Don’t work so hard to put yourself in the gutter (like the rest of us)

Extra-topic note:
I know the opinion I'm about to exploit here, can be in the future completely changed and it will make me a hypocrite to the eyes of you, or even senile. I don't care and I don't mind, because in the way I see it, it's better to be called senile for having the right idea, and then, change to the wrong one; than being called senile just for being wrong all the time.

Peer pressure is a fucked up thing, and I don't mean that it is wrong (because sometimes it evens leads to great happenings), but some just can't handle this things and often get the wrong idea.

Sex it's something we're constantly pressured to desire, not only by pears, but also by TV, radio, marketing, all the big social movers and shakers, pressure the individual to join in to the club of non-virgins. It's almost a Sin to reach the age of 40 without having an actual (this excludes masturbation, which is in fact repulse by society in general).

To make a point to this rant I must admit that I'm in the minority, for I'm still a virgin (a rare thing, I know). And I've heard it all; some say I should go for it because it's liberating, others say the first time is a complete disappointment like the next few because you're inexperienced and will lose yourself in so many things you have to take into count, and all say the same in the end you should get it done, as fast as you can to jump to the next thing in life.

Normally my response to this fucking argument is just that it's not time yet. And no I'm not waiting for no one in special, I'm not even searching for a sex partner, there's just something's I'd like to take of the way before, going about sex. And one of this thing is live my parents home, following several others priorities.

But what I want to go about in this bit board isn't my sex life (or better yet non-existing sex life). What I really want to do is talk about the "proud" non-virgins that go strutting throughout the world. Because some sense has to put on to their stupid heads; it's not all good, you know?

(And now I must turn to a particular situation, because this is as opened to the world as it is to my small aggregation of friends)

This pressure, of being part of the "group" has hasted the brainless chicken ginger (and I'm being harsh because it's the best way to get some attention). And I don't know if something went terribly wrong, or something of the sort, the fact is that she's not rejoicing over the deed. It actually appears like if she's waiting for someone to tell her that she's done the right thing, and give her a pat on the back. I can't give you proof of what I'm saying, but something in her actions tells me that there's a big sense of shame, deep in her heart, or at least confusion, because she's "bragging" about it to everyone, but in a way like she's explaining how it all went through, how it was ecstatic and overwhelming. Just to impress the audience, just for show of.

It may well seem to her like she's building a heroic status in the group, by trashing herself, but she isn't. She's putting herself in the gutter for no good reason, which is shamble and unworthy (looking far back), I Just hope she changes her ways, because she's tracking a path that is sure to bring her many grieves.

It's how they warn "pride comes before a fall", and Ginger is setting herself for a great fall, one that it will be hard to get back up on to her feet afterwards.

Because we worry

Lestat of Lioncourt

Plans! Plans! Oh Mighty Plans!

I had a plan to rule the world in the Palm of my hand. It was marvelous, you would not only obey me, you would praise me like a hero. Unemployment there would be no more! Education would be the best on earth! And we would have a strong army built upon hard working men and women such as you!

Our country would leave the deep shit hole we're presently in and would rise above every tower that is beyond us.

So exposed my idea to a committee which delivers the following response:

"Well, it's clear that the committee has agreed that your new policy is a really excellent plan but in view of some of the doubts being expressed, may I propose that I recall that after careful consideration, the considered view of the committee was that while they considered that the proposal met with broad approval in principle, that some of the principles were sufficiently fundamental in principle and some of the considerations so complex and finely balanced in practice, that, in principle, it was proposed that the sensible and prudent practice would be to submit the proposal for more detailed consideration, laying stress on the essential continuity of the new proposal with existing principles, and the principle of the principal arguments which the proposal proposes and propounds for their approval in principle."

So To respect the principle of "what the fuck?

