I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that my life has been so busy over these last eight months that I haven't blogged anything. Probably best not to go tugging at that particular thread.
Right, so let's at least do a quick update. I've had that fucking suicide run down post up all year long. Hadn't realized I've left it up there all this time. I mean I knew it was there just forgot how far back it was when I wrote it. And nobody said anything which means they aren't reading or they just didn't care to point it out. Meh.
Update 1:
I'm still alive. That's a victory.
Update 2:
Still working at my shitty job. That is a defeat. Or maybe a stalemate. I'm not sure.
Update 3:
I moved out of the house and into my own place this summer. The psychic energy, full of suffering and misery, was driving me mad. I finally abandoned it and it was the best decision I'd ever made.
Update 4:
Back to the job, I'm currently enrolled in a voice over training course after attending an introductory workshop at a local community center. It's costing a pretty penny but I consider it an investment. I'm very excited about it and I think it's what I've been waiting for.
Update 5:
I started dating this girl back in the start of July. At first we said we were going to take things slow but the more time we spent together the more we hit it off. She's amazing and I love spending time with her. She's also very curious about kink, though she's never tried it, and the prospect of showing her and exploring things with her often has me bouncing in my seat.
I think that's everything. Life still isn't great. Still got a lot of problems, especially with work the last few weeks. I'm hoping the voice over training will help me get out of there, let me find a career in something I can enjoy and that doesn't suck up all of my life.
And I still have my friends and my family. And I'm still alive. That's the most important thing, I think. Where there is life, there is hope. It can be hard for me to remember that some days but not as hard as it used to be.
Maybe next time I'll give a more in-depth look at what's going on. For now, I should get some sleep. Or do something productive. Sleep is for the dead.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Suicide, Depression, Love and Hope
Fuck.
Where do I even begin with what's going on in my life? I looked at the date of my last post and realized how long it's been since I wrote in this blog and also realized how much my life has gotten flipped upside down in only three months.
Most of the people who might read this blog are from Twitter and some of them know about the things I'm about to talk about. Some don't know the whole story, which is what I'm about to lay out here. So strap yourself in, this isn't going to be pretty.
For the last five years I've lived with my grandmother and my uncle. As my grandmother has gotten older, her health has failed her and she reached a point where she couldn't take care of herself. So my uncle took on that responsibility, which eventually became a full time job. As a result, they had no income of their own since he couldn't work, so I lived with them to help with the bills. I didn't have to do this, since I was making enough money to survive on my own, but I take care of my family.
That isn't to say that it's been easy for me. My uncle, I have recently learned, has long dealt with depression even before he moved in with me and my grandmother. However, he refused to recognize he had a problem and seek help. As a result, over the years, his attitude has driven people away from him and alienated his family. Whereas most people living in a situation like ours might talk all the time, my uncle and I barely spoke. At times it was like we pretended the other person wasn't there and simply went on about our business.
Unfortunately, 2012 became the worst year of my life. A few months before that year began I began to spiral down into a depression that drove me to the brink of suicide. I've already written about my experiences with that, so if you want to know just look back through my blog. I sought help from my doctor and eventually came out to my friends what I was dealing with. Their love and support, as well as the support of all my Twitter friends, have kept me alive. That doesn't mean it hasn't been easy. It still isn't easy today, despite the fact that it isn't as bad as it was. But the last few months have tested the very limits of my sanity.
My grandmother passed away in October this year. Her health had been rapidly declining for a few months before this but it was still a shock at the suddenness of her passing. And it was hard on all of us but while we grieved for her, I was happy she was finally at peace and wasn't hurting anymore. Hearing her crying only a daily basis for the last few years and knowing there was nothing that could be done to help her feel better tore my heart out again and again.
With my grandmother passed, I decided it was time for me to leave. I loved my uncle but I couldn't stand living with him anymore and he didn't need my support. Despite being up in age, he wasn't helpless and would be able to find a job. It was time for me to have my freedom and, at 31 years old, live on my own for the first time.
Then my uncle committed suicide.
At the time of his death I knew that he was dealing with his own depression and had been doing so for several years. But it was only after my grandmother's death and later, his own, that I learned just how deep his psychological issues ran. I also didn't learn of the financial problems he was having until after my grandmother's death, when he told my mother that he and my grandmother had taken a $45,000 loan out on the house to consolidate my grandmothers debts. As a result, they had been paying off a loan for years that I was completely unaware of, because one of my uncle's greatest problems was that he wouldn't tell anyone anything and wouldn't ask anyone for help.
I don't know when my uncle died. My work schedule is long and ever changing. I work four days at a time, twelve hour shifts, changing from days to nights and back every week. At this time I was working days, waking at 4 AM and not returning until 7 AM or later. On one of these days my uncle lay down in his bed and put a plastic bag over his head to smother himself. I also believe he may have taken a large number of pills to help him with this. However, because he did not leave a note where I could see it and because we rarely spoke to each other, he lay dead in his room for at least two days while I came and went to work. It was only on my first day off, after sleeping in late and waking to find him still asleep did I go to check on him and find him dead.
It's hard for me to describe how much this whole event has torn me apart. Sorrow for the death of my uncle. Rage for him giving up and refusing to try to put together a life for himself. Empathy for knowing what it feels like to have no hope and being at that point of taking your own life. Guilt for not knowing he was dead for so long. Guilt for feeling like I could have done something to help him. Guilt for not giving him every dollar I had. Guilt for not telling him I loved him and would have helped him if he would have tried for himself. Guilt at having to call my mother at work to tell her what happened and hearing her breaking down over the phone. Guilt at having nearly ended my own life and now seeing first hand the agony I would have left behind.
God, the guilt alone could have driven me to kill myself.
Over the last two months since his death, which occurred in early December, the guilt has become easier to deal with. I've spoken with my mother about it and after looking for records and paperwork I came across a letter my uncle had written "in the event of his death." As it turns out, he has dealt with his depression long before he moved in with my grandmother and I. My mother had attempted to help him and after he lashed out at her in anger he refused to speak with her for nearly two years. He had been considering suicide when he wrote this letter nearly six years ago and from what he wrote it was clear that he had become very bitter and cynical with the world.
At the same time, however, he refused to get help. He refused to believe that things could get better or try to find a way to make them better. I don't know why he couldn't do this. I'll never know. But I do know that, despite my guilt, his death is not my fault and that ultimately, his alienation of his family and his unending despair that drove him to suicide were things of his own making.
As for me, I'm now left with a house my mother doesn't want and can't afford. I've been trying to sort out how to deal with the loan that is still on the house as well as dealing with a multitude of repairs that need to be done as well. I'm not sure how things will turn out. Only time will tell.
I wanted to share this story for two reasons. One is because I need to exorcise my demons. I'm still dealing with my depression. My friends know of it but my family doesn't, and I worry about telling them for fear that it would cause my stress in their lives. In some ways this even has made my depression worse but in others it has made me stronger. I loved my uncle. I loved him not simply because he was family but because it was his influence in my earliest days that have made me the man I am today. I wouldn't have put up with his bullshit as long as I did if it hadn't been for the fact that he was, at his heart, a good man who deserved better. But his depression and the attitude it gave him was a toxic influence that I believe had a strong influence on my own depression eventually manifesting. I am now free of that poison. I wish it hadn't come at such a high price but, again, I didn't make that choice.
The second reason I want to share my story is that I know there are others out there who deal with psychological issues. They're afraid to come forward and ask for help, like I was. They worry that people will belittle or ignore them, that they'll treat them like lepers or like they're afraid of them. One of my greatest fears that kept me from telling my best friend about my depression was that he would come to fear me and wouldn't want me to be the godfather of his daughter anymore. But that fear nearly destroyed me and it would have won out eventually if I hadn't finally come out and admitted the problem I was having.
My friend showed me more love and compassion than I could have ever hoped and has continued to do so in the wake of my uncle's death. And, being as much of a geek as I am, he told me "When you can't run, you crawl and when you can't do that...you find someone to carry you." Browncoats for life.
I have vowed that no matter how dark things seem I will never again consider taking my own life. I will not inflict that pain on the people I love. And I want others to realize that as well. I want them to realize that the pain and agony they feel is not new and unique to them. Others have felt it, others still feel it and there are others still who will help you deal with it. Don't let your fear of what society may think of you prevent you from seeking the help you need, because ultimately you make the choice to end your life and bring pain to the people you love, even if you don't realize how much it would hurt them.
Thank you to everyone who has supported me and stood by my side. Thank you for your love and support. Thank you for never giving up on me.
Where do I even begin with what's going on in my life? I looked at the date of my last post and realized how long it's been since I wrote in this blog and also realized how much my life has gotten flipped upside down in only three months.
Most of the people who might read this blog are from Twitter and some of them know about the things I'm about to talk about. Some don't know the whole story, which is what I'm about to lay out here. So strap yourself in, this isn't going to be pretty.
For the last five years I've lived with my grandmother and my uncle. As my grandmother has gotten older, her health has failed her and she reached a point where she couldn't take care of herself. So my uncle took on that responsibility, which eventually became a full time job. As a result, they had no income of their own since he couldn't work, so I lived with them to help with the bills. I didn't have to do this, since I was making enough money to survive on my own, but I take care of my family.
That isn't to say that it's been easy for me. My uncle, I have recently learned, has long dealt with depression even before he moved in with me and my grandmother. However, he refused to recognize he had a problem and seek help. As a result, over the years, his attitude has driven people away from him and alienated his family. Whereas most people living in a situation like ours might talk all the time, my uncle and I barely spoke. At times it was like we pretended the other person wasn't there and simply went on about our business.
Unfortunately, 2012 became the worst year of my life. A few months before that year began I began to spiral down into a depression that drove me to the brink of suicide. I've already written about my experiences with that, so if you want to know just look back through my blog. I sought help from my doctor and eventually came out to my friends what I was dealing with. Their love and support, as well as the support of all my Twitter friends, have kept me alive. That doesn't mean it hasn't been easy. It still isn't easy today, despite the fact that it isn't as bad as it was. But the last few months have tested the very limits of my sanity.
My grandmother passed away in October this year. Her health had been rapidly declining for a few months before this but it was still a shock at the suddenness of her passing. And it was hard on all of us but while we grieved for her, I was happy she was finally at peace and wasn't hurting anymore. Hearing her crying only a daily basis for the last few years and knowing there was nothing that could be done to help her feel better tore my heart out again and again.
With my grandmother passed, I decided it was time for me to leave. I loved my uncle but I couldn't stand living with him anymore and he didn't need my support. Despite being up in age, he wasn't helpless and would be able to find a job. It was time for me to have my freedom and, at 31 years old, live on my own for the first time.
Then my uncle committed suicide.
At the time of his death I knew that he was dealing with his own depression and had been doing so for several years. But it was only after my grandmother's death and later, his own, that I learned just how deep his psychological issues ran. I also didn't learn of the financial problems he was having until after my grandmother's death, when he told my mother that he and my grandmother had taken a $45,000 loan out on the house to consolidate my grandmothers debts. As a result, they had been paying off a loan for years that I was completely unaware of, because one of my uncle's greatest problems was that he wouldn't tell anyone anything and wouldn't ask anyone for help.
