Tell tale.

To let myself sit and write. My subconscious control my thoughts. Thoughts are scripted into action. My actions dominate my feeling. My feeling fuels my subconscious. There are other ways. Alcohol breaks down the conscious and fuels desires. The desire to love, commune and seek redemption from the norm. Yet cut down by the double edge sword. Alcohol justifies lust, rowdy behavior and making an arse of yourself. The next morning is then followed by loss of memory and the cogitation process is replaced with necessity of hydration. And searching for car keys. This effectively rules out the possibility of mankind progressing intellectually by getting hammered. Who knew ?

Then returning to work the following day and discovering that the world did progress. Without you. People having conflicts of the heart and people fell in love. Reading how people have found there special people in there lives. I could compare it to the shots stroh 80 that someone dispensed unto my person.(I actually do know who it was and will return the favor). I used the term could as to indicate that I haven't. Yet. The reason is to avoid seeming petty and jealous.
Seeming is better than being after all. Then they really get annoying by rubbing salt cured daggers into my wounds by complaining about their lovely predicament. Eish.

Nuff complaining. On the bright side are the insights gained from the so called status updates. Relationships? Whats love got to do with it ? As much as I dislike other people's happiness it does deliver some insight to the human psyche. For instance. Would you love someone if you knew every secret in their lives ? Do you love someone less if you keep all those secrets from them ? I have some pretty deep dark secrets that nobody knows but me. And I'm trying my best not to know those secrets myself. On the flip side. I have erased any evidence of my past misdeeds so she can probe all she wants. These dark tales from my past has no influence on my present self. And thus no reason for recalling.

Then again learning from peoples past is what we do. We will suck the life out of any piece of information we can get and cringe and shudder and secretly enjoy our victory of finally knowing the truth. Justifying our actions with noble intent. Why other people do this is a mystery. The reason I do it is to justify my own past failures. Not being alone is what drives me in this maddening quest. Once I know the truth or discover the secret then its simply a matter of keeping it to myself. I have yet to find a darkness matching my own and perhaps never would simply because it being my demons. After all being in the pit is a lot more scary than observing it from the outside.

I feel alone. Don't look at me like that.

A famous writer wrote a short story long ago. Go read it! The tell tale heart - Edgar Allen Poe

The Wordsmith.

Drawing upon other for inspiration tends to take time but finally I have done it. The term wordsmith has stuck in my head. And I like it. The word creates a picture of a noble arcane masters pouring there souls and feelings into structured symbols to filigree words. Picking feelings , formulating questions , recording truth. Oh the bliss of appreciating the finer of these elysian jewels called words. I shall become an apprentice! I shall learn the art of wielding the right tools. I vow take delve deeper into the ore which comprises my thoughts , desires and emotions. Fine, elegant fruits from the forests of my memories. I will accentuate! I will make the world fall in love with fictional characters. I will riddle with a play of words and amuse with written humor.
To achieve this I must intoxicate my mind with ambrosia of the masters of literature. Seek out the sages who's talent comes as naturally as the wind and as straining as the river flow. I must erase the ideas in my mind that has become corrupt by fashion and form in their stead ideas conjured from study and hard work. I admit to being but an infant in the arts. I am willing to stress my mind, humble myself and credit my teachers. And if I find no willing teachers I will learn from masters past and draw inspiration from the mountains or the clouds. U wull learn to use words of power. Fabled to grasp at the soul and control the mind. I will one day become a Wordsmith.

The straight and narrow.

Be warned. I'm back to blogging with my old pc. Woot. How did I ever make it without The Sage? /bow. I am intrigued by a certain pattern in my life which I feel the need to explain. Its called a pattern because there are multiple instances who have no connection to each other. This pattern is as follow. I have three good friends (who didn't put each other up to it and in fact hadn't at that moment even had contact) get the idea that I "bat for the other team". First and foremost: I am not gay. I am not even closet gay. I love the company of the fairer sex. I can not express this more without being a barbarian. And that I fear is the problem.

The three friends who started this trend are usually the three most charismatic and eventually everyone will follow suit without even a shred of evidence. I am smaller built than most of my friends. I prefer the company of intellectual women over attractive idiots. I can have a decent conversation with a homosexual person as easy as I can have a decent conversation with anyone. I like classical music and read as often as I can. I don't sleep around with every women I can get my hands on. In fact I don't have a girlfriend very often.

Does this make me look gay ? The fact that these individuals call me things like queer Pierre and princess doesn't even concern me. The fact that there is a pattern does. Do not however get the wrong idea. I am still very secure about my sexuality and I'm still heterosexual. (Sorry to those readers holding there breaths) I just find the coincidence interesting.

This post is a lot shorter than I anticipated so please comment and spare me the trouble of brain storming something else to write.

I am never Wronk.

This post will be with spelling mistakes. These are intentional to prove a point. And I am working on another PC without a a dictionary program to which I am very reliant.

To err is human . This I know. In fact I know more than anyone else that I am not perfect and very capable of making mistakes. Note : This isn't written by "Will (Italic)" since its not a negative perception. Admitting you are wrong isn't supposed to be wrong. There are many different ways of being wrong. The worst is knowing you are right.

I know I am right. I know he was wrong. I know why I know I am right and I don't want to admit that I am wrong. I want him to admit he is wrong. And the sad true very very annoying fact is that , that makes me wrong. I want to be angry at the universe and curse all living for it and that makes me wrong. How can I judge someone else when I am wrong ? That makes me wrong doesn't it ? The irony.

All said and done there is no escaping it. You can not move on. You can not go back. And saying sorry is agonizing. Even more so because I did nothing wrong. Am I right ?

Now if that didn't confuse you then imagine how I feel. The human soul doesn't consist of any special gas or magical substance kinda like gooey smokey blueish matter. The human soul is the sum of decisions, thoughts and feeling. That is the beauty of it. God made us by fitting us into a plan. A plan that takes place over an infinity plus one second. A plan so carefully laid that we can't even imagine the consequences of different events without blowing a mind fuse. (Lost two trying woot!) That is how we are created. Am I wrong ?

And now with this knowledge I will tempt to repair something broken inside me. Its going to be tough. But atleast I have made the choice to try. Which just might be the bravest thing I could do.

Will keep you posted.

I feel like a puppy in a thunderstorm

A famous writer once wrote " Being friends with him is like standing on a tall mountain during a thunderstorm , wearing a suite made of copper and shouting " All gods are bastards!". "