O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

Translation: The repair of my car has made this a most excellent day.

http://lockerz.com/d/9405573

Something worth watching if you intend to be a writer in any field.

Basically, the only words that should go between the events in your story are "and therefore" or "but". If at any point you can insert the words "and then", you're screwed.

Good stories are not just a string of random scenes (though you can make that work if you tie it together somehow), but the results of cause and effect from the choices made by your characters, whether in response to the choices of others or some unforeseen disaster. And always remember that it is characters that make up a story, not events.

I'm gonna combine this with the idea of writing every woman character like Leia (hey, if you're gonna knock off Star Wars, at least do it right) and see what this does in my own writing. Should be interesting.

I had an accident on the interstate.

First off, I'm okay. Still a little shaken even now, but I'm okay. Only injuries were from my busted window and a little whiplash. Back's stiff and my arm stings a little. Other than that, I'm okay, and the other passengers were less hurt than me.

I was driving home from a furmeet on the interstate, giving a ride to three others (Rico, Amphi, and Amphi's girlfriend), and everything was going okay. Had my MP3 player going, cruise control at 75 mph, and the only big thing to happen so far was driving through a thunder shower with some small hail. Might've been bigger than that, but we were only in it for about ten to twenty minutes. A little while later, we saw a line of headlights in the northbound lane. There were flashing lights near the head of it and we figured there was something going on. Someone suggested a sobriety checkpoint, but as we got close, we saw several highway patrol vehicles and a few ambulances as well. Someone must've took a tumble in the ditch, maybe had too much to drink.

Next thing I know, the car ahead of me has his brake lights on and I'm coming up on him really fast. Many of you might be able to guess what happened next.

I hit my brakes, but I realize I can't slow down in time. I swerve into the left lane and miss him. Unfortunately, I'm not a professional driver, and my instincts kick in. I swerve right to try and get control, but my Honda Civic is very responsive. Too responsive. I end up drifting across the right lane and do a 180 into the right-hand ditch, hitting one of the white markers on the side of the road, shattering my window, denting my door, and shaving a little curl into the bottom of my door. My tires still have grass in the rims. Some mud on the outside. But we did come to a stop and we didn't roll. Nice shot of adrenaline though.

Next thing I know, this guy runs up and asks us if we're all okay. My passengers get out through the passenger door while the guy checks me over. He said he was in the military and was checking that I hadn't cut any major arteries. I got seen to in an ambulance and had a small bit of glass taken out of my foot. You could barely see it. Kinda makes me wish I hadn't worn flip-flops. Then they scrubbed down my arm with alcohol and let me go to talk with the deputy. I spent a little time in his car explaining what happened, got a citation for careless driving, and that was pretty much it. Some guys managed to drive my car out of the ditch and next to the shoulder, and I still had my hazard lights on. There wasn't much damage, so I was able to drive it. I dropped my passengers off at the apartment complex one of 'em lives in, then headed for home. Parked my car in the garage, got my stuff inside that I'd brought to the meet, then went upstairs and undressed in the shower, shaking out my clothes. After a shower, I pretty much settled down to bed, after some chocolate milk and an ibuprofen. Didn't drive home very fast though. Might've had a leaky tire.

I called my insurance company today and they should have someone out by tomorrow. I tried it last night, but seems they were too busy. Probably with all the people who got into accidents last night as well, some of them with a bit more booze in them than me. Actually, a lot more. None of us had anything to drink besides soda, juice, or water. No alcohol to my knowledge. And even with the $30 citation, I'm rather glad to be alive.

Guess all there is to do now is wait and fight off the temptation to ask what might have been. Even last night, it was hard. I wondered if I'd left a little later, or if I'd done this or that, or whatever, would it have still happened? But the fact is, I don't think any of us will ever know the full truth. Not in this life. When I get to heaven, maybe I'll know everything that was going on, and how close things really came. And whether heaven or hell were involved and how.

But right now I'm gonna thank God for another day, pounce a certain someone who's online right now, and maybe later give a proper toast to my guardian angels. Heck, they deserve a commendation. God knows, it could've been a lot worse.

I'll tell ya one thing though. I'm not gonna forget this. I'm gonna get a picture made to remind me of this, so I know to slow down near accidents, and be more careful. And also to celebrate getting through it alive.

Drive safe, everyone. And God bless.

EDIT: Okay, so, it slipped my mind, but I'm not twice an idiot. I slowed down when the rain was coming down hard and fast. At least there I remembered not to chance it. I had the accident in perfectly dry conditions; I just wasn't watching it.

WARNING: Rant of frustration peppered with strong language ahead. Reader discretion is advised.

---

I really am fucking tired of it. Y'know? This isn't so much the "Age of Reason" as it is the Age of Disbelief, or the Age of Cynicism. And it's really starting to piss me off.

What am I supposed to do when I talk about spiritual warfare and people talk like I'm crazy? "I'm concerned about you." Fuck your concern! If you care that fucking much about me, maybe you oughta take the fucking blinders off! I can't stand it when people talk about my spiritual experiences as if they were neuroses, or just a "mountain high". For the record, Mom? Dad? It just took place in the mountains. That doesn't mean what I had wasn't real. But hey, apparently you know more about the faith than me since you've lived so long. Except I learned more about the personality of Jesus from a friggin' book than I ever did from you. No offense. I'm kinda just venting here, and I know I'm harsher on everyone... well... some of the time. Other times, I'm pretty sure I'm right on the money, but it seems these days I have too much doubt to be sure. Ain't that a bitch?

Listen up. I'm tired of this nonsense. We are at war; ACT LIKE IT. Do you really think things ended with Jesus' victory? The cross, the resurrection, the ascension? Do you think it's over? Then you must think the Apostles were idiots because they sure as hell didn't think it was over. It's right there in the Bible, people! They knew the devil was up to something. They knew that the persecutions they suffered were not entirely the fault of their tormentors. They recognized that it was This Present Darkness that was working against them. The devil's been around for thousands upon thousands of years. Longer than we've been around. And yet the attitude that keeps cropping up is that somehow that's all over. That we don't need to fight, that either the devil is powerless or that Jesus will do all the fighting while we sit on our asses at church and sing pretty songs about him.

Really. May I ask what all has changed to bring that about? What happened to make it so we don't have to fight? Can you name it? Can't be the Ransom Jesus paid. The Apostles certainly took spiritual warfare seriously. Assuming they weren't idiots or superstitious, things must have changed between then and now. So what was it? Did the devil just give up? Did he and God reach a new agreement? Are his forces (a third of heaven's might, remember?) all used up, or deserted?

Or does he just want you to think that?

I'm not crazy, all right? It's not an illogical thing to believe. Everything's possible, provided you have the time and resources. And the devil's time is short. If you were an evil, envious little bastard of a fallen angel, what would you do? I know I sure as hell wouldn't stop fighting. I'd have no reason to. If I'm going to lose, I may as well drag as many down into darkness and misery as I can. It's not hard to imagine how evil thinks. It's so small-minded.

So. Are any of you willing to look this in the face? Are any of you ready and able to accept that life is more like The Lord of the Rings than Seinfeld? Are you going to listen to the discontent of your heart that longs for a better life and world?