I don't know when my uncle died. My work schedule is long and ever changing. I work four days at a time, twelve hour shifts, changing from days to nights and back every week. At this time I was working days, waking at 4 AM and not returning until 7 AM or later. On one of these days my uncle lay down in his bed and put a plastic bag over his head to smother himself. I also believe he may have taken a large number of pills to help him with this. However, because he did not leave a note where I could see it and because we rarely spoke to each other, he lay dead in his room for at least two days while I came and went to work. It was only on my first day off, after sleeping in late and waking to find him still asleep did I go to check on him and find him dead.
It's hard for me to describe how much this whole event has torn me apart. Sorrow for the death of my uncle. Rage for him giving up and refusing to try to put together a life for himself. Empathy for knowing what it feels like to have no hope and being at that point of taking your own life. Guilt for not knowing he was dead for so long. Guilt for feeling like I could have done something to help him. Guilt for not giving him every dollar I had. Guilt for not telling him I loved him and would have helped him if he would have tried for himself. Guilt at having to call my mother at work to tell her what happened and hearing her breaking down over the phone. Guilt at having nearly ended my own life and now seeing first hand the agony I would have left behind.
God, the guilt alone could have driven me to kill myself.
Over the last two months since his death, which occurred in early December, the guilt has become easier to deal with. I've spoken with my mother about it and after looking for records and paperwork I came across a letter my uncle had written "in the event of his death." As it turns out, he has dealt with his depression long before he moved in with my grandmother and I. My mother had attempted to help him and after he lashed out at her in anger he refused to speak with her for nearly two years. He had been considering suicide when he wrote this letter nearly six years ago and from what he wrote it was clear that he had become very bitter and cynical with the world.
At the same time, however, he refused to get help. He refused to believe that things could get better or try to find a way to make them better. I don't know why he couldn't do this. I'll never know. But I do know that, despite my guilt, his death is not my fault and that ultimately, his alienation of his family and his unending despair that drove him to suicide were things of his own making.
As for me, I'm now left with a house my mother doesn't want and can't afford. I've been trying to sort out how to deal with the loan that is still on the house as well as dealing with a multitude of repairs that need to be done as well. I'm not sure how things will turn out. Only time will tell.
I wanted to share this story for two reasons. One is because I need to exorcise my demons. I'm still dealing with my depression. My friends know of it but my family doesn't, and I worry about telling them for fear that it would cause my stress in their lives. In some ways this even has made my depression worse but in others it has made me stronger. I loved my uncle. I loved him not simply because he was family but because it was his influence in my earliest days that have made me the man I am today. I wouldn't have put up with his bullshit as long as I did if it hadn't been for the fact that he was, at his heart, a good man who deserved better. But his depression and the attitude it gave him was a toxic influence that I believe had a strong influence on my own depression eventually manifesting. I am now free of that poison. I wish it hadn't come at such a high price but, again, I didn't make that choice.
The second reason I want to share my story is that I know there are others out there who deal with psychological issues. They're afraid to come forward and ask for help, like I was. They worry that people will belittle or ignore them, that they'll treat them like lepers or like they're afraid of them. One of my greatest fears that kept me from telling my best friend about my depression was that he would come to fear me and wouldn't want me to be the godfather of his daughter anymore. But that fear nearly destroyed me and it would have won out eventually if I hadn't finally come out and admitted the problem I was having.
My friend showed me more love and compassion than I could have ever hoped and has continued to do so in the wake of my uncle's death. And, being as much of a geek as I am, he told me "When you can't run, you crawl and when you can't do that...you find someone to carry you." Browncoats for life.
I have vowed that no matter how dark things seem I will never again consider taking my own life. I will not inflict that pain on the people I love. And I want others to realize that as well. I want them to realize that the pain and agony they feel is not new and unique to them. Others have felt it, others still feel it and there are others still who will help you deal with it. Don't let your fear of what society may think of you prevent you from seeking the help you need, because ultimately you make the choice to end your life and bring pain to the people you love, even if you don't realize how much it would hurt them.
Thank you to everyone who has supported me and stood by my side. Thank you for your love and support. Thank you for never giving up on me.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
The Darkness
What is the darkness?
Imagine that there is a voice in your head. It's a part of your brain that has detached itself from the rest of the grey matter that lies under your control. It has achieved independence. It has no master, it has no strings that you can pull, and it sits in the center of your mind where it can reach every part of your being with ease.
And it wants to hurt you.
It is the ultimate enemy because it knows your every weakness and it exploits them. It can manipulate your emotions, your very thoughts, without even trying. You can't stop it. It can reach into your head and pluck the strings of despair and agony and shame and make you dance to them. If you don't resist, it makes you dance faster and faster, spinning and spinning until you don't know which way is up or down, what is right or wrong, what is real life and what is Hell.
If you resist, it punishes you for your arrogance. It exhausts you to the breaking point. The harder you push back, the harder it bites. It digs deeper, it's claws draw more blood, it pulls out more horror for you to endure, waiting until it either finds the chink in your armor or exhausts the last of your defenses.
You will experience shame. You will be ashamed of everything you have ever failed at. You will be ashamed at everything you've ever gotten wrong. Every poor school grade, every rejection from the object of your affection, every word spoken against your character you will know to be absolutely deserved because of how worthless you. And you are worthless. Because the darkness can make you feel, with absolute certainty, how worthless you are.
You will experience rage. Your anger will push you until your blood is pounding in your ears and your teeth hurt from grinding against each other and your hands want to do nothing but smash anything and everything in arms length. This fury comes from the fact that you have failed, that you will always fail, and that the only person responsible for it is you. You may find yourself directing your anger at others but ultimately you'll smash the mirror because you hate yourself because you know your rage is justified. because the darkness can make you feel, with absolute certainty, how worthless you are.
You will experience apathy. Days will come when you don't want to get out of bed because there's no point. You'll never amount to anything, you aren't worth anything and you shouldn't even try to achieve your dreams because you'll just fail after trying so hard. So you stay home, you ignore calls from friends and family, you stop caring about even the most basic things in your life that you don't have to focus on in order to survive. After all, you know there's no point. Because the darkness can make you feel, with absolute certainty, how worthless you are.
You will experience fear. No matter how much you hurt, no one actually cares about your problems. Other people have real problems not fake problems like you and your emo depressiveness. You're not dying. You're not starving. So get over yourself. And don't tell anyone what your problem is because it doesn't matter. If you tell them, they'll just laugh at you or tell you to get over yourself or stop begging for attention or to get laid and get over it or that you just try to be happy and you'll be happy. So when people ask how you're doing you just say you're fine, because they don't want to hear about your problems. Because the darkness can make you feel, with absolutely certainty, how worthless you are.
You suffer every day. You suffer because the darkness wants you to suffer. It sits on your shoulder like the imp, whispering in your ear all the truths you already know and hate to hear. It is the black dog, nipping at your heels, threatening to devour you if you don't keep to the script and continue pretending everything is fine. it is the cancer, the black ichor that devours you piece by piece on the inside, until the only thing left inside of you is agony and grief and despair.
The darkness won't stop. It won't stop until you end it. And in that moment, where the pain of living outweighs the pain you'll inflict on your loved ones by taking your own life, you'll pull that trigger, take that jump, make that final cut and the darkness will laugh because it has won.
Because it always wins.
Imagine that there is a voice in your head. It's a part of your brain that has detached itself from the rest of the grey matter that lies under your control. It has achieved independence. It has no master, it has no strings that you can pull, and it sits in the center of your mind where it can reach every part of your being with ease.
And it wants to hurt you.
It is the ultimate enemy because it knows your every weakness and it exploits them. It can manipulate your emotions, your very thoughts, without even trying. You can't stop it. It can reach into your head and pluck the strings of despair and agony and shame and make you dance to them. If you don't resist, it makes you dance faster and faster, spinning and spinning until you don't know which way is up or down, what is right or wrong, what is real life and what is Hell.
If you resist, it punishes you for your arrogance. It exhausts you to the breaking point. The harder you push back, the harder it bites. It digs deeper, it's claws draw more blood, it pulls out more horror for you to endure, waiting until it either finds the chink in your armor or exhausts the last of your defenses.
You will experience shame. You will be ashamed of everything you have ever failed at. You will be ashamed at everything you've ever gotten wrong. Every poor school grade, every rejection from the object of your affection, every word spoken against your character you will know to be absolutely deserved because of how worthless you. And you are worthless. Because the darkness can make you feel, with absolute certainty, how worthless you are.
You will experience rage. Your anger will push you until your blood is pounding in your ears and your teeth hurt from grinding against each other and your hands want to do nothing but smash anything and everything in arms length. This fury comes from the fact that you have failed, that you will always fail, and that the only person responsible for it is you. You may find yourself directing your anger at others but ultimately you'll smash the mirror because you hate yourself because you know your rage is justified. because the darkness can make you feel, with absolute certainty, how worthless you are.
You will experience apathy. Days will come when you don't want to get out of bed because there's no point. You'll never amount to anything, you aren't worth anything and you shouldn't even try to achieve your dreams because you'll just fail after trying so hard. So you stay home, you ignore calls from friends and family, you stop caring about even the most basic things in your life that you don't have to focus on in order to survive. After all, you know there's no point. Because the darkness can make you feel, with absolute certainty, how worthless you are.
You will experience fear. No matter how much you hurt, no one actually cares about your problems. Other people have real problems not fake problems like you and your emo depressiveness. You're not dying. You're not starving. So get over yourself. And don't tell anyone what your problem is because it doesn't matter. If you tell them, they'll just laugh at you or tell you to get over yourself or stop begging for attention or to get laid and get over it or that you just try to be happy and you'll be happy. So when people ask how you're doing you just say you're fine, because they don't want to hear about your problems. Because the darkness can make you feel, with absolutely certainty, how worthless you are.
You suffer every day. You suffer because the darkness wants you to suffer. It sits on your shoulder like the imp, whispering in your ear all the truths you already know and hate to hear. It is the black dog, nipping at your heels, threatening to devour you if you don't keep to the script and continue pretending everything is fine. it is the cancer, the black ichor that devours you piece by piece on the inside, until the only thing left inside of you is agony and grief and despair.
The darkness won't stop. It won't stop until you end it. And in that moment, where the pain of living outweighs the pain you'll inflict on your loved ones by taking your own life, you'll pull that trigger, take that jump, make that final cut and the darkness will laugh because it has won.
Because it always wins.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Things I Learned While Thinking About Committing Suicide
I don't know anything
about Fyodor Dostoyevsky's writing but I do know a little about his past. When he
was young, Dostoyevsky was essentially like a lot of bored college kids
today and he ended up joining a radical, left-wing group that was
talking a bunch of smack about bringing down the Russian monarchy.
However, the government got wind of this and arrested them all. Most of
them expected to spend a few months in jail, since that was the typical
punishment for this kind of thing. However, the czar decided to make an
example of these men and sentenced them to death. None of them were told
of their punishment as they awaited some word on their fate until the
day the were brought out of jail for their execution.
