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 Posted: Tue Jan 01, 2013 12:25 am
Jan. 1, 2013
NEW BEGINNINGS
I know. I know. Cliche as hell. No originality. Without surprise.
And yet, I implore you to look past the almost childish and vomit-inducing start to this journal/novel/ramble/challenge thing, and see the (albeit pathetic) poetry of this moment, of the birth of this journal/novel/ramble/challenge thing.
This year begins 2013. A fresh, new year ready to be mutilated and abused to the point of no recognition. Of course, good stuff will happen, and it will grow and prosper like a proper year should, but, hey, unless world peace is achieved or something of the like, this year will just be another year added to the ones before it under the category name: Darkness.
I really don't know where I'm going with this, but maybe that's how beginnings should be. Sporadic. Random. An explosion of meandering and inital pointlessness. Hopefully, I'll get more creative soon and begin to create more meaningful and sensible posts in the future.
Not to say that this post itself has no meaning. Like I said: After all, this is 2013. I don't mean to shower it in narcissm nor inflate it to the point of impossible expectation, but the meaningful part in this is something I'll point you directly towards:
Beginnings, like all things, are prone to subjection and versatility. Much like this challenge, its (personally) probably going to be a horrible mish-mash of unknown, un-understandable, and uncreative POS that'll ever hit the internet.
Oops, narcissm.
But, hey, it's a new beginning. Not only to the year, but to this journal, to a rebirth of my obsessions over becoming J.K. Rowling 2.0, and many other things (babies are being born today, black holes are becoming stars today, the birth of a new year is also the birth of everything and the rebirth of everyone and everything).
Welcome, 2013. Welcome Challenge. Welcome stranger who is reading this.
Welcome to all the beginnings that occurred on the beginning of this new starting year.
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Posted: Tue Jan 01, 2013 5:30 pm
Jan 2, 2013
Cause/Effect
I don't feel very "writey" today. This horrible, mind-deadening effect I feel is a product of a "cause" called homework.
This homework entailed reading that detailed a myriad of cause and effects. Particularly, the abolition of a certain thing called apartheid at the hands of a super-cool African by the name of Nelson Mandela (this is not his real name, it is his essentially his Christian name from school). He is a very strong product of cause/effect, from the death of his father causing his adoption by a wealthy African man, which in turn caused his obtaining a great education, which in turn fueld his desire to end African opression, which lead to, eventually, the end of segregation in South Africa.
Everyone and everything is a cause and an effect, not one or the other, and almost paradoxically, is the manfiestation of a myriad of cause and effects themselves. Everything touches everything. Nothing appears from nowhere.
Nothing exists without anything else leading to its existence.
Everything causes. Everything is an effect.
Everything is connected.
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Posted: Thu Jan 03, 2013 9:38 pm
Holy shizz. I suck. Ughhh. Tiny posts are tiny. Regardless, I'll just keep pushing. After a few seconds' thought, I decided to make each and every post a story, though knowing my indecisiveness this is probably a moot point to make.
Jan 3. 2013
Peace of Mind
The two sit across from each other, the stone table between them cold and uninviting (although stone tables aren't very kind to begin with). The mood in the room matches accordingly.
Amongst this uncomfortable atmosphere, stands me, dressed in my usual, unfitted and sloppy grey suit, complete with a frayed tie and missing buttons. Hey, that's what these people get for $22 an hour: a cheap divorce lawyer.
However, I may be cheap, but I'm not awkward. I've done this so many times that the animosity of the situation doesn't even faze me anymore. Of course, I still take up my appropriate role as the support between the two, unstable pillars of soon-to-be-exes.
Though the other two in the room may feel anger, grief, regret, or any other emotion within the conglomerate associated with divorce, I feel serene and peaceful sickeningly enough. Maybe it comes with the monotony, but doesn't that usually entail boredom?
Oh. That's it.
Boring peacefulness.
So, my peace of mind in divorce isn't exactly the most exciting thing, especially when you do this almost 24/7 (or maybe 12/4 to be more accurate), so you do want a little excitement in your life. Y'know, just to break routine. And my routine was to break marriage routines. Maybe that's why divorcees came to be. They're routine must have hit an incredibly unbearable point.
I stare between the two, and my monotonous peace of mind briefly shook with annoyance. I wished deep within my soul for them to sign the damn papers already, so I could go. They've been glaring daggers for the past two minutes.
Instead, what I got was the ex-husband divorcing not his wife, but his life.
