and spent several days in an asylum. I honestly wish I can say that I am okay, but unfortunately I am not. I have spent time really analyzing my life and myself and realised that I have to reveal more of myself. You see, even to those in my so-called inner circle much of me remains a mystery.
If one were to attempt to penetrate my soul through its thick, hard outer shell, if you could sound the depths of my twisted and splintered mind, or explore the shadowy interior of the opaque creature that I am, you would no doubt find it stunted and rickety, like the prisoners in the ancient dungeons of England who grew old bent double in a stone box too low to stand in and too short to lie in.
I scarcely feel withing myself the blind stirrings of a soul made in my own image. The impressions of external objects undergo considerable refraction before they reach my understanding. My brain twists all concepts which pass through it. I am thusly the victim of endless optical illusions and aberrations of judgment; my thoughts wander aimlessly, sometime mad, always idiotic.
The first effect of my deformities was to confuse the view I took of things. I received almost no immediate perceptions. The external world has always seemed farther away from me than it does to you you. The second, and more serious, effect was to make me malicious. I am malicious because I am ugly. My nature has it's logic as does yours. My seemingly extraordinary strength was a further cause of my maliciousness. Malus puer robustus as Hobbes says.
You must do me the justice of stating that my malice was perhaps not innate. From my earliest contact with mankind I was mocked, insulted, and rejected. Human speech for me was always either a jeer or a curse. As I grew up I found nothing but hatred around me; I had simply picked up the very weapon with which I had been wounded.
I therefore turned to mankind with only regret. My room was enough for me. It was peopled with books full of characters that looked at me with tranquility and benevolence. There were statues as well, those of hideous monsters and demons. These had no hatred for me- I resembled them too closely for that. It was the rest of the world they jeered at.
Through the malice that I mentioned earlier, I believe that's where my mind really split in two. Despite having feelings of malice, I was never really comfortable with it. As I grew, it became increasingly obvious that there was a part of me that seemed to truly enjoy malice. As those of you who know me will say, I am too nice for my own good. My split, as it is now clear to me, was an obvious result of my disability.
Each and every day in my life, I try to be a good person. This is something that I will never, ever give up on. With all the honesty possibly, I must say that the temptation to give into Lucien and his whims and desires is great- almost too great. I won't ever do it. I cannot. I know how much Katy was hurt by all of his shennanagins and I have promised myself that never again will I be the cause of anyone else's tears.
I have spent a great deal of time reflecting on my life and my accomplishments and lack there of. I have found that above all, failures plague me most. Things I have omitted or ignored plague me. I feel the biting pang of unfullfillment. Not only personal but in my work as well. The host of scripts that I have written which will do no one good and many harm. I could condone them once. Now in this stark unmaksing of my life, condoning is impossible, self-justifying is impossible. An infinitude of lacks reduced to one fundamental challenge: what I might have done and how irrevocably I fall short of almost every mark.
These thoughts pushed me into thinking about death. Death is a subject that is never far from my mind for too long. I, for some strange reason, take a certain solace in the thoughts of my own mortality. I once made a joke about being one short and curly away from suicide. I still think it's true but I am honestly no longer scared of death. I am simply too afraid to live. I have come to the conclusion that which I think becomes real. The thought is real, it's the physical that's the illusion.
Was that obscure?
Let me put it this way then. Does a man's existence change in any way when he takes off his coat? Neither does it change when death removes the coat of his body. He's still th same person. No wiser. No happier. No better off. Exactly the same.
Death, you see, is merely continuation at another level. If we only felt about death as we do about sleep all terrors would cease. Men sleep contentedly, assured that they will wake the following morning. They should feel the same about the end of their lives.
This might make you think that I am more suicidal than I claim to be. The fact remains that I am not. People think of suicide as a quick route to oblivion, an escape. It merely alters a person from one from to another. Nothing can destroy the spirit. Suicide only percipitates a darker continuation from which escape was sought.
Many claim that those who kill themselves are doomed to suffer through hell. Personally, I don't believe in the concept of hell that most of us have been force-fed by the Chruch at some point in our lives. Fire and brimstone mixed with an eternity of torture just doesn't seem realistic. I think the real hell is the realisation of our lives gone terribly wrong. Based on this, I feel my life is a literal hell on Earth. The way I see it, life only becomes hell when we realise things are wrong. The vast majority of us don't ever see our own consequences.