Suddenly realizing that they were completely done for, the men said their goodbyes and waited for the firing squad to take them out. Then at the last minute a messenger came with a letter from the czar saying that he was commuting their sentence and they would instead serve four years of hard labor in Siberia and then be required to serve a stint in the military. Dostoyevsky was so relieved that he wasn't going to die and suddenly he realized how he had nearly lost everything, how he had been wasting his life and his time hanging out with a bunch of liberal hippies who didn't know a damn thing about what they were talking about. He was shipped off to Siberia to serve his time and while there he had no access to pen or paper to record his story ideas. So he wrote them. In his head. And memorized them. Later, after he had been released from hard labor and was serving in the military, he was giving permission to write and publish his first book. The rest is history.
So what does this have to do with me? Some people I've talked to on Twitter know about the depression I've been dealing with for nearly a year now. More than once it reached a point where I was seriously considering suicide. However, I sought help for this, started on a medication and things seemed to be going better. However, as the summer has worn on I found myself still being miserable, mostly due to my job. Then about a week ago I went into work and sat there, hating it as I always do. Then I considered getting up, climbing to the top of my building, and throwing myself off. A moment later I realized that if I was ever going to get better, I couldn't just take a pill and expect everything to be fixed. I had to fix my life as well.
I decided that would be my last day of work. I left after my shift was over, called off for the next day, and on Wednesday I called work to let them know I was leaving, turned in my security badge and my uniforms, and never looked back. It wasn't until the next day when I woke up and realized I wouldn't have to go back to that hellhole that I felt happy for the first time in awhile. At that point I realized just how much my work had been affecting my depressive state. Because I have family that depend on my for financial support and because I still have to eat like any normal person, walking out of a job without having something to fall back on can be a scary prospect. I have money tucked away, but anyone who's lost a job in the last few years knows how quickly all that can get eaten up. However, I knew that staying there would have much more dire consequences than leaving would. I've long said that there's always another job out there somewhere if you're willing to do the work. Just ask any Mexican.
In the past I always thought of suicide as the coward's way out. I felt like people who took their own lives were weak and that they just couldn't handle what life was throwing at them and that killing themselves was such a waste. When you stand on the other side of that line, your perspective changes drastically.
I don't want to talk about fighting with my demons, however. That might be a conversation for another time. I do, however, want to say that when you start thinking about suicide, death and dying, when you're thinking about it on a daily basis, your attitude towards life will drastically change, even if you later turn away from suicide. Most of us don't think about death. We don't like to think about it because it's terrifying. It scares us because we don't know what lies beyond. Despite what the world's many religions will say, none of them have hard evidence of what lies beyond the border between life and death. Is it Heaven? Hell? Reincarnation? Oblivion? We will only ever know when we are ready to take the walk through that door.
But thinking about suicide forces you to think about what's beyond that door. I'm an atheist but I've always said that just as a priest can't give me proof that God exists, I can't give him proof that He doesn't. Considering your own mortality day in and day out can change how you see things. It makes you think of what will happen when you're gone. What will your loved ones do? How will they react? Will people miss you? What will they say about you? All you have to do is attend a funeral and talk to the people there to know the answers. Ultimately, however, there is one constant in the universe that no one, no matter their station or wealth, can change.
Life moves on.
As hard as losing the people we love is, the world will keep spinning. The sun will rise tomorrow. People will wake up and though some of them may still be mourning for you, most will never even know you existed. No one is immune to this. For all the fanfare and ceremony we give to someone famous or important when they die, most of us don't sit and contemplate how much we miss Steve Jobs or Ronald Reagan or the last pope. We think about the people who have left us but we still have our own lives to live. We can't spend every day mourning those who are gone. Eventually we have to pick up our lives and keep going. That same thing will happen when we die. Those we've left behind will mourn and move on. Nothing will be changed by dying. Nothing will be changed by taking your own life. And we will die. That is an absolute certainty.
You. Are. Going. To. Die.
It took me a little time to wrap my head around this concept. It's not that I didn't think I was going to die but rather it was the idea that we don't think about that when we wake up every morning. Today, thousands of people will lose their lives in a variety of ways. Tomorrow, thousands more will die as well. By the end of the week, tens of thousands will be dead. And there's nothing anyone can do about it. Either through conflict or illness or accident, people are going to die sooner or later and that includes you.
I'm feeling better now that I've left my job. I don't want to hurt myself anymore and I don't feel the desperate need to end my own life to escape the pain of being me. However, I still think about death every day. I think about how I'm going to die and when I do I think about what the world will say about me if I do. I wonder what people would say if I had chosen to throw myself off the top of that building. Most of my coworkers would have sat joking about it in the lunch room. "Well, there's another slot for overtime." My family and friends would have been devastated. My death might have made a small news story on the back page if my employers couldn't keep it quiet.
When I think about what comes after death, what people will do and say, I realize that not much is going to happen at all. Because life moves on. So now I wake up every day and I think about death coming for me. I think that, tomorrow, that hooded bastard is going to be waiting for me around the next turn. I think he's going to swoop down while I'm driving the work or to a party. Hell, he might just tap me on the shoulder in the middle of the night to drag me out of bed. Death is always just a few steps away for all of us. There's nothing we can do about that. So keeping that it mind, I think it's important to think about the lives we have today and consider "What do I want people to say about me when I die?"
"Live like you were dying" or "Live like there's no tomorrow" are terrible cliche. Instead, we should wake up every day and, just for a few minutes, meditate on our death. Think about it coming for you. Think about what will happen if you die right in that moment. What will you regret? What will you wish you had done? What will you wish you had said? Don't be motivated by cute phrases that can be printed on a t-shirt. Instead, face the reality that your end is coming, you can't do anything about it, and you need to get as much done as you can before then. Because you don't know what's on the other side of the door but you know one day you'll have to go through it.
Suddenly realizing that they were completely done for, the men said their goodbyes and waited for the firing squad to take them out. Then at the last minute a messenger came with a letter from the czar saying that he was commuting their sentence and they would instead serve four years of hard labor in Siberia and then be required to serve a stint in the military. Dostoyevsky was so relieved that he wasn't going to die and suddenly he realized how he had nearly lost everything, how he had been wasting his life and his time hanging out with a bunch of liberal hippies who didn't know a damn thing about what they were talking about. He was shipped off to Siberia to serve his time and while there he had no access to pen or paper to record his story ideas. So he wrote them. In his head. And memorized them. Later, after he had been released from hard labor and was serving in the military, he was giving permission to write and publish his first book. The rest is history.
So what does this have to do with me? Some people I've talked to on Twitter know about the depression I've been dealing with for nearly a year now. More than once it reached a point where I was seriously considering suicide. However, I sought help for this, started on a medication and things seemed to be going better. However, as the summer has worn on I found myself still being miserable, mostly due to my job. Then about a week ago I went into work and sat there, hating it as I always do. Then I considered getting up, climbing to the top of my building, and throwing myself off. A moment later I realized that if I was ever going to get better, I couldn't just take a pill and expect everything to be fixed. I had to fix my life as well.
I decided that would be my last day of work. I left after my shift was over, called off for the next day, and on Wednesday I called work to let them know I was leaving, turned in my security badge and my uniforms, and never looked back. It wasn't until the next day when I woke up and realized I wouldn't have to go back to that hellhole that I felt happy for the first time in awhile. At that point I realized just how much my work had been affecting my depressive state. Because I have family that depend on my for financial support and because I still have to eat like any normal person, walking out of a job without having something to fall back on can be a scary prospect. I have money tucked away, but anyone who's lost a job in the last few years knows how quickly all that can get eaten up. However, I knew that staying there would have much more dire consequences than leaving would. I've long said that there's always another job out there somewhere if you're willing to do the work. Just ask any Mexican.
In the past I always thought of suicide as the coward's way out. I felt like people who took their own lives were weak and that they just couldn't handle what life was throwing at them and that killing themselves was such a waste. When you stand on the other side of that line, your perspective changes drastically.
I don't want to talk about fighting with my demons, however. That might be a conversation for another time. I do, however, want to say that when you start thinking about suicide, death and dying, when you're thinking about it on a daily basis, your attitude towards life will drastically change, even if you later turn away from suicide. Most of us don't think about death. We don't like to think about it because it's terrifying. It scares us because we don't know what lies beyond. Despite what the world's many religions will say, none of them have hard evidence of what lies beyond the border between life and death. Is it Heaven? Hell? Reincarnation? Oblivion? We will only ever know when we are ready to take the walk through that door.
But thinking about suicide forces you to think about what's beyond that door. I'm an atheist but I've always said that just as a priest can't give me proof that God exists, I can't give him proof that He doesn't. Considering your own mortality day in and day out can change how you see things. It makes you think of what will happen when you're gone. What will your loved ones do? How will they react? Will people miss you? What will they say about you? All you have to do is attend a funeral and talk to the people there to know the answers. Ultimately, however, there is one constant in the universe that no one, no matter their station or wealth, can change.
Life moves on.
As hard as losing the people we love is, the world will keep spinning. The sun will rise tomorrow. People will wake up and though some of them may still be mourning for you, most will never even know you existed. No one is immune to this. For all the fanfare and ceremony we give to someone famous or important when they die, most of us don't sit and contemplate how much we miss Steve Jobs or Ronald Reagan or the last pope. We think about the people who have left us but we still have our own lives to live. We can't spend every day mourning those who are gone. Eventually we have to pick up our lives and keep going. That same thing will happen when we die. Those we've left behind will mourn and move on. Nothing will be changed by dying. Nothing will be changed by taking your own life. And we will die. That is an absolute certainty.
You. Are. Going. To. Die.
It took me a little time to wrap my head around this concept. It's not that I didn't think I was going to die but rather it was the idea that we don't think about that when we wake up every morning. Today, thousands of people will lose their lives in a variety of ways. Tomorrow, thousands more will die as well. By the end of the week, tens of thousands will be dead. And there's nothing anyone can do about it. Either through conflict or illness or accident, people are going to die sooner or later and that includes you.
I'm feeling better now that I've left my job. I don't want to hurt myself anymore and I don't feel the desperate need to end my own life to escape the pain of being me. However, I still think about death every day. I think about how I'm going to die and when I do I think about what the world will say about me if I do. I wonder what people would say if I had chosen to throw myself off the top of that building. Most of my coworkers would have sat joking about it in the lunch room. "Well, there's another slot for overtime." My family and friends would have been devastated. My death might have made a small news story on the back page if my employers couldn't keep it quiet.
When I think about what comes after death, what people will do and say, I realize that not much is going to happen at all. Because life moves on. So now I wake up every day and I think about death coming for me. I think that, tomorrow, that hooded bastard is going to be waiting for me around the next turn. I think he's going to swoop down while I'm driving the work or to a party. Hell, he might just tap me on the shoulder in the middle of the night to drag me out of bed. Death is always just a few steps away for all of us. There's nothing we can do about that. So keeping that it mind, I think it's important to think about the lives we have today and consider "What do I want people to say about me when I die?"
"Live like you were dying" or "Live like there's no tomorrow" are terrible cliche. Instead, we should wake up every day and, just for a few minutes, meditate on our death. Think about it coming for you. Think about what will happen if you die right in that moment. What will you regret? What will you wish you had done? What will you wish you had said? Don't be motivated by cute phrases that can be printed on a t-shirt. Instead, face the reality that your end is coming, you can't do anything about it, and you need to get as much done as you can before then. Because you don't know what's on the other side of the door but you know one day you'll have to go through it.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Lee's Awesome Work Adventures!
