I used to know a horse, whose name I won't bother concealing because, in all serious-less-ness, I doubt he exists as such any more. His name was Renton Nospe, and he was big on the whole roleplay thing--broken childhood, purchased/stolen, tutored, raised lovingly by someone who tried and failed to reeducate him from his habit of whoring himself to his 'master' to show his affection--he even got sick once from licking ink off the floor after he knocked an inkwell over, rather than let the rabbit find out about him.

We roleplayed for a long, long, intimate time, and he was very loving and affectionate, both in and out of character. I reassured him that there was someone in life for him, but he was kind of insistent that we'd know each other forever minus a day. His character was, evidently, a repressed unicorn; and his spectral parents, though disapproving at first, eventually came to ask the rabbit to take good care of the equine, and really properly CARE for him--which he did his admirable best to do.

After he moved, we spoke less frequently, though with just as much happy intimacy as before, reexamining his final moment of breakthrough as a unicorn, roleplaying both normal and personal scenes, all that jazz/blues/polka.

...And then he disappeared.

He never told me why he left. Maybe he just didn't have time for me any more. Maybe he died. I never found out. Maybe he was married all along, and I knew nothing of the matter, but I doubt it.

But I still wonder sometimes where he is, and what he's doing, right then. *sigh*

Hey, this is a little strange to do, but... if any of you have ever heard of this guy, ever--not just my usual watchers, who've never heard of him, but any body out there on FA--know anything about him...
...Gimme a hint?

And now, MORE SNAP JUDGEMENTS ON FETISHES! I know this was the only reason any of you even bothered to start reading this, so I may as well continue. I'll try to avoid overlap, but, well, no promises.

Start with updated alignments HERE WE GO

M/M. Still bi. I lean a little more closer to the boy side of the spectrum.

M/F Eh.

F/F Eh.

M/Other: Hrm. Might be fun or a nightmare.

F/Other: HI JAPAN!


Since I covered most modes I am aware of last time, let's jump into more complex things, like individual fetishes. PS--I'm running out of ones I know. Post requests if you want my Judgment in the next entry of this series. ..Be aware.. this entry will not be for the squeamish, since I nailed most roughly positive fetishes last time. Expect bile. In fact, expect venom. These following things are things I would absolutely, positively, NEVER endorse, role play, or accept as any part of myself. Be warned.

'Honest' bestiality: NO, GOD DAMN IT. I may be represented by a rabbit, but that doesn't mean I am attracted to real world rabbits.

Necrophilia: NO. I cannot say this hard, or long, or intensely enough. No, no, NO.

Pedophilia/Cub: I reject this with every goddamned cell in my body.

Rape-play: I allow that some people enjoy this. I'm not one of those people.

Do you know what the those three have in common? The sharper among you will know what pattern is emerging:

I need consent.

I don't simply mean I employ the consent rule; I don't pretend that, with all my bondage-IM play I am not a hypocrite, but I NEED consent. The first three fetishes listed here are situations in which, traditionally and honestly, consent isn't possible in such scenarios. I avoid rapeplay for this REASON--Being powerless, and FEELING powerless, are things... that bring up incredibly painful memories for me, that can literally make me sick. I make it a very, VERY serious point to always ask--WITHOUT FAIL--any person I engage in if what I am doing to them, with them, ect, makes them uncomfortable, if they're all right with it.

I won't delve into the 'why' of that here. But it explains my next entry.

No consent play: If I engage in this with you, if you do something to me I am clearly uncomfortable with, if I give all hints I am uncomfortable with, but still engage with you? You can be damned sure you're either someone I've loved for a solid chunk of my life, or someone who I've mistaken for above. I don't care how lighthearted it is--there are some things with me.. who I am, what I represent--that are very much sacred to me. Slutty, stupid, internet, furry or not. Violate this principle--and I will detest you for it. It's happened before, and it ended in me telling them, point blank, I refused to engage with them--ever again.

Now that that sheer, harsh, personally bitter memory is out of the way, more positive ones!

Multiple creatures/Orgy: Fun in a bag! If you all know each other, and trusrt each other, this can be boats of fun. Can be exhausting though.

Body alteration: Can also be VERY fun. Minding the consent rule, this can really really *rule*.. though, bluntly put, I like being the bunny I am so good luck getting me to say yes. =p

Incest: Had to study carefully the horrible things mixing familiar and sexual roles can do to people, so I'll paaaasss. Also, I hate my genetic family's guts. =p

More later.