I got lost in the second line and am still looking for my fucking identity", I decided to drop the bloody mess and file a cancelation for the previous plan I exposed. I was rejected the cancelation with the following argument:

"It is characteristic of all committee discussions and decisions that every member has a vivid recollection of them, and that every member's recollection of them differs violently from every other member's recollection; consequently we accept the convention that the official decisions are those and only those which have been officially recorded in the minutes by the officials; from which it emerges with elegant inevitability, that any decision which has been officially reached would have been officially recorded in the minutes by the officials, and any decisions which is not recorded in the minutes by the officials has not been officially reached, even if one or more members believe they can recollect it; so in this particular case, if the decision would have been officially reached, it would have been recorded in the minutes by the officials and it isn't so it wasn't."

Again I don't fucking understood this fucking bureaucratic speech, so I put it to flames set down in my couch and relaxed and remember this take from Garfield:

No matter how well you plan it, whatever it is, it will fall apart. But remember also that not planing is planing to fail. So My plan is to plan so that things fail in order to all fall apart and work out just fine in the end.

At least i think thwt are my intetions... well i don't know maybe i haven't plan it all that well.

Lestat of Lioncourt (or is it?)

I’m affair you placed me in an existential quandary.

After seeing the best of one's work and laughed about the worst one could come up with. I must apologize to my dearest and patient colleagues, for the inconvenience. But one fine gentleman, as I think to be of myself, cannot leave with his mouth shut after such monstrosity. I shall, I must scream throughout the road and avenue, beg for the blood of this feudal and brutal creature.

So to my friend Jack I don't wish any harm – only the above – I prefer the worst in you than the best, for every worst piece of shit you may write gives me less shivers than your rotten best.

Now that I have this strange predicament covered and wiped one's bottom. I must ever-so-slightly, bring upon us a tale of lust and romance… or sloth and greed, any way you put it, will be fine by me, as long as you'll take the responsibility of actually reading this dreadful "stuff".

Now is the time one Sir as myself, indeed, must say "You have been warn", so I will say you have been nicely notified, with the prospering smell of shit, about the horrifying peace of literature r you're about to stumble your eyes upon. So if you'll be brave enough to proceed, do try to enjoy or at least keep any sharpened objects away from your so nicely light eyes.

The story is about a self referring author of a strange blog, saying tales of economics and stuff like wise, and repeating Over and over this Great Post:

"I'm affair you placed me in an existential quandary.

After seeing the best of one's work and laughed about the worst one could come up with. I must apologize to my dearest and patient colleagues, for the inconvenience. But one fine gentleman, as I think to be of myself, cannot leave with his mouth shut after such monstrosity. I shall, I must scream throughout the road and avenue, beg for the blood of this feudal and brutal creature.

So to my friend Jack I don't wish any harm – only the above – I prefer the worst in you than the best, for every worst piece of shit you may write gives me less shivers than your rotten best.

Now that I have this strange predicament covered and wiped one's bottom. I must ever-so-slightly, bring upon us a tale of lust and romance… or sloth and greed, any way you put it, will be fine by me, as long as you'll take the responsibility of actually reading this dreadful "stuff".

Now is the time one Sir as myself, indeed, must say "YOU ARE BEING CONED", so I will say you have been nicely notified, with the prospering smell of shit, about the horrifying peace of literature r you're about to stumble your eyes upon. So if you'll be brave enough to proceed, do try to enjoy or at least keep any sharpened objects away from your so nicely light eyes.

The story is about a self referring author of a strange blog, saying tales of economics and stuff like wise, and repeating Over and over this Great Post:

"I'm affair YOU
placed me in an existential quandary.

After seeing the best of one's work and laughed about the worst one could come up with. I must apologize to my dearest and patient colleagues, for the inconvenience. But one fine gentleman, as I think to be of myself, cannot leave with his mouth shut after such monstrosity. I shall, I must scream throughout the road and avenue, beg for the blood of this feudal and brutal creature.

So to my friend Jack I don't wish any harm – only the above – I prefer the worst in you than the best, for every worst piece of shit you may write gives me less shivers than your rotten best.