Recently I got into some trouble at work. Part of my job is to keep a daily log of what I've done and any problems I've come up with. My managers are supposed to read these logs regularly so that they have an idea of what's going on in the work area. Unfortunately, my managers could care less about anything that doesn't directly affect them, so they don't read the logs. Ever. Like never ever.
I don't like to talk about who I work for, simply because this is the internet and people get fired for all sorts of things. I'll just say that I work at a refinery for a large company in Houston. If you know Houston, you know there are dozens of refineries owned by large companies.
For the last few months our company has been performing a massive audit of the entire facility in preparation for a major expansion coming up in a few years. I won't bore you with the details but essentially they've been checking everything from top to bottom. This includes work logs. You can see where this is going.
Personally, I'm insulted that I was punished rather than commended for my awesome works. Clearly, as you will see, I'm some kind of God damn genius. A prodigy of my time, even. You may judge for yourself but if you don't agree with me then clearly you're wrong, and also a communist. Or a vegan. Or a commie vegan.
All logs are presented in the order they were written, so you may see the escalation for yourself. Some include famous quotes and lyrics at the start. Some are not as funny as others. All are meant to entertain and inspire. Enjoy.
Note: Some items have been removed or edited to protect the guilty. So pretty much myself.
------
I’M JUST A COSMIC CASTAWAY.
EVERYBODY PITIES THE WEAK; JEALOUSY YOU HAVE TO EARN.
LIFE IS LIKE A KNIFE FIGHT IN A DIRT FLOORED BAR; IF THEY KNOCK YOU DOWN, YOU’D BETTER GET BACK UP.
THERE ARE THREE WAYS TO MAKE A LIVING IN THIS BUSINESS: BE FIRST, BE SMARTER, OR CHEAT.
GOD I LOVE MY JOB. I ALSO LIE ALL THE TIME.
****** WEIGH SCALE PROGRAM IS GIVING THE ERROR MESSAGE THAT INDICATES THE
WRONG STATION IS SELECTED IN THE DROP DOWN MENU AT THE TOP OF THE
SCREEN. HOWEVER, ******IS SELECTED AND SO THERE SHOULDN’T BE A
PROBLEM. I THINK THE COMPUTER IS JUST MESSING WITH ME, SEEING HOW LONG
BEFORE I SNAP AND PUT A SCREW DRIVER THROUGH THE MOTHER BOARD. SHOULDN’T
TAKE LONG.
ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER DOLLAR. MORE SKILLS TO PAY BIGGER BILLS.
GIVE
A MAN A FISH AND HE’LL EAT FOR A DAY. TEACH A MAN TO CONTROL A HIGH
POWERED DRUG CARTEL OF BRUTAL, MERCILESS THUGS AND HE’LL HAVE PEOPLE
CATCHING FISH FOR HIM FOR A LIFE TIME.
CONTINUED TO ROCK OUT WITH MY STOCK OUT
SIDE NOTE: THERE ARE TOO MANY GOD DAMNED BUGS IN THIS BITCH.
I AM HIGHLY MOTIVATED TO DO NOTHING
June 30, 2012
DID GET MY NAP ON
VACATION TIME. DEUCES BITCHES, HUGS AND KISSES! SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS!
I don't like to talk about who I work for, simply because this is the internet and people get fired for all sorts of things. I'll just say that I work at a refinery for a large company in Houston. If you know Houston, you know there are dozens of refineries owned by large companies.
For the last few months our company has been performing a massive audit of the entire facility in preparation for a major expansion coming up in a few years. I won't bore you with the details but essentially they've been checking everything from top to bottom. This includes work logs. You can see where this is going.
Personally, I'm insulted that I was punished rather than commended for my awesome works. Clearly, as you will see, I'm some kind of God damn genius. A prodigy of my time, even. You may judge for yourself but if you don't agree with me then clearly you're wrong, and also a communist. Or a vegan. Or a commie vegan.
All logs are presented in the order they were written, so you may see the escalation for yourself. Some include famous quotes and lyrics at the start. Some are not as funny as others. All are meant to entertain and inspire. Enjoy.
Note: Some items have been removed or edited to protect the guilty. So pretty much myself.
------
March 11, 2012
GOT RAINED ON. GOOD TIMES, GOOD TIMES.
THERE AIN’T NO REST FOR THE WICKED
MONEY DON’T GROW ON TREES
I GOT BILLS TO PAY, I GOT MOUTHS TO FEED
THERE AIN’T NOTHING IN THIS WORLD FOR FREE
AND NO I CAN’T SLOW DOWN, I CAN’T HOLD BACK
THOUGH YOU KNOW I WISH I COULD
OH NO THERE AIN’T NO REST FOR THE WICKED
UNTIL WE CLOSE OUR EYES FOR GOOD
March 12, 2012
WORKING OVER TIME. MAKING BANK.
GOT AN AWESOME PIN FROM STEVE THE SAFETY GUY. IT’S GOLD. BE JEALOUS.
March 14, 2012
I’M
VERY TIRED. IT’S BEEN A LONG, BUSY NIGHT. HOPEFULLY I’LL BE ABLE TO
MAKE IT BACK HOME AND NOT DIE IN A HORRIBLE, FIREY CAR CRASH.
EVERY DAY I’M HUSTLIN’.
March 16, 2012
ANOTHER NIGHT IN THE TRENCHES. VICTORY IS OURS.
March 17, 2012
I MANAGED TO AVOID SPILLING PELLETS ALL OVER THE GROUND AT ******.
THAT’S BECAUSE I’M AWESOME AND I WOULD LIKE THE OFFICIAL RECORD TO REFLECT THIS.
March 18, 2012
March 19, 2012
March 24, 2012
IF YOU HAVING LOADING PROBLEMS, I FEEL BAD FOR YOU SON.
I GOT 99 PROBLEMS BUT A TRAIN CAR AIN’T ONE.
March 25, 2012
March 26, 2012
IT
TAKES A TRUE STROKE OF GENIUS TO DESIGN YOUR MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR
FACILITY TO COMPLETELY SHUT DOWN WHEN YOUR AIR CONDITIONER GOES OUT.
(This
one takes a little explaining. That day, the cooling unit in the lab
went out, shutting the air conditioner down. What I didn’t know then was
that the same cooling unit was also used to run one of the machines in
the lab that’s used for quality testing the plastic. This machine has to
be used before the loaded cars can be shipped out to customers and it
was down for a few days. As a result, there was talking of having to
shut down the reactors because there is only so much room on the tracks
to store those loaded cars. Once the tracks are full, we can’t move
anymore cars, we can’t load cars, we can’t fill blenders, which means we
can’t make new plastic. The entire production line gets backed up.
Smart, huh? Also, not the first time this has happened.)
March 27, 2012
IF I OWNED THIS PLACE AND HELL, I’D RENT THIS PLACE OUT AND LIVE IN HELL.
March 28, 2012
WHY
IS IT THAT WE HANG UP LAMENATED PAPERS SAYING HOW IMPORTANT IT IS WE DO
OUR LOGS BUT WE DON’T HAVE PAPERS THAT STATE THE ACCEPTABLE LIMITS FOR
WEIGHING UP A SCALE CAR, THE ESTIMATED WEIGHT OF A GIVEN COMPARTMENT AT ******, OR THE DIFFERENT OILS THAT WE USE FOR BLOWERS, DVS AND OTHER
EQUIPMENT OUT HERE? I GUESS LOGIC, MUCH LIKE REPAIRING OUR BROKEN DOWN
SYSTEMS, JUST ISN’T COST EFFECTIVE.
April 1, 2012
WHAT DO TIGERS DREAM OF WHEN THEY TAKE A LITTLE TIGER SNOOZE?
April 2, 2012
HELD DOWN A CHAIR ALL NIGHT SO THAT IT WOULDN’T FLY AWAY AND HURT SOMEBODY
LIKE A BOSS
April 3, 2012
BRAVE
MEN DIE A SINGLE DEATH, COWARDS DIE A THOUSAND. AS FOR PEOPLE WHO
AREN’T REALLY COWARDS BUT AREN’T LOOKING FOR TROUBLE EITHER, I’M NOT
SURE HOW MANY TIMES THEY DIE. IT’S PROBABLY SOMEWHERE BETWEEN 1 AND
1000.
April 7, 2012
WAR DOES NOT DETERMINE WHO IS RIGHT, ONLY WHO IS LEFT.
April 8, 2012
IT’S A GOOD THING WE DON’T MAKE GUMMI BEARS BECAUSE I WOULD NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE AND WE WOULD NEVER MAKE A PROFIT.
April 10, 2012
I am, officially, the hardest working man in this facility. Fact.
April 11, 2012
I AIN’T SAYIN’ SHE’S A GOLD DIGGER…NO, WAIT, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I’M SAYING. SHE’S TOTALLY A GOLD DIGGER.
April 16, 2012
SLEEPZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
April 17, 2012
IF I INHALED AS MUCH COCAINE AS I HAVE POWDER IN THIS PLACE, I’D BE TWEAKED OUT OF MY MIND FOR A YEAR
April 19, 2012
BUSINESS IS THE ART OF EXTRACTING MONEY FROM ANOTHER MAN’S POCKET WITHOUT RESORTING TO VIOLENCE.
April 20, 2012
HABIT IS EITHER THE BEST OF SERVANTS OR THE WORST OF MASTERS
April 27, 2012
DISREGARD FEMALES, ACQUIRE CURRENCY.
April 28, 2012
PURGE
LIGHT SYSTEM MESSED UP AFTER PURGING ON TWO DIFFERENT LOTS. PURGE LIGHT
WAS CLEARED AFTER SUCCESFUL PURGE BUT REAPPEARED WHEN SWAPPING THE ARM
FROM THE PURGE BIN TO THE HOPPER CAR. PLEASE CONTACT YOUR OVERPAID
COMPUTER PROGRAMMER TO FIX THE PROBLEM.
May 9, 2012
WORKING OVERTIME TODAY BECAUSE THAT’S HOW DADDY GETS PAID.
May 4, 2012
FUN
FACT: IF YOU DROP THE NEW HOPPERS ONTO THE GROUND WITH THE FORKLIFT
WHILE THEY’RE EMPTY, IT MAKES A REALLY LOUD GONG SOUND. SO AWESOME.
May 13, 2012
I AM THE VERY MODEL OF A MODERN MAJOR GENERAL.
May 15, 2012
STATION IS BACKED UP DUE TO THE SUCK
I
MANAGED TO GET MY HANDS ON TWO OF THE GOLD SAFETY PINS. NOW I WEAR THEM
ON THE LAPELS OF MY WORK SHIRT SO THAT EVERYONE KNOWS I’M THE HMFIC. IF
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, GOOGLE HARDER.
May 17, 2012
BOWED UP ALL NIGHT WITH LOADING AT *********. THIS IS SOME BS.
INTELETRAC
ROUNDS NOT DONE. DIDN’T HAVE TIME. THE SYSTEM HAS NOT EXPLODED, THE
EARTH HAS NOT TURNED BACKWARDS IN ITS ORBIT, THEREFORE I CAN PRESUME
THAT EVERYTHING IS RUNNING NORMALLY AND MISSING ONE NIGHT OF ROUNDS
ISN’T GOING TO DESTROY THE UNIVERSE. ANYONE WHO DISAGREES CAN GET BENT.