People in hell my not be guilty of sins which were, in any way, horrendous. Even a minor transgression takes on darker aspects when one is surrounded by those who have committed similar transgressions. Each person multiplies and amplifies the failures and delinquency of the others. They say misery loves company. It should be: misery in company grows ever worse.
There's no balance in hell. Everything is negative as this reverse animation feeds upon itself, creating more and more disorder. This is a level of extremes- and extremes of even a lesser nature can create a painful habitat. This is a rule that my life firmly proves.
In my personal hell, I see but not clearly. I hear yet it's as if sounds are still muffled. Understanding always seems a few scant inches from me. Things happen that I cannot quite grasp. I can never reach anything. Everything is beyond me. I feel angry for not seeing or hearing distinctly, or not understanding because I know it isn't me that's missing things Everything around me is vague and held those few inches from my understanding. I am being fooled somehow.
Things happen right in front of me and I seem them happen but I'm not sure I am seeing them even though it seems I am. There's always something more going on that I cannot figure out. There's something missing even thought I don't know I am missing it or why.
I keep trying to understand what's happening but I cannot. Even now, as I write, I feel as though I am missing something. I tell myself that I am all right and that everything around me is distorted. But, even as I'm thinking it, I get a premonition that it is me. That I am having a nervous breakdown but I cannot identify it because it's all too subtle and beyond my comprehension.
So with all this having been said, I give up. I quit; just not the way I you're all expecting me to. As tempting as it may be, suicide is not my option this time. I am done being the hero. I am done being gregarious. It's time for me to return to the way that I should have always remained-- alone. From here on out there is no more inner circle, there is no more doormat of Jake Potter. I don't need anyone anymore and I don't want anyone. This isn't me being selfish, I just don't want to hurt anyone again.
This is the last I have to say.
I want to give thanks now. I don't know what will happen. I pray that it will be as it once was, but now I doubt that's possible.
This is meant for everyone, but for Katy especially. I am thanking her for everything she's ever done for me. I fully believe that thoughts are real and forever. If she doesn't get my words now, she will in time.
Sometimes when all you have is old words you have to just rearrange them and hope you find a way to say something new.
Thank you for all the things you have done from the smallest to the largest.
Thank you for worrying about me and cheering me up when I needed it.
Thank you for your sense of humour. You made me laugh when I needed it and making me laugh when I neither needed not expected it.
Thank you for caring for me when I was ill.
Thank you for being someone I was always proud to be with.
Do you remember that December night when we went to the freakshow and saw the balloon trick? We went home and started a fire and you fell asleep in my arms. That was the night that actually inspired Stayed Up With You All Night. It was the night that I realised that I had fallen in love with you.
Thank you for giving me the example of your courage and strength.
Thank you for letting me be myself and dealing with me as I was, and not as you wanted me to be.
Thank you for your imagination and your spontaneity. Every moment with you was an adventure.
You reminded me thought your acts rather than words of the right thing to do. You taught me that sacrifice can be a positive and loving gesture.
Thank you for being my miracle.
I am sorry for all my failures.
Thank you Katy for gracing my life with yours. I honestly feel like I wasn't real until you became a part of me. I still pray that you will find it within yourself to forgive me and give me the opportunity to be the friend that you and I both know in our hearts that I can be.
In closing, it's time for me to fly off towards the second star on the right and straight on till morning and take my place at Peter's side with his lost boys. Quite honestly, I am looking forward to my journey. I wish nothing but the best for all of you.
I feel that it's time for me to come clean about everything. I am not the person that I build myself up to be. Some of you have learned that harsh reality lately, for that I am sorry. I suffer from what's called Dissociative Identity Disorder (or DID). At one time it was referred to Multiple Personality Disorder. Pyschologists of two minds on this disorder and whether or not it exists. Those of us that have been diagnosed with this find that little factoid to be rather ironic and funny as hell.
The sad truth is the condition is no laughing matter. I have been suffering from it for many years, but I wasn't officially diagnosed with it until this February or so. Up until then everyone just thought I was bipolar. I dealt with the issue through guided meditation and simple breathing exercises. Unfortunately, as time progressed, these methods success rate has dropped. Today I deal with it through intensive hypnotherapy, medication, and relaxation techniques. It's a battle, but as of late, I have been succeeding.