Now that I HAVE this strange predicament covered and wiped one's bottom. I must ever-so-slightly, bring upon us a tale of lust and romance… or sloth and greed, any way you put it, will be fine by me, as long as you'll take the responsibility of actually reading this dreadful "stuff".

Now is the time one Sir as myself, indeed, must say "You have BEEN
warn", so I will say you have been nicely notified, with the prospering smell of shit, about the horrifying peace of literature r you're about to stumble your eyes upon. So if you'll be brave enough to proceed, do try to enjoy or at least keep any sharpened objects away from your so nicely light eyes.

The story is about a self referring author of a strange blog, saying tales of economics and stuff like wise, and repeating Over and over this Great Post: CONED TWICE"

And ending With a laugh at his mighty face, because for at least two minutes a dumb reader decided to read through the same post three times. Such amusing ignorance and ingenuity, brings upon a new flame to my slowing beating heart.

Your free range joker

Lestat of Lioncourt

Big Romantic Gestures?

So you think you love her?
And you're preparing the day in wich you'll tell her, you're planning every little thing, trying to make everything perfect.
Maybe a hundred red roses will do the trick. Maybe get on your knees and hold a diamond ring. Maybe stop her in the middle of a sentence and just kiss her. Maybe send her a letter, an email, a text message... Maybe show up at her door and say the three words that are said too much, and yet not enough.

And I say why? Why do it?
Don't get me wrong, I'm a romantic, a dreamer, a perfectionist... But I'm not the kinda guy that goes on saying that. I just think being in love is a damn beautiful feeling to go waving it at the wind, unconsequentially.
I think those three words should be felt and not heard. When I say "I love you" to a girl, I want her to already know it.
And that's not acomplished with big romantic gestures, you get that with the little things.
Telling her you love her is like making a puzzle, little piece by little piece...

Jokes are only funny if truth is alike them

Tales, the tales one once read and now sees on video DVD.

I remember tales my father told me when sitting on my mother's lap, and seeing my grandparents mighty portrait, I remembered like it was just yesterday that I celebrated my 59 years of life.

I remembered giants and fairies in a promiscuous life, flirting little princesses and young of mind princes. With spells and potions, enchanted words and voids of silent.

They were remarkable this tales I once heard, colorful words of love: red for lust and blood, green for greed and hope, yellow for glory and wealth and blue for infinite and young.

Black and white words to build the most beautiful garden if one might say and write in fellow black in so deeply and profound white.

There was a jingle to some of the tales, like those in poems ta-ta-ranane-ta. Mozart envied the tailors for melodies they had and he never enjoyed.

This is a text of liberation, and it's Amazing Grace is Graceful for your amazement, dough senseless.

Words don't need sense when written for the pleasure of just appearing in a paper one day, with all the mistakes the heart desires, one must be careful not to desire too much for love is the worst mistake one can commit, even a murder is easier to explain.

Because is pain is mundane and love is rare and in the presence of both, only fools say what they have is love instead of a lustful and painful crush for the presents of life.

But don't think of me to be one to never commit foolish spoiling activities, for I too have seen the ways and smelled the perfume of the Garden of Eva and Meg. It was great and worrying at the first sight, strange to others and a game to few.

And a gamer I am, in the full sense of the senseless way the sentence must and is read at your eyes for I joke, play and laugh at the faces of you. Because when one doesn't have anyone to laugh with must laugh alone, and so HA HA HA's are delivered to the faces of die.

My friends, do you think I'm crazy now? Of course not you though, me to be crazy before and now you find it certain, don't you?

I did warn my friends socks and sleeves that such event was bound to happen to a Schizophrenic lunatic, such thy socks and sleeves of their feet and shirts.

Admit only to one crazy thing my dears, for loving the best of everyone and despise the worst in all the same one, indifference and full notification of such events in a bored way. Yawn!!!