Or are you just going to cower and hope he doesn't target you? That he won't pour salt in the wounds he gave you, that maybe he'll just leave you be? Heh. I suppose I might as well ask myself the same question. But I wouldn't ask it of you if I wasn't willing to ask it of myself.

I need allies, people. More than friends. Something closer to the Aussie concept of "mates". A band of brothers. A pack. Ye gods, you've no idea how I long for that. How I crave to be in a small group of like-minded people ready to storm the gates of hell. To seek out the wounded, the broken-hearted, the captives and casualties of this damnable war. My heart breaks to think of so many living in misery because they don't have God in their lives as Father, Brother... even Lover. How they just "get on with it" and live lives of quiet desperation and secret discontent. Terry Pratchett recognized it. It's really frightening to think that one of our greatest abilities is to adapt and accept nearly any situation. Even ones that kill the soul and dash the heart's needs and wants into a thousand pieces. It infuriates me to think on how the devil laughs as he tugs the strings, slipping foul thoughts into unguarded minds and hearts, whispering foul lies that bind them to him.

Do you think he's powerless? He's not. There's a reason we're commanded to "take every thought captive to Jesus". Some of them are not our own. Is it really you that wants to kill that guy who just cut you off in traffic? Is "road rage" a natural result of human aggression and too much stress? If I have a school project due today or tomorrow, and my mind won't stop thinking in circles on all that I have to do, is that just my own nerves, my own brand of insanity? Is it natural for a man to have the urge to divorce his wife simply because she suggested, only trying to be helpful, that he ask for directions?

People. Really. You think it's just us that's made this world so damn messed up? You think it's just the sin inside the human soul that's responsible? Please. Why don't you try selling me real estate in the Florida Everglades? I'm sure I can find some "Ocean-Front Property in Arizona" if you're interested.

Enough of this nonsense. This isn't the Age of Reason. This is the Age of Let's Pretend All the Pretty Lights We Make Scared the Devil Away. As if technology and science could trump the powers of a former arch-angel. They fly between atoms like we walk through air. As fun as Ghostbusters is, the devil is far too subtle and clever to let himself be trapped by mere humans. It's much easier for them if we think they don't exist. Manifesting only clears away the grey fog they use to obscure black and white. Far better to leave us clueless.

Are you awake yet? Are you going to take the Red Pill, follow Gandalf on the road, walk through the Wardrobe? Or will you surround yourself with simple, shallow pleasures to numb the cry in your heart? Or perhaps crush your discontent with duties and obligations instead of risking an adventure? They make you late for tea, you know.

WAKE UP. Don't you remember what all the stories taught you? The fairy tales, the myths, the books you love so well? Surely you know the Three Lessons?

There is more to this world than what we can see.

There is a war happening right now, between good and evil.

There is a role for you to play.

You are needed. Men, where is your strength? Women, where is your beauty? We need you! I need you! God help me, I've tried to fight alone and it only gets me heartbreak. I know my vision's not perfect. I know I've been unfair, held people to standards they can't meet. I've used this or that in their words and actions to denounce them as useless to me. Maybe useless to the cause. The worst part is I know I'm not completely wrong. But I won't excuse the times I have been. I just know I need more than friends. I need packmates, warriors, fighters. I need the strength of other men. I need the beauty of women. I need allies who will fight for me and with me. Why I haven't found them, I don't know. A combination of many things, I am sure, not the least is the demon of Isolation that twists my thoughts. It's so very hard to seek allies when your mind focuses only on the disagreements and differences.

I don't care anymore. I admit, perhaps I give John Eldredge too much credit. But dammit, I can't find anyone else who gives me so much hope! I still drift, I know that. I spend too much time on my computer, I don't pray, and I don't seek God. But I still remember how it felt to read Wild At Heart for the first time. To finally feel like someone had pierced all my hubris and nonsense and gotten right to my heart. To see the unknown feelings and fears put into words I did not have. Can anyone blame me if I proclaim him to be this era's Martin Luther? We always need someone to prod us back toward God, toward Jesus, even though they have faults and failings. And God sends them. Every time. And in some ways, I take solace in that. It can be daunting to realize even the man I find so enthralling needs help as much as me. But then if he struggles and still has faith, why can't I?

I am sorry if I have ever been, or will be, ungracious toward everyone around me. Please understand, this is often just frustration and spiritual warfare. And yes, a bit of pride. Yet I cannot wait any longer. These are the stakes. Do you understand? Doesn't it break your heart to think of how he's out there, right now, twisting so many hearts into miserable pawns he can use? And hurting those he can't? I know he did it to me. I was something of an unselfish child. Then second grade rolled around and I tried making friends with the wrong guys. You can't tell me that was all them. The words didn't stop even when the teasing did. I don't think they ever did. They just got quieter.

WAKE UP. You are not safe. You are not home yet. And they won't stop shooting at you just because you ask nicely. These are your choices: fight your way to freedom and a life of joy, or cower and hope they won't torture you too much. There is no middle ground. There is no room for debate. Fight. I will join you, and I promise I will be the fiercest ally you have. I am imperfect, I am neurotic, and I may hurt you at times. For that, I am sorry. But if you help me, I will help you. We can beat this together. Don your armor. Take up your sword. Summon the angel armies and cover yourself in his blood. Renounce the demons and your old heart. Seek repentance. Ask for the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Warriors, to come upon you. Claim the riches he has set aside for you in heaven. Put your friends, family, and everything you love and desire in his hands. And above all, fight.

They need us. They need you. I beg of you... answer the call! This is our most desperate hour. I know not how close the end may be, but I promise you there are dark days ahead. There is no more time. You cannot remain asleep any longer. Wake up and FIGHT!

Ugh. I feel off today. Discovered while doing a demo that I don't have the supplies for my next two at 4 and 7 today. My manager has advised me to scrounge around for pieces of leather and rope I can use for my demos here at home. I could go into the office to get them... except that's an hour's drive one way. And I'm rather sick of having to go all that way. I'm beginning to doubt the wisdom of being in this job.

What's more finding out my supplies were low also reminded me of everything else I haven't done. Haven't pursued new contacts. Haven't called back to check with previous people to see if they contacted those people. Haven't set up new appointments, except for the one at 4 today. And I'm now 1 for 5 in regards to sales.

I have trouble with commitment and don't know why. And I always seem to doubt myself whenever I get a little ways into stuff. Sometimes almost at the beginning. Probably some spiritual warfare going on, but I'm not sure what. I just find myself with the urge to quit, to back out, to find other employment. I'm not really sure to do, and I keep finding myself in doubt of my abilities, and I hate that. I don't even know if I'm where God needs me to be.

I'm weary, I'm stressed, and my mind is filling with doubts. Any wonder that I just want to curl up today?

So, got a call yesterday. Could I show up for an interview at 5 PM in a city an hour north of me? Sure. Had plenty of time to help mom out, shower, and shave before dressing and heading off. A little while later, I am given the job.

Selling cutlery for Cutco. High priced knives and tools for lonely housewives. Or something like that. I guess I find out more on Thursday.

Much as I look forward to trying this out, I am a little nervous. I can set my own hours, work from anywhere, and I get paid based on how much I work, with a little bonus incentive if I make enough sales. Still, I wonder if this is the job for me or not.