I write this now to give those of you in my life that matter to me (if you're reading this, I know who you are and yes, you do matter to me) full disclosure. When I thought I had control of my alter (whose name is Lucien) I was wrong.
For those interested, Lucien is someone that I cannot be. Most of you would describe me as a kind, caring, generous and honourable doormat of a guy. Lucien is the exact opposite. He's a liar, a manipulator, a cheat, mean, viscious and just pure evil. I don't quite know what caused my psyche to create him, but I know that he's around and there isn't much that can be done to silence him permanently as of right now.
Lucien, unlike me, cares not of his personal appearance. He hates to wear the glasses that I own, whether they be for reading or my sunglasses. And in case you were wondering, I don't actually need reading glasses, I just use them to make things easier on me (plus I end up looking better). Lucien also doesn't wear the jewelery that I can be usually seen wearing. A good indicator as to whether or not you're dealing with Lucien instead of me is to check for my class ring. If it's abesent, odds are you're dealing with Lucien. He hates Holy Cross with a passion and considers it a place for elitist assholes who "have nothing better to do than fix their cars and pretend to be members of a false aristocracy." His words, not mine.
Lucien likes to pretend to be me. Actually he's rather good at it, just ask Katy DeHay and Sary Clark. Two of the latest names on his long line of victims. He spent the last four months using my voice to lie to Katy about Sary and other people in my life. Being that he isn't as smart as he thinks he is, he totally got caught. Katy now wants nothing to do with me as it seems.
This is kind of why I am writing now. Lucien is not me. I don't lie to people. I don't manipulate. I don't play games with people's emotions. I have been victim to that and know how much it hurts and I would never allow myself to do any of that to anyone. It's just not me. I don't want to hurt anyone.
When Lucien has control, I literally black out. I have no knowledge of what he's doing or has done. Had I been aware of what was going on with Katy, I would have put an end to it. Those of you out there who truly know me know this to be true. Please note that I am not using my DID as a "get out of jail free" card, as someone very close to me has accused me of. I accept responsibility for every one of my actions whether they are really mine or not. I should have had more control and been paying better attention.
Katy, I am dreadfully sorry. It pains me to know what's been done. You know how I feel about you. You know what's real and what isn't. You don't know right now how to differentiate between Lucien and me, but I assure you that I am going to make this right. You don't have any reason to believe any word out of my mouth, and I fully understand that. I really do. I am simply asking you to have a tiny bit of faith in me. One shred of faith in me and that I am going to make this right. I will never allow anyone or anything to hurt you like this again. I swear it to you. If you don't believe me, contact Lex (Crib Midgets on MySpace), Gaston (the Gangster of Love on MySpace), Kelly (PennyRoyal on MySpace), or Windi. These are all people who know the real me and have actually lived with me. They are my closest friends and will tell you everything you want to know and will not let themselves be coached or manipulated by me or Lucien. You can really trust them.
I have been torturing myself over this whole thing. I am terrified of myself. If you all only knew of what thoughts have been going through my head. I am getting the help that I need. I am fixing all this. Please don't give up on me.
Katy, this last part is for you exclusively:
E tm yg yguus fgu whta hty htppinid. E aurls dg lgvi sgr. Tyk tnsaheno gf mi tnd ea's dgni. Ahi gnls aheno E well nga dg ey wtlk twts. Bgth sgr tnd E htvi biin ahugroh agg mrch uitl imgaegn tnd gahiu yarff ag jrya wtlk twts fugm itch gahiu ngw. E tm nga t mgnyaiu leki Lrcein ey. Sgu kngw ahta biaaiu ahen tnsgni. E bio gf sgu, plityi htvi t leaali fteah en mi.
Until Next Time,
~J Alfred Potter The Rogue Storyteller
Current Music:"Have A Little Faith in Me" by John Hiatt
And there's one poor child who saved this world And there's ten million more who probably would If we all just stopped and said a prayer for them.
Blink and a new day has dawned.