I hope you've enjoyed this senseless beating on the key, for I enjoyed as much as I enjoyed sex… if I've get any. For lust is such an exciting thing one must keep way for the rest to function properly.

It is a terrible thing for a man to find out that suddenly, through all his life, he has been speaking nothing but the truth. Can you forgive me?

Oscar Saied:

In this world,

there are only two tragedies.

One is not getting

what one wants.

The other... is getting it.

But then again he was Wilde as me.

Have a good one, for I'll will fill myself in lustful syrup, and bath with the wonder dreams angels of heavens and hells.

Lestat of Lioncourt

Happy endings

A story about an heterosexual man falling for an homosexual woman. If anything, it is unpredictable; the characters are not what you expect them to be, they're not as hollywoodesc as they are real. It makes an interesting point on homosexuality: it's rare enough to find the right person, someone who's everything you've ever wanted, why should you still impose limits of gender on that right person?

On the negative side, they yell SO much, and her voice might irritate some sensitive souls...
No happy ending. 7.3/10

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The 3rd best musical I've ever seen. The typical couple-in-love-bad-man-trying-to-separate-them story taken to the extreme both visually and musically. It's a feast to the eyes, just superb, and the soundtrack is one of the best ever.
Ewan McGregor is almost at his best (and the man can sing!) and Nicole Kidman is... stunning! I've never seen her more beautiful.
No happy ending. 8.2/10

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This is one of those movies. Those Before the Sunrise's of the world. Brilliant. The best original soundtrack I've seen in a film, strong, yet simple performances, a good story...what more do you want? An happy ending. Not in this one though, this is a story about love, strong but (and?) unfulfilled love.
"What's the Czech for "Do you love him"?"
No happy ending. 8.5/10

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I guess life is not a movie. There's no "everything will be ok" and no "lived happily ever after". In the end, it's not who you love that matters, it's how. It's the attitude you take life with.

Happy endings only depend on where you choose to stop your story.

To make it public

The celebration of a birthday is something really special, in our modern society. I don't know why, and I don't care why. It is usually fun to celebrate, the fact that someone dear to us has completed one more year among the living,

There's always a party, and no matter how big or close it is, it is always special to have the people we most respect and hold dear, enjoying a special day because we live to tell today.

When invited it is usual to give presents, but it is not only an act of consumerism, it's a mark a souvenir to remember that we've reached another level in the life's ladder. Although one must admit that consumerism has a great part to play in this traditional behavior.

Yesterday, little lady deWinter was the baby of the day, been spoiled every rightful request, and caught up in surprise. It was really fun and good for the heart. But there's one sight problem that we faced this year and fear we will face in the next to come… Is that it's going to get harder and harder to top each year's surprise, so to you Lady we have a request:

Please lower your expectative for next year's celebration, because our creativity is running (sprinting) out.

Wishing all the best for all that celebrate, for whatever reason, life-

Lestat of Lioncourt

Peace vs violence, violence vs peace, who will win? maybe the beast

Lord Charles Fox: When people speak of great men, they think of men like Napoleon - men of violence. Rarely do they think of peaceful men. But contrast the reception they will receive when they return home from their battles. Napoleon will arrive in pomp and in power, a man who's achieved the very summit of earthly ambition. And yet his dreams will be haunted by the oppressions of war. William Wilberforce, however, will return to his family, lay his head on his pillow and remember: the slave trade is no more.

A story to tell the Grandkids

My grandchildren, once in a cold summer night like this one, in the year of 2009, after your Grandfather Lestat, Uncle Jack and a Funny dog – whose name I don't remember – finished their game of snooker and the usual patrol for the night, we went to a gas station to fill uncle jack's car, the one in that photograph over there.

Grandson nº1: Fill it with what?

Gasoline, in our time we didn't used all this solar energy mambojanbom, we had to use petrol to power our vehicles. It was very expensive, at the time, € 1,345 per liter; it wasn't free like it is today.