People who rule:

Essrayle. Haya. Clex. People on the mud I play. My real-world betrothed, for putting up with me. People who are all for responsibly free love. Musicians. Artists. Social reformists. People who engineer positive change. The Nega-Pope, who wants to gay marry a stem cell cloned monkey-human hybrid. Freddie Mercury.

People who suck:

People who lie to others about important health issues, like sexual history. People who hurt other people, and continue to do so when they know the repercussions of their actions. My dad, for being a deadbeat. (NOT for being a 40 year old transgendered person, but my my mom for thinking anyone of a non hetro alignment was evil because of their messy, MESSY divorce, and telling me to my face men who liked men were demon spawn and were going to go to hell.) Hoover vacuum cleaners. Kirby, lawl. People who demand your time, rather than ask for it. Sports uber-fanboys who accuse people of being 'queer'. Anti-abortion men who say that they know how the female mind works in all conditions and in all circumstances. Rabid dogs. So-called Christians who wouldn't know 'forgiveness' if they smashed its teeth out with their belt.


People on whom I an undecided on:
Me.

Yeah, so this post is me trying to cheer up. Also, me giving DAMNING EVIDENCE to anyone who's ever known me online by another name. If I ever post suggestive art here, I'll be so doomed.

..You may have noticed I don't sound so serious in this post. That's because many of the things I'm represented by AREN'T serious.

I think I'll spell each name out with a space in it, to foil Google attempts. Starting from the recent, and going all the way back in time;

K O L E M -- A Yellow-shelled Koopa, this is my character in an online game I play which shall remain nameless for reasons of, well... google-foiling. Unlike Springs, this person has surprising abilities; but also a shameful secret that troubles them very, very deeply--and makes them extremely uncomfortable around other Koopas.

Notable abilities--Sore wa hitmu desu. If you really want to learn, ask!

Devon Julius Springs, EMO VERSION--The earliest version of Springs had artifacts, coils he'd put in his originally rotted and malformed feet. This granted him remarkable jumping power, but also could be fired in the midst of a kick--they were more like hydraulic capsule-pumps that worked with his own flesh and blood. They were proved at some point to be soul-confined drakes, who hid themselves so as to not cause pain to Renton Nospe--a unicorn, whose power had the drawback of giving him crippling pain and weakness when exposed to dragonesque lifeforms. Renton has, in and out of of character, been someone springs hasn't seen in at least three years. Also, size queen/sexy fiend/sexual dynamo who favors the laddies but will take on any fine shelia who likes to play, too--though he tends to crash, HARD, when he's lonely.

M y u u: ...Sorry, this one's personal. Also, one of THE LADIIIIES, though everyone involved knew the 'real' me, so no creepy factor there... she's still around. Though pissed at me.

D o v e w i n g: A chimera of dispiraite elements, represented as a child with full-blown angel wings most times and as--embarrassing confession here--an anthropomorphic vaporeon morph with humanesque legs and aforementioned wings. He swims using his waterproof wings like a manta's, along with powerful tail and leg kicks, and flies klutzily--though an EXPERT glider. His takeoffs and landings could use work, as he's a bit hodgepodgy. These days, he serves very rarely as my conscience, and as an absolute and ironic representation of the concept of purity. He's utterly non-sexual as a char, but I like him, 'cos he's genuinely nice.

R a z o r: ...sore wa hitmu desu. ...not nice. also... not here so much any more.

G O L E M:Whoo boy.

This is someone I have run as, have lived as online, for years on top of years on top of years, ten plus EASILY. Anthropomorphic stone-like man, usually quiet and reserved, with a heart of fire you don't really see much of--but that, when lit, will burn for a person forever with no regret at all. This... is honestly the focus and birthplace of and forerunner to every other character I have ever played as. Just ask Essrayle or anyone else who's known me for a long time.

SO. Four-zero tonight, and I enter a fifth card game, hoping to break the bad-luck and poor-play streak, KNOWING I can do it, making the plays, not drawing horrible at all--five SPELL cards, honestly, none of which are any use alone!--And knowing how exactly to win...