Would be nice if Mom and Dad wouldn't harp on me to keep looking for other jobs. Yeah, they could prove better. But I have a job. Can't I try it out before I go looking for more?

Ah well. I guess we'll see how this goes. So long as I get money, I won't complain.

Last journal deleted, because I am such a spaz. His phone didn't just lose power, but apparently bricked itself or something. Makes me kinda glad I'm the only one at the furmeets without a smart phone.

Note to self: Don't post remote possibilities you don't consider likely; people take offense to that. And it creates drama. Whoops.

There, got that off the page.

I was gonna replace it with some journal about my sexuality, but I'm not sure it wouldn't be some kind of rambling nonsense. I dunno if I've been in my right mind as of late anyway, and I'm sure as heck not that close to God. Not like I used to be.

Ugh. Just so long as someone doesn't try that "Maybe you're really bicurious" line on me. I really don't like it when people do that. As if the only explanation for "non-straight" leanings is that a person isn't straight. Kinda narrow-minded thinking.

What color are your underwear/panties?
Right now? Invisible.

Do they have a design?
Invisible stripes.

Girls, what color is your bra?
Charteuse

Is there a design?
Muffins

What color are your socks?
White

Is there a design on them?
Rarely, if ever

Are you a virgin?
*sigh* Yes.

Happy that way?
No. I need to get married, dammit.

What is your favorite sex position?
I WOULDN'T KNOW THAT, NOW WOULD I!!

What is your sexuality/sexual orientation/What the fuck do you consider yourself?
"I'm complicated." - Dorian Gray

Do you look at hentai?
Meh. On occasion.

Real porn?
Only if it has something odd to draw me in, like furry stuff.

Do you read smutty/porn stories?
I have. Not so much now, and don't really aim to.

Do you read/watch/look at gay porn/hentai/stories?
On occasion.

Who was your first kiss with?
*sigh* No one. Thanks for bringing that up.

Are they of the opposite sex?
GEE, I WONDER!

Have you ever kissed or had sex with someone of the same sex?
*headdesks*

Is there any one of your friends that you would ever consider having sex with?
Maybe one, but I'd kinda like to marry her first.

What would you do if you walked in on your partner having sex?
Leave. Stay away from any weapons. Find a place in public to be alone, away from them. Depending on the circumstances... probably file for divorce.

Oh, I'm sorry. Were you expecting a happy/kinky answer? F*** off!

Do you have any piercings other than your ears?
I have no piercings and no desire to get any.

If so, where?
POINTLESS QUESTION IS POINTLESS!

Do you have any tattoos?
Meh. Only ones I've had are temporary. Not sure if I've had henna done.

If so, where?
...moving on...

Have you ever been pregnant/got a girl pregnant?
THAT KINDA HAS A PREREQUISITE TO IT, DOESN'T IT.

Ever done any illegal drugs?
No.

If so, which ones?
YEAH, LET ME WAIVE MY FIFTH AMENDMENT RIGHTS IN AN INTERNET MEME!!

Have you ever cheated on someone?
Not to my knowledge.

Ever been cheated on?
I think I'd remember that.

Have you ever been called a whore/slut?
No. And will not tolerate it.

Do you own any sex toys?
My emotional needs cannot be met by your silicone lube and fake genitals.

Have you ever had a sexual fantasy involving a relative?
No. I take any thoughts of that nature and drown them ruthlessly.

Have you ever masturbated?
Are there furries who haven't?

Have you ever taken a naked picture of yourself?
If I ever have, I probably deleted it. To my knowledge, no.

Have you ever taken a naked picture of someone else?
I haven't been that intimate with anyone.

Are you on any form of birth control(the pill, the patch, etc)?
I AM A SEAHORSE AND USE PLANNED PARENTHOOD.

Have you ever written/drawn smut/porn?
Written, yes. But I don't want a reputation for that. Knowing the fandom, it'd be hard to get attention for my real work.

Do you swear in front of your parents?
Not if I can help it. I swear too much anyway.

Do they care?
Since they care about my character, I'd say yes.

Are you uncomfortable yet?
Eh, a couple times in the meme, but not that much. Are you?

Are you taking this quiz of your own free will?
NO, I HAVE A GUN POINTED AT MY HEAD AND OH GOD DON'T I WA


We apologize for that. Do not be alarmed. Measures have been taken and everything is fine. Move along.

I can't stand it any longer. This pussy-footing about. A reluctance, a cowardice on my part. I must live up to my name. I must be who I am.

And I believe that entails ministry. To furries.

I will be hated. I will be trolled, threatened, spat upon, perhaps even abused, verbally or physically. I don't care.

I've seen what he's done. I've seen the lies and half-truths he's used to bait so many, and wrap them in chains of spirit and thought. It shakes me to my core to think of what the devil has done to so many poor souls. Literally, in fact. The old shakes come on as I write this. So be it.

I love you guys. The entire furry fandom seems almost like coming home. And I dare say that, despite whatever stranglehold the devil may have on it, the fandom still has glimpses of heaven in it. I can't help but love the creativity and compassion that goes on, even as it's twisted, warped and taken advantage of. I love the wicked sense of humor so many have. I love them for their stories and their artwork, their fursuits and sculptures, and the webcomics. I love them for being able to keeping something of the child-like spirit alive. I love them as if they were my own family.

That's why I want them to know Jesus. No, not the one they know or have heard of. Not the "Buddy Jesus" who hangs out with you and never rocks the boat. Not the "pale ghost" in all those misguided stain-glass windows, aloof and distant. And certainly not the Jesus of the coloring books.

No. I want them to know Jesus as he is. I wish I could say, "As I know him", yet I know I don't know him as well as I could. Better now than I ever have, yes, yet I want to know him more! This is not the 2D Jesus of church culture. This is the Living Christ, the source of all life and joy and love. Yes, yes, he is loving and merciful and compassionate. All you've heard in the church is true. But it's not the full picture. Not by a long shot. Jesus is so much more than that.

Playful.

Fierce.

Human.

Generous.

Honest.

Free.

Cunning.

Humble.

True.

All in all... beautiful.

I want people to know this Jesus. This man who gave sight to the blind, strong legs to the lame, and a much-needed touch to at least one leper, if not more. He challenged the religious men, not the pagans, for chaining down the souls of men with their foul laws. He drove out spirits of corruption and madness, powerful beings that no drug could ever thwart. He fought to restore his people. All people. And in the end, he gave his life to ransom our very nature, to renew us and return us to the glory that was ours when Eden was yet young. A man who was man yet God, a strange yet perfect mix of the divine and the mortal. A template of what is meant to be the final stage of human nature. One so humble as to simply walk everywhere, even when that meant days upon the dusty roads! Yet powerful enough to walk out of the grave three days after his death with the keys to hell swinging on his belt. A Dread Champion and a Lover of Men. A Beautiful Outlaw, if you will.