I am going to tell you a true story. It's not going to be a happy one, but it's an important story. I promise it will make you think. It may even inspire you. I sincerely hope it does. The fact of the matter is we all need to be inspired to act. Sometimes that inspiration comes early and we can use it. Other times, it comes too late and we cannot act. I can only hope and pray that I am writing this in time.
Six weeks ago, I met a young boy with spina bifida, the same disease that I am afflicted with. He is nine years old and has had 34 surgical operations. At nearly 25, I have only had about 17. This child, who from here out I am going to call "Timothy," had spent more time in hospitals than at his family's home. He had never attended school, yet he read at a sixth grade reading level and his math skills are that of a seventh grader. He knew the ins and outs of how to act around kids his own age, but that's only because books and television told him how. He had spent very little time around kids his own age.
His spine was doing the same thing mine is. I produce 75% more spinal fluid than the average human does. Timothy, produced 250% more. His own spine was killing him. His parents had told me that his doctors have given him less than twelve months to live. Timothy knew of this and, surprisingly, he wasn't scared. He was quite possibly the most courageous young man I have ever had the honour of meeting. I asked him how he can be so brave, he simply told me that "I don't have any other choice, I cannot change my body and if I could, I wouldn't want to."
That took me back. I spend so much time in denial of who I am and what I have that I forget how to live. Timothy hasn't cried about what's happening to him, despite his pain. He never asked why God chose him for this. He never blamed anyone. He simply attacked each day with a smile and a eagerness to live that inspired me.
Timothy died today from complications during a spinal surgery. I have spend about one day a week with him and his family since I met them and I had honestly began to feel like he was becoming a part of my life. I made an effort to let Timothy know that he was strong and brave, something that he already knew. I spent time with his mother and sister telling them that everything will be fine and Timothy's strength and courage will never be forgotten. I assured them that I would not rest until I I had told Timothy's story and made a serious effort to ensure that not another child will have to experience a moment of what Timothy did. This is a promise that I intend to keep.
Twenty four hours from now, 10,000 children in this country will be born with genetically caused birth defects. Thirty percent of them, even will all the advances in modern medicine, will not survive ten days. Of the remaining seven thousand, half are predicted to not make it to their tenth birthday. The remaining 3,500 will lead lives of pain and anguish.
Let's take this scenario into account. I will be making up the names and taking a lot into assumption, but it isn't far from what actually could and probably would happen.
Steve and Carol are a married couple in their late 20s. Both are healthy and fit. Carol gives birth tonite to her first child, Jessica. Jessica, at birth, is diagnosed with spina bifida occulta, a severe form of the genetic disease. Because of the nature of Occulta, there was a slight window of opportunity to catch it in prenatal care. A simple amniocentisis test would diagnose it. Here's the rub, Steve and Carol's insurance doesn't cover the test and they cannot afford it on their own, so both going under the assumption that their family histories are clean, the progress with the pregnancy. The trouble is spina bifida is a sleeper. It skips around generations and likes to mask itself. The fact is that doctors and scientists don't know much about spina bifida other than that it has some kind of link to folic acid intake during pregnancy.
Back to our story. Jessica has spina bifida from birth. After being brought into the world, she is immediately rushed into an emergency surgery to pull the skin over her spinal column. For the next 36 to 72 hours, baby Jessica will be sedated and in intensive care. Assuming she's born in a major metropolitan area, she has a 40 to 60% chance at surviving the next 72 hours. Thankfully by the grace of God, she does, but she's not out of the woodwork yet.
Tests indicate she has what's called hydrocephalus, meaning excess fluid on the brain. To keep the pressure from building up too much in her brain and thusly rendering her brain dead or worse, doctors now have to go into her and run a tube from the interior of her skull to her spine that will act as a canal for the excess fluid to circulate. Baby Jessica has now been alive 5 days and has had two major surgical operations. Her mother, 28 year old Carol, has yet to hold her first child in her arms. Steve, 27, has to sit back and watch as the two people he's now completely responsible for endure physical and emotional pain that will never completely heal. Both the parents are totally helpless. They have to trust total strangers with their child.