...and the person I'm engaged to, upstairs, breaks down and sinks into a sobbing fit.
...because she didn't get to cuddle me as the others were all up, and feels like I can only be really freely happy when she's not around, or some other reason that can only make sense in an insecure person's mind--I have lots myself, so I know how they are--and by the time I get back, the other person has understandably and rightfully put his cards up.

God damn it.

Tonight, I just can't win.

Honestly? Sometimes, I DO feel like I'm not allowed to be happy around her! EVERY TIME I GET CLOSE TO BEING HAPPY, SHE ENDS UP FREAKING MISERABLE! ><

..sorry. I.. just kinda wanna scream.

...I don't mind losing games, but... ..losing at being able to help those I care about.. that's the thing that ticks me off.

There are some nights when anger wells inside of me. Some nights when I feel my heart just WRENCH, over and over again. I don't know if I'm angry at myself, or at the world. What kind of world is it, anyway?! When people have to go to do thing sthey hate to do, all day, almost every day, to clutch to the little they have? If all the years to come have to offer me is that--just YEARS of being the same damn person, with all the same bottled rages, all the same hidden tears, all the same wish I could bes, all the regrets---

Death, I wish you'd come for me now!

...the only way to bite my anger back is to convince myself I can change it all, somehow. Even now, I feel so unwelcome, so... just... so much like, despite having a house and home, like there's no where on earth I belong.

But even there, I'm not alone. I'm sure. Hah. What I'd give... what I'd give to find out what it is I like to do, and how I could survive, and just do that.

When I was young, I once heard something whisper to me--would you sell your soul for this?--while I was playing a silly game. I said no, no, besides, I didn't and couldn't win even with it, but the fact the question was asked--right before I GOT The thing--has always, always scared me, just a little.

Is there someone or something out there that wants my soul that badly?

I was watching Hyadain's videos on Youtube--a practice I must HEAVILY, HEAVILY endorse--when I stumbled over a piece called 'My first friend'. Thinking it was a lovely sounding piece, I decided I'd look to the subtitled translated version first.

What I found was something beautiful, sad, and heartrending, and that opened a memory of mine that I really don't often access.

I was very young, extremely so, when we had Berlin. She was a strong, healthy beagle, and I remember, even as young as five or six years old, being able to curl up aside her and rest my head on her, rubbing her flank with my hand. She never objected, and seemed to always know when it was I needed comforting, in a way no dog since ever has. She was large as I was, or thereabouts, and I remember feeling that, although the people around me were full of secrets, and anger, and all sorts of darkness, there was no room in her heart for any malice at all.

Even now, though I don't remember how she looked that well, I remember how she felt.

My world was confusing, and dark, and scary, and the people I was supposed to love had no love for me. But animals... they just KNEW, good or bad, the way people know if it's warm or cold, no matter how well I hid it from people--and hid myself from people.

Berlin died before I was ten years old. She died of cancer, and I hope the pain wasn't terrible for her--I was too young to really understand. It rends my heart to think of her now, still looking at me with a bemused, curious look, like a puppy that didn't belong to her. Maybe I was. But in a world where people knew boundless ways to be cruel without seeming to be, in a world I wasn't welcome, I found a spot of light by associating myself with a creature that wasn't human at all.

I've not had a dog since. I've been around dogs, but never owned one. It never felt right--In part because I'm not a fan of the hyper, stupid mutts my family owns, but also in part because that memory is something I cherish, something I don't think I can ever replace.

Every time, every time my family spoke of replacing a pet that had died, I hated them for it. You don't REPLACE living things. You can't. All you do.. is meet new ones.

Stolen unabashedly from  hayatoru.

If you feel like it, respond to the questions. Or don't. BUT YOU WON'T GET THE MYSTERY PRIZE IF YOU DON'T!

1) Do you like me as a friend?
2) Do you love me?
3) Do you have a crush on me?
4) Whats one good thing about me?
5) Is there anything you want to tell me?
6) If you had one wish for me, what would it be?
7) Whats your best memory of me?
8) Have I ever done anything nice for you?
9) Have I ever affected your life for the good?
10) Would you kiss me?
11) Would you do me?
12) Has there ever been a time you wanted to kiss me and didn't?
13) On a scale of 1-10 (10 being the sexiest), what would you rate me as?
14) Is there anything you'd like to change about our relationship?
15) What are 3 words that you would use to best describe me?
16) Will you post this so I can do it for you?