May 19, 2012
TESTING
OUT NEW GRADE TONIGHT IN THE HOPES THAT IT WILL PRODUCE LESS
FINES/STREAMERS. FAILING THAT, IT IS HOPED IT WILL BE A VIABLE
REPLACEMENT FOR “PINK SLIME” IN PUBLIC SCHOOL CAFETERIAS.
THIS PRODUCT IS OFFICALLY FIT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION AND WEAPONS GRADE TESTING.
May 20, 2012
LOADED
OUT THE EXPERIMENTAL GRADES AT TRAIN 2 IN THE HOPES OF PRODUCING THE
ULTIMATE BIOLOGICAL WEAPON. DIDN’T WORK, ALL WE GOT WAS A BUNCH OF
PLASTIC.
SPENT
MY LUNCH BREAK EATING A BUNCH OF MISTLETOE AND JUST FREAKING OUT FOR A
GOOD HALF AN HOUR. EVENTUALLY RECOVERED AND HAD SOME SERIOUS MUNCHIES.
IN
CASE YOU’RE WONDERING, YES IT IS PERFECTLY LEGAL TO EAT MISTLETOE IN
THE STATE OF TEXAS AND ALSO PERU. BUT NOT GUATAMALA. NEVER GUATAMALA.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S POISONOUS? WHEN DID THAT RULE GO INTO EFFECT? THAT MIGHT EXPLAIN THE SHAKES AND BRUTAL, BLOODY VOMITING.
ALSO, THE ****** SCALES ARE TOTALLY SCREWED UP. I ACCEPT NO RESPONSIBILITY AND KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ANY FIRES.
May 22, 2012
IT’S
DAYS LIKE TODAY (AND EVERY OTHER DAY) THAT TRULY MAKE ME REALIZE JUST
HOW USELESS PEOPLE CAN BE. THE INCOMPETENCE OF SOME OF THESE SLACK-JAWED
YOKELS IS STAGGERING.
May 27, 2012
I
PERFORMED AN INTRICATE AND DANGEROUS BLOOD RITUAL TO SUMMON A CREW OF
DEMONS TO DO MY BIDDING AND OPERATE THE STATION FOR ME WHILE I KICKED
BACK AND DID NOTHING. HOWEVER, THE DEMONS IMMEDIATELY FORMED A UNION
DEMANDING BETTER PAY AND THREE WEEKS OF VACATION A YEAR. I WASN’T HAVING
ANY OF THAT ACTION, SO I IMMEDIATELY STUFFED THEM ALL INTO A TRAIN CAR
AND SHIPPED THEM OUT.
May 28, 2012
I’M
SO TIRED THAT I KEEP SEEING THINGS OUT OF THE CORNER OF MY EYE. THEY
LOOK VAGUELY LIKE HOPE, HAPPINESS, AND DREAMS. THAT’S HOW I KNOW THEY’RE
NOT REAL.
May 29, 2012
A
BUNCH OF AUDITORS ARE COMING NEXT MONTH TO DO SOME “AUDITING.” THAT
MEANS THEY’RE COMING TO FIRE PEOPLE WHO DON’T MEASURE UP. WE WERE SENT A
LIST OF “GUIDELINES” ON HOW TO ACT WHEN THE AUDITORS ARE AROUND. I’M
DEFINITELY FOLLOWING ALL OF THE SUGGESTIONS LISTED IN THE “DON’T DO
THIS” CATEGORY.
June 7, 2012
I TYPE MY LOGS IN ERAS BOLD FONT CAUSE THAT’S HOW I ROLL
June 14, 2012
ONCE AGAIN, DID AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE.
GOT IN A FAIR NUMBER OF NAPS. STILL NEED MORE SLEEP.
June 15, 2012
GOT SOME GOOD NAPS IN BUT STILL DAMN TIRED. THINK GOD FOR FRIDAY.
June 21, 2012
LET
THE RECORD SHOW THAT THE SOUTH ARM CONTINUES TO LEAK PELLETS, CREATING A
POTENTIAL DEATH TRAP FROM WHICH NO HUMAN CAN ESCAPE. I WILL NOT BE
RESPONSIBLE FOR CLEANING UP ANY BODIES AND/OR BLOOD.
“CALL ME, MAYBE” CONTINUES TO BE A TOP HIT ON THE RADIO AND ITUNES, PROVING THAT SOCIETY IS DOOMED TO COLLAPSE.
ONCE AGAIN, NOT CARING ABOUT ANYTHING IN THIS PLACE HAS PROVED TO BE A VIABLE STRATEGY FOR GETTING NOTHING DONE.
June 22, 2012
TOOK NUMEROUS NAPS
GOT MY DONUT ON
INSANITY
IS DOING THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER AGAIN WHILE THINKING THAT YOU’LL
GET A DIFFERENT RESULT. IF THAT’S THE CASE THEN THIS PLACE HAS
DEFINITELY DRIVEN ME CRAZY.
June 24, 2012
A ARM OF ******* IS STILL LEAKING PELLETS. THIS OFFICALLY MEANS MAINTENANCE IS LAZY, WHICH SHOULD COME AS NO SURPRISE.
SWEPT DOWN PELLET SPILL JUST BECAUSE I’M A REALLY NICE GUY
ATE SOME SAMMINCHES, CONVINCED A GIRL ON TWITTER TO SHOW ME HER TITS, AND OTHERWISE MADE EXCELLENT USE OF MY TIME
June 29, 2012
LEETOOK OVER FOR **** AFTER ARRIVING AT 6 AM BECAUSE LEE IS AWESOME LIKE THAT.June 30, 2012
DID NOT BREAK A SWEAT
DID NOT GIVE A DAMN
July 1, 2012
I’M
LEAVING ON A JET PLANE, DON’T KNOW IF I’LL BE BACK IN THIS RAGGED BITCH
AGAIN. ACTUALLY THERE ARE NO JET PLANES INVOLVED, JUST LAYING IN BED
AND GETTING FUCKED UP, SO IT’S ALMOST LIKE FLYING. EXCEPT I CAN TASTE
COLORS.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
A Vicious Attack
I'm getting a little tired of hearing Christians complain about being persecuted because people are bringing the hammer down on them for their stances on homosexuality. I'm tired of hearing Christians complaining that their victims of vicious attacks when people disagree with them or say that their beliefs are bullshit.
You fuckers don't know what a vicious attack is.
A vicious attack is being beaten to death for your beliefs. A vicious attack is being chained to a truck and dragged to death for your beliefs. A vicious attack is being hanged in a public square, having your head cut off, being dragged from your home in the middle of the night and "disappearing". A vicious attack is being nailed to a fucking cross and hung up to die slowly with a couple of thieves after walking around healing and feeding people and preaching LOVE AND TOLERANCE.
A lot of Christians like to embrace their faith while forgetting that there are centuries of baggage that come with it. Your faith didn't come into the dominant position it enjoys today because of God's will or because people genuinely embrace your ideas. It became so prominent because the people who practiced who came before you murdered anyone who disagreed with them. Your faith was built on a foundation of blood and war. For all the people who have done good things in the name of your God, so many more have killed, raped and pillaged in His name as well.
I know these things because I've read history. I don't pretend that the only thing you need to know about Christianity is found in the bible. You may want everyone to believe that you're tolerant and loving, but when you express ideas like "Gays are evil" or "Gays don't deserve the same right as us" then the only thing I see is the legacy of blood on your hands, blood that no baptism will wash away.
If you're the kind of Christian who doesn't believe these things, then you should already know I'm not talking to you. You shouldn't even have to defend yourself when people like me complain about Christians, because you know you're not like them. And there is a difference, a divide, between Christians who preach ignorance and hate in the guise of "love and peace" and Christians who live what they believe, who show who they are by their actions and not by their words.
I don't hate Christians and I never have. But I do hate people who call themselves Christians yet prove themselves to be false with every word that comes out of their mouth. If you feel like you're being attacked by people who complain about you, maybe instead of getting angry and lashing out you should stop and ask yourself why you feel that way and, more importantly, why people are attacking you. I'm not expecting you to pay for the sins that others who came before you committed. But when you follow the same line of logic they did by saying "I'm right because my magic book says so" then you live up to that heritage and the vicious attacks will keep coming.
"Right now three things remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love."
- 1 Corinthians 13:13
You fuckers don't know what a vicious attack is.
A vicious attack is being beaten to death for your beliefs. A vicious attack is being chained to a truck and dragged to death for your beliefs. A vicious attack is being hanged in a public square, having your head cut off, being dragged from your home in the middle of the night and "disappearing". A vicious attack is being nailed to a fucking cross and hung up to die slowly with a couple of thieves after walking around healing and feeding people and preaching LOVE AND TOLERANCE.
A lot of Christians like to embrace their faith while forgetting that there are centuries of baggage that come with it. Your faith didn't come into the dominant position it enjoys today because of God's will or because people genuinely embrace your ideas. It became so prominent because the people who practiced who came before you murdered anyone who disagreed with them. Your faith was built on a foundation of blood and war. For all the people who have done good things in the name of your God, so many more have killed, raped and pillaged in His name as well.
I know these things because I've read history. I don't pretend that the only thing you need to know about Christianity is found in the bible. You may want everyone to believe that you're tolerant and loving, but when you express ideas like "Gays are evil" or "Gays don't deserve the same right as us" then the only thing I see is the legacy of blood on your hands, blood that no baptism will wash away.
If you're the kind of Christian who doesn't believe these things, then you should already know I'm not talking to you. You shouldn't even have to defend yourself when people like me complain about Christians, because you know you're not like them. And there is a difference, a divide, between Christians who preach ignorance and hate in the guise of "love and peace" and Christians who live what they believe, who show who they are by their actions and not by their words.
I don't hate Christians and I never have. But I do hate people who call themselves Christians yet prove themselves to be false with every word that comes out of their mouth. If you feel like you're being attacked by people who complain about you, maybe instead of getting angry and lashing out you should stop and ask yourself why you feel that way and, more importantly, why people are attacking you. I'm not expecting you to pay for the sins that others who came before you committed. But when you follow the same line of logic they did by saying "I'm right because my magic book says so" then you live up to that heritage and the vicious attacks will keep coming.
"Right now three things remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love."
- 1 Corinthians 13:13
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
When I Grow Up
I remember the first time I used magic. I was ten years old and that day in school our teacher has asked us what we wanted to be when we grow up. It was career week at school, leading up to the last days before summer break. There had been a Take Your child to Work Day and a day when other kids moms and dads came into the class to tell us what they did. I didn’t get to participate in any of those things ,since I didn’t even know who my parents were. I lived with my guardian, Zeke, and he was too busy for that kind of stuff. I looked after myself a lot and Zeke couldn’t even help me with my project for the last day of school, What I Want to be When I Grow Up.
Because no one ever says “I want to be a sorcerer when I grow up.”
And with good reason. Sorcerers are cursed folk born with bad blood. Those high and mighty men who stand on the pulpit every Sunday are always spitting out some nonsense about how people are sinners from birth just because they’re human and that they need Jesus or they’re going to Hell even if they’re just babies or little kids. Now all that is a bunch of bullshit and don’t let no one tell you different. But for sorcerers it’s actually true. Being a sorcerer ain’t so much something you learn as it is something you’re born to. And you have to embrace it, or when Old Scratch comes calling there won’t be anyone around who can save you. It’s a curse and like a lot of bad things you get handed in life, you have to learn to deal with it and overcome.