Back to our tale of Baby Jessica. She survives having the shunt put into her skull. The scope of her problems becomes more obvious as tests and imaging are done. During her fetal development, one of her kidneys and her left ovary never formed. On the same side the kidney is missing, the joints of her shoulder and elbow didn't from properly and may have to be reconstructed when she's older to work properly. To make matters worse. All the bones in her right leg formed, but no joints did. There is no knee or ankle joints. It's just solid bone mass. When she's older something would have to be done for her to walk, odds are it will have to be an amputation.
It's been ten days since Jessica's birth. She's a fighter and getting better. She still cannot be held by her mother and father. The bond that's formed between mother and child during the early days and weeks of life is crucial to development as a child grows. It's during those early days and weeks where we learn how to trust our parents. Steve and Carol have been arguing as well. They've been trying to figure out where the disease came from. Both parents outwardly blame each other for withholding information, yet they silently blame themselves. Steve fears he's already failed as a father because he cannot protect his little girl. Carol feels she's already failed as a mother because she cannot make her daughter feel better. Within the next three years, Steve and Carol will get a divorce due to this and the fact that no insurance company will touch their child and the resources of the Shriners' are running dry and government sponsored health care is unattainable for them because of their income bracket.
Jessica is one of the 35 per cent that will live a long life, but it won't be easy. Her parents will be divorced by the time she's five. Also by five she would have had 9 to 12 surgical operations and would likely be slightly mentally handicapped. She'll be forced to attend special schools where she will be around "kids like her." This will only cause her to go into a depression. If she's lucky she'll be one of the third of people suffering from depression that gets help, odds are she wont. Because of this, she'll probably attempt suicide once or twice by the time she's sixteen. Not only will she have to deal with the trials and tribulations of being an adolescent girl, but she'll have a disability on top of it. In short, baby Jessica will know more pain and sorrow than joy.
Now there's a chance I'm wrong, maybe I overdramatised it a bit. The statistics don't say so. What I have described is the average life of one of the lucky 35% of spina bifida patients. I know this to be true because I have seen it with my own eyes. Heck, I have lived it.
We can do something about this. We can help make sure stories like Timothy's or the fictional story of baby Jessica never have to be told again. I beg each one of you who is reading my words to do something. Contact your congressman and senator and say you want them to address the growing need to cure birth defects. Some say the greatest threat to the American family is same sex marriage. I say they're wrong. The greatest threat to the American family is birth defects. They can tear a family apart. Contact the Spina Bifida Association and inquire about how you can help.
Go to your local hospitals and spend some time with a sick child make them know you care and there are people out here willing to help. People with birth defects reading this, you're not alone. We can help you. You don't have to carry the cross of pain anymore. I would be happy to share it with all of you. I will not rest until I have done everything in my power to see that things have changed, but I cannot do it alone. Help me. Help me change this world.
I preach a message of love and hope. I mean every word of what I say. I beg each of you to take up arms with me and fight the world. Let's make it better. This is a country where we can do anything. We can be who we want and what we want. It's time we, as a nation, take it seriously. It's time we finally look at the world around us and realise there's more out there than ourselves. I extend my hand to each of you. Are you courageous enough to take it?
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rogue_hc_tiger's journal
I have become a total hermit again. It's been one month since I have gone out of my room and done anything worth a damn. I don't want to say that I am hiding, but I think I honestly am. It's like that line from the Soul Asylum song Runaway Train. "Wrong way on a one way track..." I haven't gone to the silly LARP game that I usually attend on Saturday nights. They killed my character. 
It never ceases to amaze me how fast I run through emotions. Thankfully I am used to such roller-coaster rides and can be prepared for such things, but it certainly doesn't stop me from being amazed. 
So I felt wierdness coming on and I suddenly remembered what kind of trouble I got into with good ol Babinox and Habbo Hotel. So I decided to hop into a Yahoo Messenger chat room and have some fun... Here are the results
I don't know how I have come to this point. I have lost all faith in the world and myself. More so myself. I don't know who it is I see when I look into the mirror. I feel as if I am falling deeper into a depression that I doubt that I will never be able to crawl out of. It's quite bothersome for me. The line that separates Lucien and Jake is becoming thinner and thinner. I am getting lost in the battle for dominance. 
lost
bored
So when life tosses you a curve ball you should be able to hit it right? Especially if you know it's coming and know exactly what part of the plate it's coming over, right? 
awake
Blink and a new day has dawned.
hopeful