So, recently, I've been reexamining why my avatar is a rabbit. I've been noted to have a fiendishly devilish imagination, and there is certainly no short order of creatures that would suit my craven intimacy tastes more appropriately than a rabbit would; so why--why on earth a brown haired, simply mundane bunny? I've mentioned why I 'started' as one. So why stay as one?

I have a couple of reasons, to be honest. The first is that, simply put, just another rabbit is forgettable. I have no tentacles, no mind-controlling superpowers, no ability to spontaneously inflict being gravid unto males (though that last one sounds almost perversely fun, in a punishing sorta way), though I indulge many, many things in fantasy. This is based off something a writer I consider closer than a family member told me, a long ling time ago, sort of a litmus test for role-play: Take your character concept--The super-powers, the super-absurd color scheme, the pink eyes and sparkles and "OMG SO HAWT" ability to seduce anything under the sun just by batting your eyelashes--and dump it. Seriously, dump all of it. Give them brown hair, and brown eyes, and ask yourself:

"Is there still anything to this person?"

Since I myself am being represented, sort of, I think that if Springs is memorable, it's not because of special abilities or secret undercover uberpowers or sexy sexy bodies, but... because I'm a person, who shares hopes, dreams, desires, and has a fun time doing it. It connects with my thoughts on life: If there isn't any reason for springs to be, springs simply ISN'T. ...That's happened a lot lately, and I regret it. It's something I've stuck to, though... and everyone I've ever had dealings with who has remembered me, well.. I've treasured memories of them, too. Flash can distract people, but substance is what I remember.. and dream of.

There's one final reason. I have a hard time really putting it into words, but if I had to try, I'd compare it to the following story: A man once climbed an incredible mountain. He suffered tremendous loss along the way--he took grave injuries, and at times thought he would not survive to descend again. All the same, as he managed to scrabble to the ledge closest to the top of the mountain, with a view that overlooked the whole of the land in all its incredible majesty--and, as he collapsed against the wall, his hand found purchase on a dandelion. A dandelion, hundreds of thousands of spiraling feet in the air, at the tip of a mountain, one just like he'd seen hundreds of people decry as a weed, one that people were ever trying to get rid of and only curbing. He sat there for some time, admiring the dandelion in all its simple elegance,

He reflected on his life. For all the triumph making it up the hill alive give him, for all the struggle and sacrifice, for everything--one lone dandelion had reached the peak long before he, judging by how well it was rooted. Humblest of flowers, so common, so silly--and yet here, in the harshest chill, it lived, because it chose to live on no matter where and no matter how.

He made it home, because he saw truth in that one moment.

So tomorrow morning I have a job interview at eleven AM. Not a problem, I suppose, and for some reason I literally broke into tears when I heard it. I don't know why, though some of my theories are less savory than others--do I genuinely not WANT to work? Why should I be upset if it takes time I would otherwise perhaps use unwisely?--but I got over that. I have a fairly strong feeling I'll succeed in the interview; I only have to convince them I'm worth rehiring. (I worked at this place during the last seasonal rush. Mindless consumerism, rah rah rah.)

I do look forward to knowing I won't stay broke, but I'm not exactly broke to start with--I have about 500 USD tucked away, which is enough for a few weeks. I do need wheels, yet. That's a can of worms I hesitate to open; I have enough trouble steering myself, let alone a ton of steel going at 60 mph. I also tend to be looser with my money than perhaps I should be--but now that someone significant in my life has their school loan, I may be able to save up.

I think I'm unhappy in my relationship.

I don't know what prompted me to say that. I know I'm far more sexual in nature than my significant other, and it worries me that their body treats them as it does sometimes. But at some fundamental level, I don't know if that's it. I can't pin it down, either. I love the person very, very much. Of this I am certain. But I feel...

Well, I don't want to say 'Shackled'. I might enjoy that, one day; I certainly haven't tried it. I think the more accurate phrasing is 'assumed'. I feel... well, I feel kind of--not NEGLECTED, to be certain, but... assumed. Assumed to be there, assumed to be okay with whatever they want, assumed to be fine with a life I may not be ready for or want.

Why am I writing this?