The previously unsigned contract lay signed in blood, with a crazed wife waving a loaded gun, screaming at me: "YES! YES! OH GOD, YES! WE CAN'T DIVORCE NOW BECAUSE HE CAN'T SIGN THE PAPERS EVER! WE'LL BE TOGETHER FOR ETERNITY! YESYESYESYES!"
Well, at least she found her peace of mind.
And I lost mine. For good.
---
Ooh, I usually don't do anything so macabre, so this was kind of fun to do creepily enough. Anyway, I've realized a theme in almost all my writings, though it may be too premature to announce but I'll do it anyway biggrin People are different. They have different opinions and views. This will always be true. Hmm, actually that may have just been a theory. Haha.
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Posted: Fri Jan 04, 2013 11:43 pm
Jan. 4, 2013
Childhood Memories
Walking along a suburban road, with a young dog plodding behind him, Harry Everett's mood didn't match the innate peaceful atmosphere of the environment. For one, his mother and father had just divorced. Two, his girlfriend had dumped him for some secret, online lesbian living two houses down from his oddly enough. And three, his dog had died.
So, he got a new one.
"Godammit! I hate breaking in! Stay on yo lea-- OH SHI-!" half-cursed the cursed man for his dog had just broken free of his collar and bounded down the sidewalk, but (to Harry's relief) stayed safely on the sidewalk.
Well, as safe as you could be if you'd rather substitute a wiener dog harassing an old lady in her garage sale over a dog vs. car situation.
"Oh my!"
"Sorry, ma'am!"
"BARK! BARK!"
The old lady softened at the arrival of the dog's owner, while the dog relaxed once the lady started petting him. She held up a hand to silence the man before him, who had been caught in mid-apology, and told him that she understood and didn't need any explanation, as all old folk seemed to have a sort of mystical intuition about them.
And, like most old folk, proceeded to bore them with a story that related slightly to the situation, and yet held an important life lesson behind it.
"Y'know, I had a dog like this before when I was a kid. It was a beautiful, red one, but my parents weren't too fond of it. To be honest, they weren't very fond of anything besides each other.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Harry didn't need direct information to catch the innuendo of the statement.
"Don't be! It wasn't physical. Just emotional. And it was fine, I was fond of my dog and she was fond of me. We used to hold such nice conversations too, though the only words she really knew were-"
"Bark?"
"BARK!" answered the dog.
"Yes, that and I love you. Y'know, I really loved that dog and was so sad, when it passed away. I took it with me, y'know, when I left my parents."
"That's mighty fine of you, Miss."
"Bark! Bark!" agreed the dog.
"Why thank you, you two!" she chuckled good-naturedly, "It's funny. Most people would say that a childhood is shaped by your parents... and yet, it's so much more than that. A dog raised me. Oh, my. Don't I sound like one of those feral children?"
The dog nuzzled her. The man smiled. He didn't feel as angry as he did before what had occurred.
The woman looked towards the two of them, and noticed a leash in the man's hand attached to a broken-beyond-repair collar.
"Y'know, I have just the thing to fix you two up. Gotta pay you for listening to an old lady's stories."
The dog and his owner both attempted to deny such a gift, but it was moot to do so.
And they watched helplessly, but affectionately as the lady fished out among her piles of cardboard boxes a frayed, but beautiful collar.
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Posted: Sat Jan 05, 2013 10:42 pm
Jan. 5, 2013
Speed
I'm typing this super fast because I want to finish it super fast. Quite frankly, I'm getting tired of doing this everyday. I'm just losing steam fast, which is pathetic really, but I can't help what I feel.
Sorry about my complaining. It's always been like this with me. I tend to be pretty fast in everything I do. And with that, comes me becoming incredibly bored with everything quickly.
It's horrible, but I can't help what I feel.
Well, actually I can, but I like to use that as an excuse.
Heh. I've been typing so fast I've had to backspace a lot to correct some words. Y'know, I like doing things fast largely because they're finished quickly (with a rather crappy quality, as you can probably tell with my above posts).
Gosh, I'm supposed to be writing a story, but here's my pathetic, unneeded angst.
I'll try to write a better post tomorrow.
Promise.
And at a slower pace.
Because though experiencing life at a fast pace may be comfortable for me, I think it's about time I try it a bit slower, just to delve into the taste a bit more.
I mean, I got about 100 years tops.
No need for speed.
---
oh god, this sucked
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