I hadn’t been going to that school for very long and I didn’t have any friends. Most of the kids stayed away from me and I stayed away from them. But there was this one girl that I was sweet on named Rachel. She was different from the other girls because she was a true blue tomboy who’d rather spend her time running around on the playground playing baseball or basketball instead of gossiping with the girls. So it didn’t surprise me at all when she got up in front of the whole class and declared that she wanted to be a firefighter when she grew up.
A lot of the boys in class laughed at that and gave her a lot of lip about how being a firefighter was a boy’s job. I had noticed that Rachel had a hot temper when it came to people telling her she couldn’t do things because she as a girl. When recess came around that day, she showed those boys just how good a firefighter she could be by grabbing the water hose next to the building and letting that bunch of boys have it as they were walking back inside.
Rachel lived near where me and Zeke were staying at the time, so after school I decided to follow Rachel home and talk to her. I told her that I liked her and that I thought she’d be a great firefighter. I think she was a little put off by the strange, quiet kid that no one talked to suddenly coming up and telling her this but she smiled after I said it and said thanks. Now I wish I could tell you that then was the moment when Rachel and I first fell in love and were childhood sweethearts until we got married after high school and lived happily ever after. In fact, the only good thing that came out of that whole day was that both of us were still alive when we went to bed that night.
I mentioned the name Old Scratch before. In case you didn’t know, the reason sorcerers are cursed is because we all got a bit of His power inside of us. They got a lot of names for it but the long and the short of it is someone took some of Old Scratch’s power a long time ago and he’s been trying to get it back ever since. Every time he gets his hands on a sorcerer, he can take some of that power back. And every time a sorcerer has kids, that power gets cut up into smaller parts. No matter how small that magical spark, a sorcerer can always get stronger but the more sorcerers there are the harder Old Scratch has to work to hunt us all down. And he don’t like that one bit. So he sends his Hellspawn to track us all down.
I met my first Hellspawn that day walking home with Rachel. They can smell us when we come into our power and they’re always on the hunt. Zeke had tried explaining it to me but I had never really understood the whole thing since I couldn’t use magic yet like Zeke could. So I never worried about it like I should have. Maybe if I had, that day wouldn’t have ended in such a mess. Kids are always scared of the dark, under the bed and in the closet, because they think that’s where all the monsters are hiding. Don’t buy into any of that nonsense. It was a beautiful spring day, with chirping birds and barking dogs, when that monster screamed and came flying at me from out of nowhere.
Zeke had explained to me about magic and had even showed some to me. He said that when I came into my power that he’d teach me more and he did. The one thing he wouldn’t show me, though, was Hellfire. He said it was the first magic every sorcerer learned how to use and it was the last magic we should use as well. Hellfire isn’t natural. It burns a sick, green color and it smells like sulfur and brimstone. That smell attracts the Hellspawn, so even if you kill one with it more will be coming. Hellfire was powerful and dangerous and sorcerers who used too much of it always ended up dead. Because I never knew when I’d come into my power, there was one lesson Zeke made sure that I knew above all others back then.
A handful of Hellfire goes a long way.
It came to me a lot easier than I would have imagined. All I had to do was think about it, point, and I blasted that monster off of Rachel and put it clean through a hundred year old oak tree. The Hellspawn didn’t get back up but unfortunately the tree fell on top of it and the Hellfire grabbed onto all that wood and spread faster than you could blink.
Hellfire in small doses isn’t much different than regular fire. Outside of the color and the smell, it just burns hotter and faster. But put enough of it together to burn down something big, like a tree the size of a house, and it’s a terrifying sight to see. The flames rise up high into the air and seem like they’re trying to suck away all the life around them. Beneath the crackling sound of flame consuming wood I could hear the moans of the damned and in those huge tongues of flame that reached into the air I could see souls trying to claw their way out, reaching for me like I’d taken everything good in their world and they wanted it back with a vengeance.
When you see something like that, something that was created by your own hand, it leaves you without a doubt in your mind that you are truly damned. It also doesn’t help when the girl you like looks at you like a monster, even after you saved her, and runs away crying and screaming for you to stay away from her.
I didn’t have time to chase after her and convince her I was actually a really decent guy once you got to know me. I heard the scream of another Hellspawn and realized that the one I’d killed wasn’t the only one tracking me. I ran home. Before it was all said and done, half the neighborhood was in flames from all the Hellfire I threw around. I don’t know if anyone got hurt. I was too busy running for my life. Zeke eventually found me and dealt with the last of the Hellspawn but we couldn’t stay after that. We left town that night and crossed the state line before midnight.
You learn to deal with the guilt of all the destruction you cause, the lives you’ve taken and the people you can’t save. It’s been a long, hard road since the day I became a sorcerer and the road heading forward looks even longer. But I still think about Rachel sometimes and I can’t help but wonder what my life would have been like if I had gotten the chance to grow up and be what I really wanted, like all the other kids in that class.
After all, the world could always use one more firefighter.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Shoot From the Hip
It's been almost two months since my last blog post. I've been wanting to write for about two weeks now but I've seen so busy with work that every time I sit down to do a blog entry about something, I get about halfway through then work calls so I get distracted and then sit down to resume and I can't get my mind back into what I was writing. Guess I need to try to make some time either before or after work, much as I'm doing now. I decided that for this post I'm going to just shoot from the hip and put down an update of what's been going on with my life and whatever falls out of my brain as I talk about it. Strap yourself in, you've been warned.
So earlier this year I had talked about my six week bout with suicidal depression. If you want all the details on that, just go back a few posts and you'll see what I'm talking about. Since then I've actually been doing so much better. I had intended to go see a shrink about the problem but I was still searching for one and, again, the work thing was making it harder to not only find one but to make the time to see one. Fortunately, I was able to pull myself out of my funk with a little inspiration.
A guy that I work with and who I share a number of life philosophies with told me about a book he was reading called Rich Dad, Poor Dad. He said that the author gave you a new perspective on how you looked at your money, your job, and your life in general. Ultimately the book was about investing money and since I liked what it sounded like I downloaded the sample for the Nook. I liked what I saw, I bought the full version and finished it in two days.
I'm not going to go into the details of this book. I will say that if you're looking for technical advice on money and investing, this isn't the best book for it. But it is a book that completely changed my viewpoint and actually inspired me to get off my ass and start doing something about my life. It told me things about how I was spending my money and what I was doing with my life, things that I had heard before from other people, but this helped to remind and reinforce those ideas that I had forgotten in my depression. I realized how crazy I must have been only a few months before when I had worked my ass off to get out of debt only to find myself depressed because after all that work it seemed nothing had changed and I didn't know what to do about it.
I realized after reading this book that what I was missing was a plan. My plan for the last several years was simply "Get out of debt." After I was out of debt, there was nothing after that. I hadn't planned for the next step because I was so focused on the first one. I had forgotten what I had learned from so many people over the last two years but this book reminded me of those lessons. It also reminded me of the one thing that you have to be doing in your life no matter who you are or what you want.
Plan for the endgame.
When those words went through my brain, like magic things started falling into place. It was staggering how clear everything in my world became. Above all else in life you have to have a plan for the endgame. Whatever end you're trying to achieve, if you're not planning up to the very end of it, you'll never get there or you'll struggle and stumble the entire way. The plan will change with time. The steps I have to take will change with every success or every failure I experience. But I know now that as long as I keep making my plans and following them, as long as I stay on top of what I've laid out for myself, that I can push ahead and that nothing will stop me.
I probably still need to see a psychiatrist. I know that my brain isn't quite right and that there are some things that positive thinking alone won't fix. But the most amazing thing about following this past for the last month is that I no longer hate my job. Well, I don't hate it as much as I did. I see it as a means to an end, I know how to use it now, and I know that I don't have to be stuck here forever. I've been working a lot lately but rather then make me angry or resentful, I'm just tired. I could definitely use a few days off. But I always think about the money I'm making and my plan for that money. It isn't just stuff to pay the bills anymore. It's the see I'm going to grow into an empire for myself. It starts here and if I have to work my ass off now to be able to enjoy my life later, so be it. I'll take all their money and I'll walk out of there knowing that I don't need them, I'm just using them.
Never forget to plan for the endgame. You have to be responsible for your own destiny and you have to make a plan. Even if your plan is as simple as "Live my dream" then do it and find a way to go after it. Don't say things like "I can't do this because" or "It won't work because". When you say those things, you've already lost or settled for less than what you want.
And if you aren't working your nuts off to get everything you want, to TAKE everything you want, you're just wasting everyone's time.
So earlier this year I had talked about my six week bout with suicidal depression. If you want all the details on that, just go back a few posts and you'll see what I'm talking about. Since then I've actually been doing so much better. I had intended to go see a shrink about the problem but I was still searching for one and, again, the work thing was making it harder to not only find one but to make the time to see one. Fortunately, I was able to pull myself out of my funk with a little inspiration.
A guy that I work with and who I share a number of life philosophies with told me about a book he was reading called Rich Dad, Poor Dad. He said that the author gave you a new perspective on how you looked at your money, your job, and your life in general. Ultimately the book was about investing money and since I liked what it sounded like I downloaded the sample for the Nook. I liked what I saw, I bought the full version and finished it in two days.
I'm not going to go into the details of this book. I will say that if you're looking for technical advice on money and investing, this isn't the best book for it. But it is a book that completely changed my viewpoint and actually inspired me to get off my ass and start doing something about my life. It told me things about how I was spending my money and what I was doing with my life, things that I had heard before from other people, but this helped to remind and reinforce those ideas that I had forgotten in my depression. I realized how crazy I must have been only a few months before when I had worked my ass off to get out of debt only to find myself depressed because after all that work it seemed nothing had changed and I didn't know what to do about it.
I realized after reading this book that what I was missing was a plan. My plan for the last several years was simply "Get out of debt." After I was out of debt, there was nothing after that. I hadn't planned for the next step because I was so focused on the first one. I had forgotten what I had learned from so many people over the last two years but this book reminded me of those lessons. It also reminded me of the one thing that you have to be doing in your life no matter who you are or what you want.
Plan for the endgame.
When those words went through my brain, like magic things started falling into place. It was staggering how clear everything in my world became. Above all else in life you have to have a plan for the endgame. Whatever end you're trying to achieve, if you're not planning up to the very end of it, you'll never get there or you'll struggle and stumble the entire way. The plan will change with time. The steps I have to take will change with every success or every failure I experience. But I know now that as long as I keep making my plans and following them, as long as I stay on top of what I've laid out for myself, that I can push ahead and that nothing will stop me.
I probably still need to see a psychiatrist. I know that my brain isn't quite right and that there are some things that positive thinking alone won't fix. But the most amazing thing about following this past for the last month is that I no longer hate my job. Well, I don't hate it as much as I did. I see it as a means to an end, I know how to use it now, and I know that I don't have to be stuck here forever. I've been working a lot lately but rather then make me angry or resentful, I'm just tired. I could definitely use a few days off. But I always think about the money I'm making and my plan for that money. It isn't just stuff to pay the bills anymore. It's the see I'm going to grow into an empire for myself. It starts here and if I have to work my ass off now to be able to enjoy my life later, so be it. I'll take all their money and I'll walk out of there knowing that I don't need them, I'm just using them.