Okay, what am I so scared of? So I might get a decent job, and it might be a few years before I can seriously consider college. So I might not be able to purchase and practice keyboarding (Musical, mind) or sketching. I wasn't doing those things anyway. ...even if I often want to. So I might only know full sexual contact with one human being my entire life. So I might grow dull and uninteresting. So I might become a standard guy from this country, dull, slow-witted, fat, two point five kids, two cars, with--

I'm shaking. I'm physically shaking, although it seems to be receding now.

Is a GOOD LIFE so terrifying, me? Remember what it was almost like--no home, no roof, no friends, no dreams. You could have had that! Be grateful!

...I don't dance as much as I used to. I don't sing. There's always someone around. I don't write as much as I used to. I don't draw. I don't even play sexually online with people who I care deeply about, which I used to do and enjoy, and I feel like something in me is dying.

What in god's name is wrong with me?

Maybe a good night's sleep will clear my head.

Rituals hold a disturbing amount of sway over my life. I wake up, I shower, I eat, I play games. I don't leave the house much. I look for work, or, if I have a temp job, go to work, come home later, and nothing seems to shift. But is this what I really want? I mean, can it be? I know at some level, I'm not content--there's a brooding certainty in everything I do that there's something I am avoiding.

So what has to change? In many ways, life seems to be like an algebra problem--I wish, very badly, my maths lessons continued past algebra, but at the time divorce and movement proved that impossible--in that in life, much as in an algebraic problem, the only way to solve for a variable is to change variables until one makes the statement, or life experience you have, the one you WANT to have.

But is that all there is to it?

I suppose that a lot of people do that, that they jump through 'This doesn't make me happy, so maybe that will' hoops until the day they die. But what if there's a simpler solution? Is it possible to make your 'problem' I = happiness? ...I might try that. I think I will. Just to tell myself, 'I am happy', and if I start to doubt, to come up with reasons I AM happy, rather than look for something to make it the case.

Hum. I missed writing. I'll do this more often.

Fuck adulthood. No, seriously. Screw being a grown up in the ASS. It sucks. Resposibility for a day after tomorrow sucks, too. Doing what you have to even if you don't want to also sucks, which is why I often screw up, I think. But I do it anyway, even when I don't want to, even if I'd rather be anywhere else, doing ANYTHING else. I wonder if I'm screwed up for thinking in such a naive and childish way, sometimes. Wondering if I want the life I've fallen into, or if my answer hasn't come to light yet. I enjoy so little besides sketching and gaming, these days.

If I felt like I was making a difference in someone's life, it might be different. And if She ever reads this, she'll claim of course I change her life every day, but that's *just not what I mean*--And besides, sometimes I get the vibe she wouldn't do anything different if I wasn't here, or, heck, be happier for it. When I was young, I believed I was destined to change the world--I had to believe that, I thought, because if I was destined to just be another NPC out there, I'd never be able to live with myself. In one way, that's why I hunger for the intimate connection with people--I want to make a difference in their lives. I want to make the world better for them. Is this a screwed up way to think?

I don't know why my mind has been working in such a selfish way. I can't explain it properly. I do know I sometimes don't take advantage of opportunities I should, though... I should start taking more risks.

I miss everyone online when I can't come on and chat for one reason or another. Is it indicative that even now my on;y real 'life' is confined to the 'net? Or am I just too comfortable, and taking too much for granted?

Sorry for my expression, if any of you bothered to read this far. I'm just trying to get what's going on inside me, and it's a rocky road.

Connecticut rules.

By this I mean:

People can attempt to repress the rights of any group in America, and even be depressingly successful for quite some time.

But an African-American is our president elect, and his toughest opponent from his party--in terms of nomination--was the wife of a former president.

Rights will be hard fought, and the fighting will be bitter, but they will be won, in the end. This country is capable of producing remarkable people and ideals--not always positive ones, but I hope that changes.

Rights for human beings, others as well as yourself, are what I believe to be the essential fundamental building blocks of any ethical belief.

Swiped from Essrayle.

'Fursona' Name:
Devon Julius Springs

Sex:
Straight-up male, no surprises.

Sexual Preference:
Bi, with heavy male leanings--but not gay, due to the capacity to be sexually attracted to and emotionally bonded to women, though it rarely happens.

Role Preference:
Switch. More than switch--'Adaptable'. Some would call me open minded, but I disagree; there are some lines I do not and will not cross.