This. This is the Jesus the world must know. A Jesus alive and full of personality, who shakes everything to its foundations, who will leave no stronghold of the Enemy untouched. And yet, a Jesus who invites us all to join him. Not just in warfare, in this mighty campaign of sabotage, but in all life and love and goodness. Not one soul who walks by his side will find their desires unmet, save those things we crave that only heaven can fulfill. I dare say it is only by his hand that I am still here. My path was one in darkness, and now the sun begins to shine, despite the murky clouds that try to hide it. I could have turned this way or that into disaster, and indeed I strayed into more than a few thorny patches. Yet here I am. Still imperfect, yet with love and hope in my heart. Still struggling at times and still wandering. Yet always I return. After all, I made a promise to him years ago. One particular night when I was deep in sin, he pressed upon me, and I resisted. But I remember my promise. And I have kept it, and keep it still, as often as I can.

I know not where the path leads. Out of college into the wilderness, perhaps. Or maybe someplace far more familiar. Or toward someone dear to my heart.

I only know I must follow. Whatever comes my way, whatever taunts and jeers and misunderstandings are tossed at me, I may stumble... but I will never quit the race toward home.

Hate me if you want to, love me if you can. But I intend to be a man after God's own heart no matter what.

This is my declaration. This is my battle cry. To preach Christ wherever I can, however I can, whenever I can. To make him known, truly known, to other people and to see them set free of their bondage and their strife.

I will set the strongholds of the devil ablaze with God's glory or die trying. I only pray he gives me the wisdom and the courage to follow through.

Just so you all aren't worrying over me too much, here's an update.

Had a talk with dad today while out shopping for school supplies. He's down in Arizona keeping mom's folks company. I mentioned those two words that had popped into my heart...

...and God bless that man, 'cause almost the next thing he said was, "Quit school for what?"

Always gotta ask the next question. So I did.

Ministry. I'm not even sure what kind, but seminary felt like a firm "No", so probably not that. I think it counts as "school" anyhow. Not that I really want to go to seminary; I suspect the devil likes to put funny ideas in people's heads through some of them.

So. Last verse of Malachi 4 was odd to read. I'm not sure how it may be relevant. Perhaps God wants me to become some kind of street preacher. I don't know. It still seems cloudy, but I'm gonna continue reading my Bible and pray God keeps giving me verses for instruction. Please keep praying for me so I can get this sorted out.

God bless.

Some thoughts I felt like sharing, and to update people on some of the stuff going on with me, if only internal.

---

College is going well, finally. Switching to being an English Major turned out to be a good move, and I have found myself staying on top of my assignments with little trouble, even when leaving things for last minute (which was only last weekend). I've never felt so confident in my life, and my parents are glad to see me break the cycle of procrastinating and putting myself through the wringer over stuff that's really not that hard.

So you can imagine my surprise when two words were dropped into my soul this past week:

"Quit school."

This has disrupted my mood as nothing else can. Now the thing is, I've been basing a lot of my words and actions upon intuition and listening for "that still, small voice" that I assume to be from God. And it has seemed to lead me into places I hadn't thought I'd go, sometimes good and sometimes into things that ended with me being torn up and spiritually weary. There have been days in the past two semesters when I just wanted to go home to heaven and not come back. I doubt that it was only a little spiritual warfare. The timing of some of my breakdowns were suspicious.

Yet these new orders, if they are from God, are a hard pill to swallow. I just found the major that works so well for me! And yet... and yet, if they're not shooting at you, are you a threat? It's made me wonder why things are going so well this semester. Is it because I've found my place? Or is this just where I'm comfortable? I left the art department behind because I didn't like what appeared to be their dismissal of beauty in favor of "freedom of expression" or whatever. Subjective artwork makes me sick in the soul. I need beauty to survive; we all do. Who would want to live in a world without it?

Maybe then that's why God told me to go to school in the first place, if it wasn't just following my own broken heart. To get me up close and personal with what passes for art education these days so that I would vow to swing the other way. I find there is little that will sober up a man better than showing him the end of the road he's on. I could've ended up a very different person, and possibly a very wicked one.

I could use prayers for clarity here. While I like this major and my classes, I must follow as God leads. I don't have to understand why, even though my soul begs to know the answer. I just have to be sure I'm getting it from him.

---

If I leave college though, I won't miss the bill. I'm already up to debt over my eyeballs (four or five times over if you compare my net worth to it), and it's disgusting to be hungry on campus and see what they charge for their "food services".

Heck, it's infuriating. I feel like I'm living out the store scene from The Grapes of Wrath! There are insane prices on everything, and I look up to see the guy behind the counter grinning so hard I want to knock his teeth in! 'Cause either I spend money there on their overpriced goods, or I spend gasoline to go out looking for someplace that might give me better food at a cheaper price. And good luck trying to walk there! Never seems to be any fast food joint within walking distance of campus. Even if there is, it'll probably take you longer to get there than driving would, and time between classes is often too precious to waste. If it weren't for zoning laws, I'd buy a house right next to campus, tear it down and build a Burger King or something right there. And I bet I'd do better financially than any gig in town, even on the off days when no one seems to want my stuff.

With the thousands of dollars I have to pay just to go to this freakin' school, you think they could afford to let me have a couple free meals! I'm scrapin' by thanks to the free food at the Lutheran Campus House, and that's only two days a week! I'm gonna go broke doing this, and I can't help but feel someone in this system deserves a severe beat down.

Then again, maybe it's not the school's fault, not entirely. I mean, when you hire a union to do all your food services, it should be no surprise that prices sky-rocket.

How's that "support the unions" thing working out for ya?

---

Now that we're into politics, I guess I can get around to talking about my pick for President.

Wanna hear it?

Tough, I'm sharing anyway.

My pick for President in 2012 is...


...nobody.

Yeah. Nobody.

The fact is I've gotten very cynical with politics in recent years. Granted, I am uninformed and lazy, so I don't do the research that would give me a better idea of who all these people are. And yet would that really restore my confidence in D.C.? I don't think so.

Now, I don't really know if I'll vote or not this year. I think I probably will, though my faith in the system is rather low at this point, and I wonder if I'll make any difference at all. And last time I voted, I could've sworn God said it'd make no difference if I just left the paper blank. And I think he was right, 'cause there was that massive backlash against the Democrats. I'm not sure my vote was anything more than a drop in the tsunami. In any case, if I vote, it'll be for whoever I feel is the right candidate for the job, not who's most likely to beat Obama. I'm tired of being told to vote for a "winner" who may just turn around and betray my beliefs for political gain. I just can't believe that this system will solve things. It may be too late for that.

And in the long run, I think it's inconsequential.

You heard me. It doesn't matter.

All we get from Washington is more and more laws telling us how to live. The only real freedom that's grown, so far as I can tell, is the Second Amendment, and I fear we may need it before long. I am unsure how Freedom of Speech is doing, yet I think we're still doing better than any other country.

No. No, if freedom and salvation are to be ours, they won't come from Washington. Don't you remember? This country was founded on a shared belief that mankind is endowed with inalienable rights from a Creator God. I don't think all the Founders were Christian or even knew (or would accept) Jesus. Yet they knew that our rights never come from the government. So tell me now, how the heck is voting for this guy or that one supposed to make me more or less free?

I AM FREE.