Never forget to plan for the endgame. You have to be responsible for your own destiny and you have to make a plan. Even if your plan is as simple as "Live my dream" then do it and find a way to go after it. Don't say things like "I can't do this because" or "It won't work because". When you say those things, you've already lost or settled for less than what you want.
And if you aren't working your nuts off to get everything you want, to TAKE everything you want, you're just wasting everyone's time.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
The Hunter's Hunted
Liara looked back over her shoulder as she ran. The sun was starting to disappear behind the mountain ridge to the west and she knew she didn't have much time. It was terror that drove her forward, forcing her to ignore the ache of her legs and the burning in her legs. If she stopped, if she even slowed down for a moment, she would die.
Silently she cursed Gregor even as she wept for him openly, hot tears coursing down her cheeks as grief and fear drove her on. He had convinced her to leave the protection of the town when it was so close to nightfall, intent on showing her a hidden grotto deep in the woods. She had known what he wanted and despite her objections, she had been willing to give it to him. Only woodsmen and soldiers from the church ventured that far into the wilderness on their own, but it was the opportunity for them to be alone together that had finally convinced her to go with him. She had left her father's shop early, telling him that she wanted to pick up some things from the market before it closed. She had felt guilty when he had so readily agreed but all of that had been forgotten when she met Gregor at east gate and had ridden out with him.
The grotto he had found was beautiful, filled with wild flowers and heavy tree branches hanging overhead. A small pool of water was fed by a stream that led deeper into the forest. It wasn't long after arriving that their arms were around each other, their hands roaming over each other as they began to undress. They were young and in love. Gregor hadn't asked to marry her yet but she felt like if she gave him this, he finally would.
All of that was gone now. Gregor was gone. They had ignored how far the sun had set in the west and they were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't realize the danger until the horse shrieked in terror. The creatures set upon it first, monsters with dark fur and snarling voices, moving so fast and with such violence that Liara hadn't realized what they were. The horse was torn apart by claw and fang, it's throat ripped upon, it's guts spilled out onto the ground as the werewolves feasted on it. Gregor had risen first, intent on stopping them. But he had no weapon in his hand and he was too late to realize the mistake he had made in drawing their attention. He screamed at her to run, grabbed a fallen branch and charged at them with a yell of fury.
The largest of the monsters towered over Gregor and leapt at him, hitting him hard enough to silence his battle cry and dragging him into the forest with a single bound. The others had followed after him and that was when she heard Gregor screaming in terror. She didn't know what they were doing to him but all she had to do was look at the butchered remains of the horse before she turned and fled the way they had come. Eventually, Gregor's screams were silenced, either because he was dead or because she was far enough away not to hear them. She didn't stop. Branches slapped her in the face as she fled, bramble bushes cut at her clothes and skin. She knew she was bleeding, that they would be able to smell her blood and find her. That was what the stories said. They were just like any animal, hunting by scent. But she couldn't stop and tend to her wounds. All she could do was run.
When she emerged from the forest she found herself on the main road that led back to town. The sun was nearly gone and the cover of nightfall was fast approaching. If she could make it to the town's gates she would be safe behind the wards and weapons that the town guard used to protect them. With nothing between her and home but open ground, she ran as fast as she could. The howling started soon after that.
It wasn't long before the town was within sight. The torches on the walls and at the city gates were a beacon of hope and she could hear the clear ringing of the church bell. They had heard the howling too! The soldiers would be coming, bearing the swords inlaid with holy silver and arrows tipped with the same. All she had to do was make it to the gates before the monsters got her.
The howl sounded again and she heard a snarl near her back. She risked a glance over her shoulder and had only a moment to widen her eyes in shock before the beast pounced upon her and crushed her to the ground. She screamed in terror, trying to push it away from her, but her strength was nothing compared to the beast. The shouts of soldiers coming out of the gate reached her ears before the beast wrapped a massive claw around her waist and dragged her into the woods. It moved with incredible speed and grace, passing through trees like a horse running on an open plain. Liara struggled to escape it's grasp, she screamed so the soldiers would know where she was. She prayed. She prayed to God to save her, to spare her, to forgive her for her sins with Gregor.
There was no one to answer her call. The beast ran on and on, out of sight and sound of the soldiers, until she couldn't even hear the hopeful ringing of the church bell. It carried her deeper into the dark, on into the night until her throat was too ragged to scream anymore and there was only sobs. Only when it came to a clearing in the wood did it throw her to the ground. She looked at the beast in terror as it descended upon her.
She found she had the strength for one last scream.
- - - - - - -
This is something I've had in my head for awhile. I'm having writer's block issues, so I'm going to try and knock out these little random ideas I have in my head in the hopes of clearing some space. Don't expect this to turn into a story or a series. It's just one scene I've been wanting to write. Enjoy!
Silently she cursed Gregor even as she wept for him openly, hot tears coursing down her cheeks as grief and fear drove her on. He had convinced her to leave the protection of the town when it was so close to nightfall, intent on showing her a hidden grotto deep in the woods. She had known what he wanted and despite her objections, she had been willing to give it to him. Only woodsmen and soldiers from the church ventured that far into the wilderness on their own, but it was the opportunity for them to be alone together that had finally convinced her to go with him. She had left her father's shop early, telling him that she wanted to pick up some things from the market before it closed. She had felt guilty when he had so readily agreed but all of that had been forgotten when she met Gregor at east gate and had ridden out with him.
The grotto he had found was beautiful, filled with wild flowers and heavy tree branches hanging overhead. A small pool of water was fed by a stream that led deeper into the forest. It wasn't long after arriving that their arms were around each other, their hands roaming over each other as they began to undress. They were young and in love. Gregor hadn't asked to marry her yet but she felt like if she gave him this, he finally would.
All of that was gone now. Gregor was gone. They had ignored how far the sun had set in the west and they were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't realize the danger until the horse shrieked in terror. The creatures set upon it first, monsters with dark fur and snarling voices, moving so fast and with such violence that Liara hadn't realized what they were. The horse was torn apart by claw and fang, it's throat ripped upon, it's guts spilled out onto the ground as the werewolves feasted on it. Gregor had risen first, intent on stopping them. But he had no weapon in his hand and he was too late to realize the mistake he had made in drawing their attention. He screamed at her to run, grabbed a fallen branch and charged at them with a yell of fury.
The largest of the monsters towered over Gregor and leapt at him, hitting him hard enough to silence his battle cry and dragging him into the forest with a single bound. The others had followed after him and that was when she heard Gregor screaming in terror. She didn't know what they were doing to him but all she had to do was look at the butchered remains of the horse before she turned and fled the way they had come. Eventually, Gregor's screams were silenced, either because he was dead or because she was far enough away not to hear them. She didn't stop. Branches slapped her in the face as she fled, bramble bushes cut at her clothes and skin. She knew she was bleeding, that they would be able to smell her blood and find her. That was what the stories said. They were just like any animal, hunting by scent. But she couldn't stop and tend to her wounds. All she could do was run.
When she emerged from the forest she found herself on the main road that led back to town. The sun was nearly gone and the cover of nightfall was fast approaching. If she could make it to the town's gates she would be safe behind the wards and weapons that the town guard used to protect them. With nothing between her and home but open ground, she ran as fast as she could. The howling started soon after that.
It wasn't long before the town was within sight. The torches on the walls and at the city gates were a beacon of hope and she could hear the clear ringing of the church bell. They had heard the howling too! The soldiers would be coming, bearing the swords inlaid with holy silver and arrows tipped with the same. All she had to do was make it to the gates before the monsters got her.
The howl sounded again and she heard a snarl near her back. She risked a glance over her shoulder and had only a moment to widen her eyes in shock before the beast pounced upon her and crushed her to the ground. She screamed in terror, trying to push it away from her, but her strength was nothing compared to the beast. The shouts of soldiers coming out of the gate reached her ears before the beast wrapped a massive claw around her waist and dragged her into the woods. It moved with incredible speed and grace, passing through trees like a horse running on an open plain. Liara struggled to escape it's grasp, she screamed so the soldiers would know where she was. She prayed. She prayed to God to save her, to spare her, to forgive her for her sins with Gregor.
There was no one to answer her call. The beast ran on and on, out of sight and sound of the soldiers, until she couldn't even hear the hopeful ringing of the church bell. It carried her deeper into the dark, on into the night until her throat was too ragged to scream anymore and there was only sobs. Only when it came to a clearing in the wood did it throw her to the ground. She looked at the beast in terror as it descended upon her.
She found she had the strength for one last scream.
- - - - - - -
This is something I've had in my head for awhile. I'm having writer's block issues, so I'm going to try and knock out these little random ideas I have in my head in the hopes of clearing some space. Don't expect this to turn into a story or a series. It's just one scene I've been wanting to write. Enjoy!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Confessional Lee
There's some things I've wanted to talk about for awhile but I really haven't been able to bring myself to do it. Mostly because I just haven't had the motivation and also because I've been afraid to do so. So I suppose you could think of this as something of a confessional.
Firstly, I want to talk about my name. Everyone who has read my blog or followed me on Twitter knows me as Lee Chambers. However, this isn't my real name. Maybe some people thought that was obvious, maybe some didn't, but I felt the need to make that clear. My real, legal name is not Lee Chambers. It's a name I created years ago when I started writing erotica and I use it to protect myself in case someone from my real life was to come across my writing or my Twitter account. The internet can be a dangerous place when you have to worry about losing your jobs or your friends when they discover what you do in your spare time. I've read stories and known people online that this has happened to. It's never pretty and it's not something that I want to have to go through.
Secondly, more importantly, is that I've been fighting with depression for some time now. There's a long story full of sighs that I could go into about it but the biggest part I want to address is how my depression seems to have taken a turn for the worst in the last several months.
Near the end of October I started feeling down in the dumps. This isn't unusual for me as there have been times where I've had low periods, especially in the last year when I turned thirty and my job became something that was tolerable to a job I absolutely despised. It's also a job that I can't simply walk out of easily. I've felt for a long time like my life was going no where and these feelings only helped feed the depression. At first I was able to ignore it or just kind of shrug it off. I knew if I just soldiered on eventually the demons would get off my back and I would come out of the slump. Only the slump didn't go away. It stayed on. For nearly two months.
I don't know what changed. Maybe it was the holidays. Maybe it was the hyper-speed start up to another election cycle. Maybe it was a series of things that just managed to break my cynical nature and feel more pessimism than I've ever felt in my life. Whatever the reason, my feelings got worse and worse as the days went by. I love listening to music and it's one of the few real escapes that I have when I'm feeling down. It wasn't enough. I reached a point where I would listen to my music and would start to feel better but as soon as I turned it off it was like the floodgates were just opened back up and all the progress I had made trying to clear my mind just came back even harder.
Then I started thinking about suicide. I don't say this kind of thing lightly. These were serious thoughts that involved serious ideas about how to end my life. When I was a teenager, full of angst and lots of emotions like a lot of kids are, I had thought about suicide then. I've actually thought about it a lot in my life. But when I would think about it, it times when I was really down, there was always a part of my brain that would immediately shut down that avenue of thought. I would ask myself "Maybe it would be better if I were dead." And that part, the strong, unyielding, angry part of me would slap me across the face and say "Absolutely not!" That same voice was there this time, still strong, still angry that I would consider doing something so selfish as to kill myself just because my life was a mess. Suicide would never be an option for that part of me, no matter how bad things got.