Defining Marks:
Hmm. Cream-colored belly and inner thigh fur, leaning to dusty brown in autumn; with main coat being a brightly-sheened brown, light brown; somewhere between tan and medium-dim.

Special Characteristics:
--Fickle. Really really fickle.
--Alarmingly sharp memory when it comes to 'encounters'.
--Eeeeeeemooo. (Just kidding! And on that note, a lousy sense of humor.)
--Um. Rabbity?

Misc. Details:
--Eager to 'explore'. Somewhat picky as to where and how, though--so don't feel bad if you get gently turned down.
--Tends to avoid outright rejecting peoples.
--SPOKEN. FOR. No, I am not kidding, no, I am not flexible on this point. But if you can stand that, I'll be your friend forever; I have too many old flames that catch my heart, mind, and body on fire as it is.


Canon Forms(Canon forms are any form that your fursona can assume that they are actually capable of assuming):

Pretty much just the one. I may branch out later.

Non-Canon Forms(Non-Canon forms are any form that your fursona can assume that isn't actually something they can do):

Uh. Er. Oh my. no stories here. << Um. Er. None! None, and don't you believe Haya or Ess for a minute! >> <<

Fursona Origin (How you came to making them and certain differences from the original version)

When I was creating my avatar for Furcadia, thinking it'd be just another chat room in essence, I looked through all the options, and none of them felt as... right... as the Rabbit choice. I wanted to set it completely opposite most of the things I'd played as before in other settings, which were beefy/tankish/monstrous creatures. It's actually kind of funny, because in his own way, Springs is stronger than any other person I have played.

As for changes from the original? Well, Springs was named so originally because he had originally suffered atrophing of the muscular tissue due to deformed bone in his legs below the knees--one which he wound up correcting with self-inflicted, raw surgery which really wouldn't be feasible, during which he inserted relics found in a library in the mountains into his legs. ..Yeeeah, long, silly, ugly, dramatic story, and I abandoned it for FA, 'cause the one fur who interacted with them to any degree kinda.. dropped me after I encouraged him to persue his future. yah. ~~ Drat you, Ren. I hope you're okay out there.

Anything Else You'd Like to Add:

--Mal, Renton, Serric, Bee, hell, PANDORA if you're out there, why not, I have not forgotten any of you. B. from the bar, I remember you. Mr. Giraffe who had some fun involving a playful competition? I remember you, too. To all you countless folk from the Pens, I may well remember you--but there were many of you, too many to list here.

And I don't regret a one of you.

Not a one.

Still out for the same reasons.

Hey, Fur affinity writers. This is a special message--from me to you, to all of you. It may not apply to some; it may not matter to others, but for reasons for catharsis I simply must say it: It's called a god damned paragraph, for fuck's sake! Learn to use it!! Yeah. I don't know what if anything is running through some of your minds when you choose to expose people to pages upon pages of justified, no-line-breaks, eye-gouging text, but it is not good. I can no longer endure a full page of unbroken text, let alone two to three, that's supposed to be fiction! FICTION!

See, paragraphs help create flow. They allow the eye to rest, to keep its place in a long story or document, and they separate overarching ideas that into differing groups, and do other wonderful things. So: why? Why avoid them like the plague, why cause my eye to twitch like someone has emptied their sandbox into it? I confess readily I am not a writer fundamentally, but this seems like bad practice to me. Perhaps it's a format issue, but if you're using .doc, it is inexcusable. Even word porn deserves better than to be a hideous blotch of text that intimidates the reader.

Sorry to be so bitchy, everyone. My work search is not going well. --_--

I am not likely to be available for some time.

The reasons are personal, but if you know me well enough here--which is to say at all--you know how to contact me, if you'd like to know why.

CAUTION: THIS IS LIKELY TO OFFEND YOU

I posted a long time ago that I was a spiritual agnostic, but that that was another post; so I decided to make one.

I have little issue with Religions. I disbelieve them rather sternly, and they tend not to zap me with lightening, so we get along okay. I say things like "Dear God WHY' not as a matter of expressing actual BELIEF in Christianity's Big-G God, but in an effort to get an answer from something, somewhere, possibly even myself. No, the problem comes when some terrible FORCE comes to the forefront: the problems come when Religions get Organized. (Yus, capital O organized.)