I have been for a long time. Even in the midst of a political prison, I will always be free. Because I am a Christian and there's nothing man can do to me to change that. And it's probably for the best they don't. I know myself better than any of you. Only Jesus knows me better. It would be best if I kept on being a Deist of some kind.

Despite all that's going on, despite how my spirit drags and sighs when it hears another political argument, or how this or that person "won the debate"... none of it matters. Because I know him better now. I know the real Jesus, the one hidden behind the religious fog, behind all the veils people keep putting up out of some mistaken idea of "reverence". People, the veil was torn long ago. He does not want to hear, "Lord, Lord!" but "Abba! Father!"

He wants to be closer than any of us would find comfortable. And I dare say he's started a revolution that will take the whole world by surprise.

We weren't ready for Martin Luther.

No one expected Billy Graham.

And the schemers and plotters of this earth have underestimated the Beautiful Outlaw, working through men with honest hearts and messy histories that got healed.

You want a revolution, Mr. Socialist? Well, you got one, in the sense of the ancient Chinese curse.

Aslan is on the move, Dear Hearts. I forgot it, but he has reminded me. Trust me on this, if on nothing else. It will change everything. Nothing will be the same.

And that is why I have hope even if "Obummer" ends up President for Life. The King of Kings has far more authority than any mortal man, and he takes a dim view of those who persecute his flock.

Heh. Come and see, friends. Come and see what Jesus is up to now. It's gonna be one heckuva ride.

I don't really know why I had this dream. But I did. And I
somehow feel it's important to get as much down as possible
before I forget it. Just in case I wind up back there.

It was like I was some snot-nosed kid in a land of danger and shadows. A place that looked like real life, but was not. And I sure didn't recognize any of the places I was in. Maybe I would have earlier, but not now. Gotta keep going; memory's always fading.

My first clear memory is of trying to find a weapon. I know there's more before that, yet I can't recall it. I just ran into this room from somewhere else, knowing I needed a weapon. I dig through something like a laundry hamper, searching for, of all things, a Nerf gun. I find one that looks close enough to a minigun or fully automatic. Then I find and insert a clip, which somehow seems smaller once it's inserted. Whatever. Place is looney anyhow and I know it. Best to keep fighting and worry over inconsistencies later.

What happens next is odd, and some psychologists might have a field day with it. My second eldest sister comes into the room. Yet somehow I know she's an enemy, or perhaps not my sister. I open fire on her face with the Nerf gun, and she retaliates with a stream of water to mine. I'm not sure if it was coming from her mouth, but that's the impression I get. Whether her mouth or a hose, it was blinding me pretty good.

Next thing I know, I'm in a different room altogether, dank and musty with leaves everywhere, dealing with my uncle from mom's side of the family. In fact... second eldest brother to her. Odd. I don't believe in coincidences. Perhaps this is a significant pattern? Anyhow, the details here are blurred and mucky, except for a memory of sealing some wet, decaying leaves and who knows what else in a cheap, plastic grocery bag. And the imposter struggles for breath. I interrogate him, but the conversation is gone now. It was important. And I knew then he wasn't my uncle. If I didn't before, this cinched it. And I knew he had a weakness.

Next, I'm in another, bigger room, this one large and tall enough to hold a few people. Some performers are coming out of another room, or a small house of some kind. And I see my adversary for the first time.

I remember him as a small man, perhaps a midget, and older. A beard, I believe, grey and white, with perhaps some balding on top. Exact details I don't recall. But I know it's him. And he tells me he's putting on this little show for me. Yet I know it's a trap of some kind. The whole thing feels off, though I remember only some unicycles with clowns, maybe juggling stuff. And the guy tells me his name. Or someone else does.

Grandfather... Something Something.

Dammit. I knew that name. I had it. Two names, first and surname, preceded by Grandfather. It's important, I know it. Like he's Rumplestiltskin and somehow knowing his name will give me power over him. Seems awfully convenient that I've forgotten it, and almost everything he's said about himself. Or that others have told me. And despite his nice clothes and his gentle face, I know this guy is a monster. He is not to be trusted. So instead of waiting to see how the show ends up being trouble for me, I dash for the door leading into the "backstage" or wherever. Curious enough, it's center-stage, in the back, and I manage to get in without anyone noticing or being aware of it, despite being out in the open. Perhaps Grandfather looked away, and the juggling clowns were busy.

Inside, two more clowns or jugglers are getting ready. They don't seem to notice me. I see some juggling pins and put them in my plastic grocery bag. I don't think it did what I thought it'd do, but it makes a handy weapon. I'm not sure if I threaten them or if they even notice me, but the two performers walk off to my left. After that, I make my way further into this room or building, determined to get as far away from Grandfather Munchkin as possible. (Hmm... feels almost close... but not quite there.)

And then my alarm woke me up.

Now I have a bad habit of hitting the snooze way too many times. So even though my class is at 10:30 in the morning, I set my alarm for 08:00 sharp. Usually takes me an hour or so to get fully woken up, but it does work. Usually.

This time, I get back in bed and try to figure out what the hell that guy's name was. But I can't concentrate on him. Not even a little. My mind keeps wandering or dozing off, and I can't manage to fall asleep again. The name eludes me and it frustrates me. It's almost like he reached through, outside of my dream, and messed with my head. He didn't dare let me remember his name, and I get the feeling it's to keep me from having power over him.

Maybe it's only a dream. Maybe it's nothing, just a weird coincidence. Yet this is the second time I've fallen into a story through dreaming, and even been an active part of things. I never got around to questioning that wolf that kidnapped Alice (yes, that one, from Wonderland), though perhaps that was for the best. And I'm not sure dwelling on this one will yield me any better results. Yet at least the wolf, or shrub wolf I guess, didn't seem that evil.

Grandfather is. Not was, is.

Despite all my reasoning, something in me is screaming not to let my guard down. Not to ignore this. And even if this is all fiction, I am a writer. I cannot ignore something so Mythical. There's power in the old tales. Whether this one is just a dream or not, I know I dare not dismiss it. Not entirely.

Whether in dreams, a mystical land or just my own psyche... I know Grandfather Munchkin, or whatever his name is, is still out there. And I damn well better be prepared when he comes back.

After all, it's only paranoia if there's no one out to get ya... right?

This is going to upset a few people, yet I feel it is for the best.

The fact is my fursona doesn't match me as closely as I would like. Sure, it's nice to have him be all buff and strong as a boxer... yet... I'm not. I don't have that physique, and even if I did, I don't think boxing has ever been more than a fetish for me. Most of my favorite pictures and stories that deal with boxing are the more violent ones. And it wasn't until I got a bit of a shock looking at something on FA that I began to rethink Bandit's role as a boxer.

What that something was I don't feel comfortable sharing. For one, it involves someone I won't name who's on my watch list. For another, I talked with a friend and he said I was over-reacting. And maybe I was. Still, whether I did or not, it had the benefit of making me rethink things. So, tough as it's gonna be, I have to make a change. Maybe a few.

First, I think I'm gonna avoid having Bandit portrayed as a boxer anymore. It really doesn't fit who I am. I have a much more interesting role for him, one that serves as a metaphor for how I imagine my creative process works (though I admit I may have stolen the idea from another writer on another site). It actually feels a lot like Myst in my mind. I've always felt a bit of kinship with Atrus from both the games and the novels. And though perhaps I'm a bit more spiritual than him, I don't think it'd be hard for us to get along. Heck, I always feel like a long-lost friend when I play the later games. A testament to the incredible acting and writing in them.