But let's move on shall we… Well… as we entered the gas station, there was a girl sitting on the porch, alone in the freezing wind, seeing such sight me and your uncle Jack discussed about the possibility of giving a lift to the poor girl.

Grandpa: Jack, should we offer the girl a ride?

Jack: I don't know Lestat; she doesn't seem to be heading our way…

Grandpa: It should not be a big detour; it shouldn't be further than Nations' Park, we should offer her a ride, it is the right thing to do.

Jack: ok, then you go and ask her if she wants' a lift.

And then your Grandpa full of courage walked the 20 meters from the car to the porch to ask the girl if she needed a lift…

Granddaughter nº1: Was it then that you met grandma?

No, my sweaty, her name was Thelma - the story of how me and grandma met happened long after this day, we should let grandma tell that one, Ok?

Granddaughter nº1: OK!!! But promise to tell us you too, ok grandpa?

Alright my dear,

Where was I? ... Oh I remember! Her name was Thelma, and after the introduction talk, she said that her white knight's, your grandpa's, name wasn't a good name… What do you think?

All granddaughters at the same time: No Grandpa you have a great name (hugs and more hugs)

So I thought so… well after a humiliating five minutes of talk around my name, we finally dropped, our hitchhiker in her neighborhood - a scary neighborhood, dark and no living soul on the street- right after we dropped her, uncle jack was so scared that he went speeding backwards, to get the hell out of there.

Do you want to know what grandpa learned that day?

Grandchildren: YES!

That your uncle Jack is a wussy! Ha ha ha!

Grand Parents stories don't need to have any real lesson, they're just a way to gather the family around for some time.

Lestat of Lioncourt

The other place we call home

There's little to say until we open the door opening a new world. We enter and sit down in our little booth, and the chattering starts with no end at sight.

A waitress aproachs asking the usual, and getting the same in return (three coffees, one with cream).

We practice some politics, we enbrace some crisses, loveless jokes and crushes are the best and the most comun; all is faced with laughter and tears.

There's no piano man, but there's a song everytime.

We go while the sun is still down, but we promisse to comeback everytime. Our Thanks to our second home, City bar

Lestat of Lioncourt

Getting Old

Their song

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...

I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do...

You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what I've been through like you do


All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...





"And he finally stopped playing their song, when he realized he was dancing alone"

I’ll tell you what you are…

I can tell you "you're wrong", but that doesn't make me right, you know this so well you take every of my regards, as you should do to does coming from a mad man; you nod say "It's alright….huh hum", than you ignore it and take another shoot at it.

We all live empirical lives, and all we know it's part of past experiences or things we read about in the news, it's not much…(the world is too big to fit only in one life time), but we keep breaking through, searching for new things, asking the same questions to get different answers, we do what we can.

People advice you for free, and so do you to others. There's nothing wrong with the giving, the great responsibility lies on the taker; no one is perfect – not even for a brief second - we all live with shit pilling around us… getting it together is no solution, give yourself a break every other time and for once forget where your swimming, I sure you'll be able to figure out a way to come back shining as new.

We're all young souls and love is nothing more than the education we receive and then pass it on to others. You love and are loved by family and friends, because whatever it happens no matter how much time it takes you will be able to always come back to them, and be welcomed like the prodigal son – the one who was lost and found his way.

You wish for passion has does every young soul such as yourself (me and deWinter included), don't rush it… in nature everything takes its time, and there's nothing more natural than passion; don't worry you'll get your chance to join tow unique diamonds, both flawless and both shiny as the strength of you're pumping heart

Priorities

You Promised Me!!

In our society,one thing that pops out is how often we promise things and how often we don't stick with it.. It's like it meaning has been changed into something else.
I don't know about you, but When i think of promises, i think of something that we swear to stand by, on our word. If we say we'll do it, we should definitely do it [that is also why we should only promise what we can keep].Otherwise, our word goes from meaningful to meaningless, just like that..