Before I continue, I am going to tell you all a story which may explain how my obviously warped perspective (Since it is, after all, quite possibly, different from yours; rather it is almost positively different from yours). I came out of a broken home, and, in my youth, my rebellion was blamed on demonic possession rather than the things that were likely to blame--my parent's divorce, the abuse in the childhood, this, that, the other thing, things my family were, y'know, ACCOUNTABLE for. A priest came to my house, and said he would exorcise the demons from me. His method of doing so was holy oil to the forehead. ..then a chokehold. If I gagged, it meant I was possessed.

Yeah, I'm a little pissy about that.

I am not going to discredit any religion of any reader I have here, even if I can honestly say I believe they are DAMN CRAZY. What I *will* say is this: Living as I do in the United States of America, I have known several people who make a havit of looking across the ocean at, say the middle east--by which I mean WEST--where adultery gets you hanged and thievery can get you tortured or beaten to death, and they act shocked--SHOCKED--anyone could act that way, thank goodness we live HERE, all the while oblivious to the fact that there are--and this next bit is very important--people who would do those exact same things, here, gladly, if it was permitted. And I don't MEAN the whackos or crazy extremists your mind may conjure upon reading that.

When a society--no, scratch that. When a GROUP OF PEOPLE, bound by a set of beliefs, sets one type of action as 'immoral', it is perfectly normal for them to radically reject those who behave in such a manner. You don't believe me, eh? Okay, quick test:

A man murders his wife and four year old daughter in cold blood.

Does he deserve to die?

This example, extreme though it is, proves two things: One, that that mechanic exists in our minds, and two, that it serves a purpose--protecting the group, in this case our race, from some competing ideal. These can be completely detrimental and obviously false--it is acceptable to murder, to inconsequential--Plaid is a fine fashion statement.

It is because that mechanic exists in all of us, and does so in such force as to be unavoidable, that I avoid organized religion. Yes, I have my opinions about morality, as does every other human being. I just don't want those opinions decided by committee.

So as of the past two weeks, I have been working as a temp at a bank, sorting donations for a Major American Party. In fact, let's drop any pretense of anonymity for a moment: I have been sorting donations for the RNC, or Republican National Convention, an organization whose stances I very adamantly oppose in many cases. People have been donating hundreds of dollars, while adamantly complaining about the way the the campaign has been run. While I do not mean to be 'partisan'--a GARBAGE term in my opinion; as the broad range of political ideals is something that has been pathetically dumbed down in American elections--there are advertisements that border on propaganda.

I have been exposed to racism, bigotry in the form of religious statements that certain segments of the political and personal spectrum are going directly to hell with no option of redemption, and 'surveys' that prey upon the fears and preexisting prejudices that lurk within people's minds. I am positive, however, that the Democratic party also has unpleasant tactics--in fact, I would wager money on it, which is why I registered independent. I think the most significant thing, however, is that the partu collection agency has not edited its mailing list in mukltiple years--since 98, or longer, judging by the "Dead since' furious letters enclosed with multiple donation forms.

I have come to realize, over the course of the advice of my coworkers--throw all the letters away, just find the checks, move on, keep working...

NO ONE CARES.

Petitioning groups with money is ineffective. They take the money, and shed the statements and the sentiments you attatch to it like so much wasted paper. And this makes me feel so... so DARNED MAD! Letters, even insensitive, offensive, obscene letters, are written to be read. There was a heartbreaking two page letter about how devastated a republican woman was that the party was pushing to overturn Roe. And this is my horrible secret: I can't not care. I can joke, and I can play, but those statements and stories are calling out to me, even if I oppose them utterly.

...I think I'm a little more thoughtful today because some jokester sent cornstarch in a mock attack, assuming us to be John McCain, like so many do. I don't.. know what to think any more.


PS: Lovely lover of mine, who has the heart of the divine, I wish I could be on more often. ~.~ I even had to work through Halloween... my favorite holiday. I look forward to spending more time with you when I can, though...

I am primarily posting this for the benefit of a friend or two of mine before I have to go back to the task at hand. Simply put, I have been advised by a friend that if I do not have some form of work within two weeks, the person in charge of this household is very likely to tell me I can no longer live here.

This is something of an issue, as I have nowhere else to go in the nearest 400 miles; as such, failure is not an option for me right now--and I apologize to those I might slight, but I have difficulty focusing, and have isolated myself a bit for that reason.