But I digress. I really do feel this is a better direction for me to go in. Even if it leads me away from boxing stuff entirely, well... so what? It's not the most important thing in my life. And there's plenty of other stuff I can use to fill the void. Besides, so long as I hang onto the boxing stuff I feel like I'm just... how shall I say this... "dancing on the line"? Like I'm "mocking God", or trying to have it both ways. And to be honest, I don't want to do that. And if it means giving up the stuff I've put so much time and interest into...

...well, so be it.

In any case, I think I'll delete the more violent stuff from my favorites and any older stuff I find swimming around in my harddrive. Perhaps I'll keep some of the boxing stories I've started, but I may take a break from them. I can come back to them once I know I can approach them with a much more mature attitude. Or I may just let them fade. Who knows? But it's important I break with this in pursuit of bettering myself and knowing myself more. And I think this will help.

I'll keep stuff in my gallery though. I don't see any reason to take that art down, not until I start getting comments or notes that I don't like. Until then, I see no reason not to leave them up.

Guess I better get started. Wish me luck.

Okay, might be a lame title, but whatever. =P

I was just inspired by watching a Let's Play and seeing someone make a more fiery version of his character. So, this idea popped into my head:

If your character/fursona was in a video game, what sort would it be? List as many details as you like, such as items, power-ups, their general moves and special attacks, and why they're going out to kick butt. Villains and mooks might be good to include as well.

I'm not sure about my fursona, but I think my detective trio would fit well in a kind of detective RPG. I don't know too many of those. It would generally involve finding evidence and investigating suspects, as well as turn-based fights against criminals and bad guys. You'd probably get an option to arrest said criminals if their HP or whatever is low enough. Or if they surrender (though some might pretend).

Heh. I suppose Bandit could be in a boxing game, like a Furry Punch-Out of some kind. Yet I've had this urge to see an action/platformer game with the main character as a boxer for some reason. Like the old 2D games from the SNES era, with the ridiculous sprites on some of them.

I have a lot of other characters in my head, here and there. Not sure what games they'd be in. Though I do know Lucius would make a pretty good villain for an adventure game, especially if it involved a creepy setting and a bit of mindscrew.

....okay, a lot of mindscrew. That evil fox is messed up.

Anyone else wanna take a turn? You can post here or steal this journal for your own. Whatever you do, have fun!

Leave me alone. Stop talking to me on AIM. You lost your convo privileges for a reason.

I don't care what you say you are. I only quoted Scripture. I only told you what I believe. If you don't like it, tough. You can troll me, you can harass me, but you cannot change what I believe.

I don't know if all gays will go to hell. Heck, there may be precedent for at least some to make it. They're as human as the next guy or gal, even if their "tastes" aren't appropriate according to society or even God.

But you? Heh. With your attitude, I wouldn't be surprised to see you in hell. I hope I'm wrong. Ye gods, do I hope I'm wrong. You think you understand, but you don't. So stop bothering me, pup. Wait until you're 30 and maybe we can talk again.

Until then, leave me the hell alone. I know what you're selling and I ain't buying.

New rule.

Since MSN is being a bitch and won't let me see people's profiles on their site without me being signed in (and why the hell it won't sign me in automatically from the IM program), we're gonna do this differently.

If you want to add me to MSN, or better yet, any of my IM buddy lists, you're gonna note me first. You're gonna wait for me to say "yes". Then you can send me an invitation or whatever they're calling it. If you attempt to send me one without sending a note or waiting for confirmation, I'm gonna assume you're a spam bot, and I won't investigate.

Sorry, but this is how it is. I'm not even gonna try to work with M$ customer support. I tried to reset my password, but apparently it didn't work. I hate that.

So, yeah. There you go. Now pardon me while I go affix their logo to something soft and punchable.

This is something I should've gotten around to a while back. My how prices fluctuate.

I am looking to sell some games. I really don't play them that much (even my favorites), so I have little reason to keep them. I'm not going to show a profit on this; I'm certain of it. These are all last-gen games, so there's not much value in them. Really don't care what you do with them (though if you destroy any on purpose, don't tell me about it; I'm not interested in your pathetic little games of sadism), just so long as your money is good. And that you're not in dire financial straights, like me. I'd rather not take money from people who think old PS2 and Gamecube games are a better buy than, say, food? It wouldn't sit well with me.

Anyway, I searched online and found some sites that will buy up these games of mine, though I've no idea what they do with them. I've gotten a list of prices from three sites, and figured out which are the best offers. Some of the prices have changed since I last did these totals (and I have added some of my "keepers" to the pile, though it pains me to do it), so God only knows if I'd get a good value on this.

Before I venture onto eBay or commit to these sites, I figured I'd try a less formal route. Anyone who can meet or beat the best offers listed below for that game can have it. I will provide you with my PayPal email through notes and you can send me an address. Please don't send me money assuming the game is yours; the deal must be finalized by notes first. I am looking for good offers, preferably in cash. If you want to offer up art commissions, that's fine, but please be advised that most of these games won't be worth a $5 sketch or badge. Yeah, it's that bad; should've sold 'em years ago (also, GameStop will cheat you; don't trust 'em). I also have to figure out what to do with my PS2 and the memory card, but one thing at a time.

I only got a week until school starts, so let's get a move on here! I'll be busy with homework the next couple months, so lemme hear those offers!

Games and prices listed below:

PS2
----

Karoke Revolution Presents: American Idol (no mic) - $1.33
Naruto: Ultimate Ninja - $1.08
Shadow Hearts Covenant - $9.45
Legend of Kay - $2.47
Sly Cooper - $1.09
Sly 2 - $1.37
Sly 3 - $1.37
Burnout 3 - $1.39
Burnout Revenge - $2.35
Ratchet & Clank - $1.33
R&C: Going Commando - $1.40
R&C: Up Your Arsenal - $1.47
Ratchet: Deadlocked - $0.92
Okami - $11.00

Gamecube
----

LoZ: Wind Waker - $8.80
Open Season - $1.87
Star Fox Assault - $6.05
Sonic Heroes - $2.00
Sonic Mega Collection - $1.70
Metroid Prime - $1.50
Midway Arcade Treasures - $5.57
Namco Museum - $2.00
Mario Kart: Double Dash - $6.92
Super Smash Bros. Melee - $8.47


Them's the numbers. I haven't looked into local stores yet, though I will. I wanna make sure I have some potential buyers to make sure I've got this right. Comment here if interested. Thanks!

Things I learned from my first Fur Meet:

1.) I need to go to more. Only way to keep these nervous jitters from shaking me apart!

2.) Controversial topics are few and far between, but I think I can handle myself when they come up. Time will tell if the local furs can accept me despite how much my worldview conflicts with their own.

3.) Socialize more. When I turn things from a friendly joke into a serious let-down... yeah. Way to ingratiate yourself with the ladies, Bandit. >.<

4.) Even if I'm not hungry, meeting at IHOP can be fun. A small drink and everything's fine. =3

5.) Fur Meets are better than dealing with the damn WALL OF TEXT someone posts that rubs you the wrong way. Fracking hell, man! Was that thing really necessary? e_e I could see Ireland from on top of it!