But for the first time in my life, that voice started losing strength. Day after day, the negative thoughts in my head would grow stronger, feeding on themselves, reminding me again and again how worthless I was, how useless I was, how much I had fucked up my life, how much it didn't matter, how nothing I did would ever make a difference, how I had done nothing, how I had nothing to live for. The strong voice couldn't keep up. The depression grew and grew. It weighed down on my every day. I worked the job I hated through Thanksgiving. I watched people maul and crush each other in a panic to get whatever cheap shit they wanted to buy for Christmas. I watched as a season I used to love as a child, the time when I would be together with all of my family for a wonderful meal, was turned into something that couldn't even be called a holiday anymore. My family doesn't get together for those meals anymore. Anger and mistrust and family issues have driven us apart so that these days we barely talk to each other.
Eventually something broke. I was sitting at work, in a moment where I had nothing to do and nothing to distract me from my own misery, and I hated my life so much. Suddenly I was having trouble breathing. I didn't have to guess at why. I knew the stress of my depression had created an actual, physical reaction and for a moment I was afraid I was having a heart attack. As I sat there gasping for air, feeling like the demons that had been plaguing me for weeks were now sitting on my chest trying to crush the life out of me, I did everything I could do calm myself and breath. After a few minutes the pressure eased up and I was able to breath again. I spent the rest of my work shift trying to keep the negative thoughts out of my head, fearing that that crushing pressure in my chest might come back, or worse. Then over the next day or two I started to feel incredibly good. I felt like something inside of me had finally cleared out. I haven't felt like that in years. I thought that maybe, finally, I could get over all the negatives in my life and move forward.
But nothing changed. It wasn't long before all the negatives returned. I still hated my job and things there just got worse. I still hated my life, feeling trapped in a situation that is partly of my own making and partly of circumstances that I can't get out of due to my own sense of obligation and honor to people I care about. I looked at all my friends, who have gotten married, had children, raised families and started careers. Nothing is as perfect as it seems, of course. I know none of their lives are all peaches and cream. But I doubt any one of them would look at my life and think that it would be nice to trade places with me, even for a day.
I still have the negatives in my life. I'm trying to figure out a way to change them but I'm not sure that I can. I've pulled myself to a point where I'm trying to find a way to leave my job while feeling that anything else I would go into would simply be a lateral move, more of the same. There's part of me that knows that isn't true but I just can't help but feel that way. Which I'm sure is a bad sign in itself.
I've been thinking about going to see someone about this. If it reached the point of actual physical impairment, then I think there's a real problem that I can't work through on my own. I don't feel like this is something I can talk to my friends or family about. My family is the type that likes to ignore inconvenient problems unless they don't have a choice. My mother's answer to my issues has always been "You just have to give it up to God." My father passed away a few years ago but he was never a man who talked much about his feelings. My friends all have their own problems that they have to deal with and it wouldn't sit right with me to burden them with my own. I don't think they could help me with this anyway and I worry that they would just feel sorry for me or think that I'm weak rather than offering an actual solution.
I'm not sure what I'll do about it. I'm not sure what I can do. But I know I have to do something and I felt that if I could at least put this thing into words, give it a force and a form, something I could see, then maybe it would be a first step to fighting my way through it. I haven't had a relapse of how I felt before, but I've lost that free feeling after that first break. More than anything, I want to get that feeling back.
The other reason I wrote this is because there are a lot of people in my real life and on Twitter that I haven't been speaking to much in the last few weeks. For that I'm sorry. I feel bad because I've been ignoring you, even when you've spoken to me, but I just didn't want to be around anyone this last month, even my closest real life friends.
I've spoken to some of the people online and told them that I was "working through some issues." Some I've talked to and given a bit more of an explanation without going into great detail about it. Well, these are the details and it's a lot more shit than I can put into a 150 word tweet. I hate that I've had to resort to this but I've clearly got problems that I've been fighting all my life and I think now they're finally coming to a head. I feel weak for having to do even this, like I should be able to face this problem on my own and not burden anyone else with it. This isn't like some disease or injury that I would feel justified in asking for help. Maybe that's a guy thing. Maybe that's just a me thing. I don't like to think of myself as the stereotypical male who tries to shrug off his problems and say it's nothing but I guess I am. This isn't nothing.
I don't know what I'm going to do. But I'm hoping this, at least, will give me an idea of where to start.
Firstly, I want to talk about my name. Everyone who has read my blog or followed me on Twitter knows me as Lee Chambers. However, this isn't my real name. Maybe some people thought that was obvious, maybe some didn't, but I felt the need to make that clear. My real, legal name is not Lee Chambers. It's a name I created years ago when I started writing erotica and I use it to protect myself in case someone from my real life was to come across my writing or my Twitter account. The internet can be a dangerous place when you have to worry about losing your jobs or your friends when they discover what you do in your spare time. I've read stories and known people online that this has happened to. It's never pretty and it's not something that I want to have to go through.
Secondly, more importantly, is that I've been fighting with depression for some time now. There's a long story full of sighs that I could go into about it but the biggest part I want to address is how my depression seems to have taken a turn for the worst in the last several months.
Near the end of October I started feeling down in the dumps. This isn't unusual for me as there have been times where I've had low periods, especially in the last year when I turned thirty and my job became something that was tolerable to a job I absolutely despised. It's also a job that I can't simply walk out of easily. I've felt for a long time like my life was going no where and these feelings only helped feed the depression. At first I was able to ignore it or just kind of shrug it off. I knew if I just soldiered on eventually the demons would get off my back and I would come out of the slump. Only the slump didn't go away. It stayed on. For nearly two months.
I don't know what changed. Maybe it was the holidays. Maybe it was the hyper-speed start up to another election cycle. Maybe it was a series of things that just managed to break my cynical nature and feel more pessimism than I've ever felt in my life. Whatever the reason, my feelings got worse and worse as the days went by. I love listening to music and it's one of the few real escapes that I have when I'm feeling down. It wasn't enough. I reached a point where I would listen to my music and would start to feel better but as soon as I turned it off it was like the floodgates were just opened back up and all the progress I had made trying to clear my mind just came back even harder.
Then I started thinking about suicide. I don't say this kind of thing lightly. These were serious thoughts that involved serious ideas about how to end my life. When I was a teenager, full of angst and lots of emotions like a lot of kids are, I had thought about suicide then. I've actually thought about it a lot in my life. But when I would think about it, it times when I was really down, there was always a part of my brain that would immediately shut down that avenue of thought. I would ask myself "Maybe it would be better if I were dead." And that part, the strong, unyielding, angry part of me would slap me across the face and say "Absolutely not!" That same voice was there this time, still strong, still angry that I would consider doing something so selfish as to kill myself just because my life was a mess. Suicide would never be an option for that part of me, no matter how bad things got.
But for the first time in my life, that voice started losing strength. Day after day, the negative thoughts in my head would grow stronger, feeding on themselves, reminding me again and again how worthless I was, how useless I was, how much I had fucked up my life, how much it didn't matter, how nothing I did would ever make a difference, how I had done nothing, how I had nothing to live for. The strong voice couldn't keep up. The depression grew and grew. It weighed down on my every day. I worked the job I hated through Thanksgiving. I watched people maul and crush each other in a panic to get whatever cheap shit they wanted to buy for Christmas. I watched as a season I used to love as a child, the time when I would be together with all of my family for a wonderful meal, was turned into something that couldn't even be called a holiday anymore. My family doesn't get together for those meals anymore. Anger and mistrust and family issues have driven us apart so that these days we barely talk to each other.
Eventually something broke. I was sitting at work, in a moment where I had nothing to do and nothing to distract me from my own misery, and I hated my life so much. Suddenly I was having trouble breathing. I didn't have to guess at why. I knew the stress of my depression had created an actual, physical reaction and for a moment I was afraid I was having a heart attack. As I sat there gasping for air, feeling like the demons that had been plaguing me for weeks were now sitting on my chest trying to crush the life out of me, I did everything I could do calm myself and breath. After a few minutes the pressure eased up and I was able to breath again. I spent the rest of my work shift trying to keep the negative thoughts out of my head, fearing that that crushing pressure in my chest might come back, or worse. Then over the next day or two I started to feel incredibly good. I felt like something inside of me had finally cleared out. I haven't felt like that in years. I thought that maybe, finally, I could get over all the negatives in my life and move forward.
But nothing changed. It wasn't long before all the negatives returned. I still hated my job and things there just got worse. I still hated my life, feeling trapped in a situation that is partly of my own making and partly of circumstances that I can't get out of due to my own sense of obligation and honor to people I care about. I looked at all my friends, who have gotten married, had children, raised families and started careers. Nothing is as perfect as it seems, of course. I know none of their lives are all peaches and cream. But I doubt any one of them would look at my life and think that it would be nice to trade places with me, even for a day.
I still have the negatives in my life. I'm trying to figure out a way to change them but I'm not sure that I can. I've pulled myself to a point where I'm trying to find a way to leave my job while feeling that anything else I would go into would simply be a lateral move, more of the same. There's part of me that knows that isn't true but I just can't help but feel that way. Which I'm sure is a bad sign in itself.
I've been thinking about going to see someone about this. If it reached the point of actual physical impairment, then I think there's a real problem that I can't work through on my own. I don't feel like this is something I can talk to my friends or family about. My family is the type that likes to ignore inconvenient problems unless they don't have a choice. My mother's answer to my issues has always been "You just have to give it up to God." My father passed away a few years ago but he was never a man who talked much about his feelings. My friends all have their own problems that they have to deal with and it wouldn't sit right with me to burden them with my own. I don't think they could help me with this anyway and I worry that they would just feel sorry for me or think that I'm weak rather than offering an actual solution.
I'm not sure what I'll do about it. I'm not sure what I can do. But I know I have to do something and I felt that if I could at least put this thing into words, give it a force and a form, something I could see, then maybe it would be a first step to fighting my way through it. I haven't had a relapse of how I felt before, but I've lost that free feeling after that first break. More than anything, I want to get that feeling back.
The other reason I wrote this is because there are a lot of people in my real life and on Twitter that I haven't been speaking to much in the last few weeks. For that I'm sorry. I feel bad because I've been ignoring you, even when you've spoken to me, but I just didn't want to be around anyone this last month, even my closest real life friends.
I've spoken to some of the people online and told them that I was "working through some issues." Some I've talked to and given a bit more of an explanation without going into great detail about it. Well, these are the details and it's a lot more shit than I can put into a 150 word tweet. I hate that I've had to resort to this but I've clearly got problems that I've been fighting all my life and I think now they're finally coming to a head. I feel weak for having to do even this, like I should be able to face this problem on my own and not burden anyone else with it. This isn't like some disease or injury that I would feel justified in asking for help. Maybe that's a guy thing. Maybe that's just a me thing. I don't like to think of myself as the stereotypical male who tries to shrug off his problems and say it's nothing but I guess I am. This isn't nothing.
I don't know what I'm going to do. But I'm hoping this, at least, will give me an idea of where to start.
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