Thank you for all you've told me and taught me, if this doesn't work out...
...heh...

It starts innocently enough, I suppose. My thought process is nice and simple... in the beginning. "I'm a bit peckish. I think I'll see what we have to eat."

Then it continues.

"Hmm. Dried out old white rice. I hear it's possible to refresh that with water in the microwave. I'll try that."

"Homn. Needs another go around."

"Third time's the charm. Extra water this time, and for longer."

"Good, good! Not the best, but edible. Some butter, melts quick, still hot... Now, I wonder if we have parsley?"

"Mm, parsley flakes. Getting better, now, some salt, pepper.. I smell lemon. I wonder if we have lemon juice?"

I still think I maybe should have added more, and wish I had some shrimp.

Exactly what it says on the tin.

I am tired. I am tired of asking myself why nothing changes. I am tired of asking myself why everything I begin lies unfinished in a ruckus around me. I am tired of pretending to be someone I am not, and something I am not. I am tired of hearing 'Just a few minutes, and then I will'. I will not accept it any longer.

I intend to wake up tomorrow. In the damnable MORNING. I intend to wake to the sound of my radio, to eat breakfast--a proper breakfast, no more of this grazing garbage, one comprised of eggs and toast or perhaps bacon. I intend to wash myself after, not before, finding a change of clothes, and spending the day doing things that make a god damned DIFFERENCE in my life. I will kiss my loved one, and send in my voter registration card, and look for work for four hours solid.

I will meditate. I will *NOT* distract myself--not with games; not with the internet, not with snack food, not with anything. I will pick up my neglected sketchbook, and start--AND FINISH--at least three practice pieces. I will, if and only if, after doing all these things I still have time, play games before bed. Tuesday, I will clean my room without stop until I can vacuum at least half the floor. Wednesday is a way off yet, but when this goes according to plan--AND IT WILL GO ACCORDING TO PLAN--I will plan for wednesday.

The time has come, and the wind is shifting.

So I was paid today.

They opened the register and handed it all to me in cash.

I am absolutely exhausted, and advised I should *NOT* go back in. period, by those I live with. My mind is wrenched.

Should I break my word?

Should I work, likely for no pay?

I don't know any more...

People wonder, sometimes, where talent comes from. This is my answer:

SHEER BRUTE FORCE.

People don't have 'talent'. They have inspiration, sometimes, and I have observed in every 'talented' person I have ever seen that there is one unyielding constant: Those people have worked, and intentionally improved, at their choice. And people like me, who used to say 'I wish I was as talented', or 'I could never do something like that', or worst of all 'What's your secret'... we need to become aware of the fact that there are no shortcuts. There is no secret.

This is not something I find discouraging, though. Because there ARE no shortcuts, and is no 'talent', there is no reason--none at all, ever, barring unusual circumstances like missing hands--to claim that we'd never be able to do something of a quality or a degree of depth that another person does. It may take us years, but it is never impossible.

I needs ta go to work, tho.

I now get more pleasure from music I have never heard before, well-constructed, intensely emotional music, than I EVER have from sex. (I hope my partners disagree, but I find this is true for me.) This is true both for reasons that it takes a lot to get me to enjoy a sexual experience--emotional connection, intimacy, and trust, which is hard enough for me to establish away from the screen, let alone on it--and the fact that I am a MONSTEROUS audiophile and have secret primal urges to buy a keyboard and learn to play.

Sometimes, to break you out of what you have been doing, to make you really see what you want to be, and want to do, all you need to free you is a little something new.

Open your eyes today. Look at the world around you. Have you been down this road before? This is my secret ambition: To be a musician.

I want to draw. I want to create art. I have for a long, long time, because in me, I hear voices begging to tell their stories, and pleading to be heard. I have not, I have been afraid, I have inched away, hid away, pretended to be something else.

But I can not hide who I am in this place. I want to create beautiful, inspiring things. I want the world to have a moment where it sees one thing, just ONE THING I have done--and it smiles. It doesn't have to last forever, perhaps it doesn't even need to last a day. But I won't hide my own dreams any more.

I shy away from the things I need, because the voices in my mind tell me I need to be responsible, and I do. But does pretending not to dream really make sense to YOU?

Find it, find that moment where words and images and sound unite. I found that moment, and I found it tonight.