6.) ...come up with more things to learn from a Fur Meet. =P

Looking forward to the next one! Here's hoping I don't panic! *raises a mug and drinks*

For No Apparent Reason...

...moments ago, I stood atop the stairs in the house, threw my arms up straight with my hands kinda like claws, and went, "RAWR!"

I have no idea why. There isn't anyone down in the kitchen to scare even!

Anyone else have this happen?

I have been ruled by this fear... a very unique one... watching what I do or what I say, in case it comes true... my fear of rejection... by the Furry Fandom...

Good grief, why?!

What can they do to me? I've been to a total of one Con. Never been to a fur meet. And can they ban me from enjoying the same things they do? Hell, even if I thought porn was okay and not a blight upon the human soul, they couldn't take that from me. I can lurk with the best of them. I know how not to make ripples. I "get" stealth.

I am a Fringe Furry. Been hangin' out in the shallows, hesitant to move in from the edges. Why? Part of it is a lack of social interaction. I'm still a little new when it comes to socializing face-to-face, yet I have made progress. The other part is I've seen some of what's deeper in, stuff that gives me pause... and not all of it relates to porn.

I've been scared of pissing off these people? Screw it. I can live with the rejection. All they can do is push me out of the fandom altogether. And you know what? They can only do that in part. They can't stop me from liking the same things, from believing furry characters have unexplored potential. And if I'm never invited to an art jam, well, so be it. I can find people who won't judge me and acknowledge my beliefs, even if they don't agree with me on everything.

So, no more runnin'. I aim to misbehave.

Furry Fandom, you can consider yourself on notice. I won't back down. I won't turn tail. And I will speak my honest mind on things you probably want left alone.

Sorry. No disrespect. I wish to be honest, just for the sake of being honest. And if that means losing your "respect", I can live with that.

Dad has prostrate cancer. He got the results today.

Now, far as I've been told, it is early and treatable. So. No need to panic or worry. We can get it treated, hopefully.

So, naturally, my mind is trying very hard not to think about it 'cause of my tendency to "snowball" with such thoughts. -.-;; It's not so easy.

Anyway, those of you of the faith, please pray for dad's health, and the family's peace of mind. The devil will try to steal away our joy and peace. He does that. So, rouse the troops and see if we can't get some intervention between us and him.

I should warn you, there are parts of this you may not wish to read. It's not graphic in any sense, but it does contain subject that, if you think about it too much, you will squick yourself. Reader discretion is advised.

* * *

I had the weirdest dream just now. I'm gonna write it up before I forget.

I'm not even sure what all was going on. It's like I was part of a World War II platoon sneaking through enemy territory. Which apparently was some kind of school/stage of some sort. The architecture was a bit mixed up.

Anyway, I forget what happened before I decided to hide in a pipe that wasn't there. I guess there was some Super Mario stuff mixed in; like we were sneakin' past Koopa Troopas. One of them from a patrol actually stopped to stoop down and feel my shoes, remarking on how much they felt like shoes (though I'm not sure if he was a koopa; he did sound American).

Before we go further, I'd like to name this dumkopf after another famous dumkopf, Sergeant Schultz. He deserves it. I mean, unless he was nearly blind in low light, he should've seen me. I could see him.

But he got called away before he could expose me, and a moment later, my platoon moves on, with me jumping down a ledge... and right next to porn of Robotnik, the Warner Brothers and their sister Dot.

....I have no idea why.

In any case, I'm now crouching by a table in a classroom of sorts, even though that makes no sense since it's not lower than the floor I used to come in all of a sudden. And looking around the room, there's porn all over the walls, and much of it not of the sexy kind. It's mostly stuff I find horrific or just plain unattractive, so I try not to look too close (like that one with the roller coaster and the previous characters... eugh). I think a guy I know from some forums was there. American Questor or Otter... I forget. But he's in my platoon and expresses distaste at this raunchy stuff. Either him or someone similar, at least. And I remark to him that it's from not setting the adult filter at Fur Affinity to "No" to stop the porn pics.

I've no idea why this is logical, except to say that I've indeed encountered some truly horrific pornography when bouncing around FA and other similar sites. Some characters just shouldn't have Rule 34 invoked on them. Especially together.

At least I found a couple nice (non-nude) pin-ups of a familiar character. A certain (in)famous bunny boxer who's pretty much divided some of my friends into separate camps over her pics. But at least in these she's clothed, and looks rather beautiful, tossing her hair back, one picture with water flinging off and the other without. If I knew her better, or wanted to risk a former friend's ire, I'd commission them for her. Besides, what's wrong with a woman looking beautiful?

Anyway, things were just about over, though I didn't know it.

The pin-ups mentioned were on a door, which I hid behind. Our platoon gathered around it and were apparently expecting someone or something. Someone came through, and I made the mistake of shutting the door hard behind her. She was an avian anthro, I think, but she was on our side... so I'd just alerted every damn enemy on this floor of our location. Or close to it; sound travels far in school hallways.

We reopen the door and I prepare to ambush whoever comes through. I don't remember standing up, but I did pounce the big guy with muscles and little-to-no hair. Unfortunately, he was followed by some Nazi officer holding a Luger. Won't do me any good to get shot up, so I let go and sorta dance/scamper over to the opposite corner, still close to the group that comes in. Before I can even react, behind the officer comes in...

...Hitler.

I have no idea why, but now things are solidified under the World War II theme. I'm not real sure who we were up against, but they must've been evil to be working with/under Hitler. That is provided they could put up with his inane ranting on My Little Pony or whatever part of the internet has made him snap today.

Don't look at me like that. It's true. I've seen the videos.

In any case, I realize this is actually a good thing, and I point my hand at him in the shape of a gun, I guess to hold him up or something.

It's dream logic. I can't possibly have been thinking straight. I have no magic powers, and I don't think they'll buy the ruse. Doesn't matter anyhow, 'cause I drop it after I see that, after Hitler, walks in...

...Hitler.

Okay, now I've seen this gag. So it makes sense to drop my hand and shake my head. Even I know this can't be serious. He didn't even look like Hitler that much. So, he was either a double... or the real Hitler. After all, with all the romanticizing done in films over the year, I might not expect the real one to look correct.

After this, they bring in some woman, somewhat in her 40's, maybe, wrapped in a blanket... who is apparently a spy of some sort. I don't think she spoke with a German accent, but it hardly matters. She states that she gained her intel by sleeping with one of our guys. I look over at him and he's just grinning, since she admits the sex was pretty good.

(Also, I feel I should state everyone I can see now is human. Not sure what happened to the Bird Lady.)

But because of him, our whole platoon was compromised and our mission exposed. So, even though there's only a couple soldiers in the room (one who snuck in behind me when they brought the woman in), and I don't see any behind my guys, we're pretty much hosed. And at this point, as my vision started to get blurry and I started waking up, I thought up the perfect comeback. I waited my turn and, in a moment of silence, said simply:

"Man, bros before hos!"

Everyone cracked up. At least the platoon did, and they acted like I'd adlibbed a funny line during a play rehearsal, which is kinda what this felt like. They asked me, blinded as I was, if I'd just thought it up. I just tapped my head in response.

And right about then, I woke up, realizing I'd forgotten to charge my phone and thus my alarm did not sound.

Which is why I'm posting this in the afternoon. Darn it. I really should know better than to mess with powder games before bed. I spent hours just staring at that stupid mineral refinery!

Anyway, this was my weird dream for today. Hope you enjoyed.

Now pardon me while I figure out what to do with the other half of my Thursday.

Why do people shun the werewolf?

As an avid fan of werewolves for years, this always bothered me. Time and again, I'd see other monsters, from vampires to zombies, get their own movies, games, books and even heroes. Yet the werewolf? Forgotten. Passed over. Pushed aside. For some reason, the werewolf has never gotten the acclaim or drawn the same fierce interest as other monsters. If there are any werewolf blockbuster movies, I haven't heard of them.

This bugs me. I can't say why. You might as well ask why I like werewolves. As one person pointed out to me, mostly by being an annoying jerk who wouldn't listen, my preference for werewolves is not logical. As he so irritatingly pointed out, there are a lot of supernatural creatures who share similar traits, but not always the dark, bloody history of the werewolf. My love of werewolves is a bit like the urge to write; you can't fully understand it unless you possess it. Even so, the question has burned in me for some time.

I think I finally have an answer.

A while back, I bought a new book. An anthology of werewolf stories, called "Curse of the Full Moon". I enjoyed it quite a bit, though some things I found disagreeable (any preacher that calls God an SOB loses my respect), and others were a little confusing. And now that I've finished it, and reflect upon all I've read, I come back to this point.

"Why do people shun the werewolf?"

"Because, in the end, are we any different?"

And there we are. The answer I've been seeking. And the more I think on it, the more it seems to ring true. I know I've still decades to go before I master wisdom and humility... yet I dare say I may have stumbled upon the truth of the matter.

Think of a werewolf story, any of them. Now, replace the werewolf with a human. Give him or her any abilities needed to play the role, maybe those of a serial killer or a witch, something to ensure they can do what the werewolf does. Except the power to transform. Keep them human. And what do you find? Often enough, humans and werewolves can play the same roles. Monster, hero, antagonist, rebel, enforcer... hell, even some kind of Darth Vader. The werewolf can play so many roles, and the more I think this over, the more convinced I become. I doubt there are few roles that werewolf and man cannot share. Father, mother, sibling, packmate... oh yes, packmate! What else would you call the young men in Australia, the ones who will wade into a bar fight to save a friend, while all the Yankee bastards (possibly myself included) scamper away like little pups with their tails between their legs? The only difference is biology, means and methods. They can play the same roles.

This. This is why werewolves don't get so much loving in the media. On the one hand, they don't seem quite so alien, so enchanting in their inhuman nature. Vampires are corpses who can entrance with a mere gaze. Zombies are less entrancing, but no less dead, and they come in unthinking, unfeeling numbers. Dragons are powerful, lethal and beautiful, terrible as the natural disasters that Eastern cultures portrayed them as. And the werewolf? A human who gets a little hairier and bigger and has anti-vegan tendencies on the full moon? Yawn, snore. Wake me when something good comes along.

Then, on the flipside... if werewolves are so familiar, shouldn't that disturb us? Think about it. Think back to what I said. They can play the same roles as us, from villain to hero to next-door neighbor. About the only role they can't play is that of the hopeless sop, and even then people have written them that way! Look up the Scary Godmother sometime. Harry is practically the poster-boy for furry geeks, minus the sex life (oh, wait, maybe not =P). Even then, the werewolf seems so ridiculous in such a role. A werewolf camping in his mother's basement, resigned to a life of comics, internet and frozen pizzas? We laugh. We laugh because we know he doesn't belong there. It's the one role he cannot truly share with man, not with any sort of seriousness. Because... because...

...because if we treated it with any sort of seriousness, we would have to admit that any human in that situation is also out of place.

This, I think, is the truth of it: that the werewolf is, in reality, a reflection of man's less-civilized nature. Heck, at least two of the stories in my book have no actual werewolves in them... but they do have humans, and they do have monsters, if you can tell one from another. For the werewolf encompasses everything dark and savage in man... yet that is not all he represents, for then whence come Werewolf the Hero? Indeed, if you got right down to it, you'd have to admit that neither werewolf nor man has a perfect, blameless record... and only the werewolf, historically speaking, has a fully evil one.

Perhaps this explains why so many stories place him as the hero. Something in us admires the savage and wild nature of the werewolf (and his many cousins), even going so far, perhaps, to envy his freedom. Few werewolves have ever ended up trapped in a job like Dilbert's. They belong more in the wild, in the forests and plains, the places yet untouched and rarely visited by mankind. And in many ways, I suppose I, and many like me, feel the same way. A cubicle job horrifies me. As necessary as they are, a nine-to-five job has never been to my liking. Even as I question if I'm just being silly since my grandparents and parents have worked with little to no complaint, something within me insists I'm just being honest about this. (Then again, my telepathic, pyschotic vulpine "friend" rants about his honesty too when he's busy pulling apart someone's mind.) I just don't feel at home in such jobs, even if they bring me money and "security". I long for strength and the wildness of nature, and the werewolf nicely sums it up for me.

Even so, I will admit that most werewolf games and movies aren't to my liking (they either get it wrong or use cheesy effects), so part of it may just be no one's done a very good werewolf in those media. Comics and prose are much better at it, though heaven alone knows how many are crap and how many shine. Why some can't bother to put forth a good effort, I don't really know. Most of them are probably just trying to cash in on the mythos.

Still, you get what I'm driving at, yes? This strange correlation between werewolf and man, how they seem to fit so many of the same roles. So it seems to me it may boil down to two things.

Either people find them so familiar that they give werewolves a pass... or they delve a little too deep and find, to their shock and surprise, a pair of all too human eyes staring right back at them.

It's something to consider.

I need a little help here, for both me and a friend.

The more pressing need is my friend's.  Azal.R75 is going to Wild Nights in April. I went with him last year, but school prevents me from joining him this time, and he needs a little support. If there's anyone going who'd like to talk with him and give him a little encouragement, maybe offer to hang out with him at the con, I'd appreciate it. He could use a good friend or two.

Now, at to my need...

I would like to go to AC this year, as the authors of Dreamkeepers, one of my favorite comics in existence (probably my most favorite) are going to be there. My inner fanboy is doing backflips right now. So, I'd like to attend, but a flight from where I live to down there is a good $600, and I'm a poor college student. Unless I can somehow raise the funds between now and the con, it's a bad idea to spend such money. I need that in case my school requires a laptop of me.

So, if there's anyone driving down to AC from my area, I'd appreciate it if I could ride with. Please contact me through notes and give me the details, as well as tell me a little about yourself. I'd like to determine before-hand whether we'll be at each other's throats, and rather not be left stranded because we had a falling out. Not an ideal situation.

In any case, if anyone could get back to me on either of these things, I'd appreciate it. Please try to be civil in our conversations; I won't tolerate those who aren't.

Thanks!