And when that happens,how can we expect people to trust us again? Or, why do people trust us again?
The sad truth about why people don't get really pissed when someone breaks their trust is because everyone know everyone has, at some point, broken that tie and deep, deep down we feel like we had no moral at all to judge others. But then,one of two thing happens.

1)You've always managed your knowledge based on certain values and you stick by them so blindly that you think breaking some promises is OK. In that case, you either get lucky and the person you screwed over understands you or you get no longer the trust-worthy label.

2)You don't like breaking your promises and when you do, by reasons that are just as pointless as any others, you feel really bad and tell the one you've hurt what you've done, expecting nothing but a clean conscious.

I get there is no being straight 0 or 1, but is the code you've creating step by step that defines who you are, and that my friend is totally up to YOU.

We all know there is no being perfect.


Anyway, all this thought was started when i watch "Nothing but the truth" [It's available online]. The movie is just unbelievable great and the history goes by just because a woman decides to keep a promise.




Staying by your beliefs just like she stood by hers is THE dream!

She's no longer perfect

“She lacks the indefinable charm of weakness.”

Prayers

Is prayer your steering wheel or your spare tire?

The most blood I've ever seen

I had just parked the car. Me and my mother were getting out as we saw a woman trying to get the attention of the neighbours. It seemed someone had just felt from a bike and crashed in the ground. At first I thought it was just an old man who had felt and was having trouble to get back up. He seemed fine... As I got closer I started to see blood, too much blood, and he was bleeding heavily from his head. Everyone just kept saying "Someone call an ambulance!" and no one did. I eventually did call an ambulance and had to wait like two minutes to talk to the emergency team. They asked me how old he was (who the fuck cares?) then they asked me if he had lost his consciense, to what I replied "no, he's fine, apart from the 2 litres of blood coming out of his head..."
They said they were coming.
There was a guy who just kept saying "ehh, that's some bad stuff you have there..." "ehhh, look at what you've done...". The old man kept bleeding. Just imagine him, two or three pools of blood and everyone staring at a safe distance of around three meters. It was about now that I tried to help him compress the wound and sit him down, but I couldn't.
Right about now, as well, I saw something that impressed me: the lady who owned the house near the place where he felt started to do something. I hear some noise and I see a garden hose coming out of a little hole in the wall... She was preparing to start cleaning the floor... And... well... the man kept bleeding...
I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.

Eventually the ambulance came and after like 30 minutes took the man to the hospital. Well, not before they do start cleaning, the owner of the house and two of the fireman... cleaning. Cleaning.


A few hours later, the old man was back at my grandfather's telling everything was allright and asking for the bike. I guess some people are just tuff...

Read this in a book and thought to be a great game to play this vacations

As it is written in the Dave Barry's "only Travel Guide You'll ever need"

"… Fun with Airport Security Personnel

Airport security personnel are chosen for their sense of humor, and there is nothing they enjoy so much as a good joke. A fun game you kids can play with them is "Uncle Ted." What you do is, when you get near a security checkpoint, you walk up to a passenger selected at random and say in laud voice, "Uncle Ted, can I see the bomb again?" Ha ha! Those wacky, fun-loving security personnel will sure come running! They might even take "Uncle Ted" for a ride in the electric cart! They might even take you for a ride in the electric cart if you mention the detonator in Mom's purse!"

Anarchy

´

Sometimes i feel like shooting somebody

2 small texts after Aquashow

Baby sitting
I decided to go to the water fun park with my younger siblings and some cousins, and HOOO BOYYY how stupid was I to do such a thing. It’s even worse than taking care of drunken girls, because the first hand not all of them are girls, none are drunk and, FUCK, they kick hard when they hit you.
But I designed a plan to make everything less kicky for me, everyone would stay together (less than 30 meters apart from anyone of the group), and it all went fine until it was lunch time. (I HATE lunch time) The girls didn’t want to eat because they have to keep in shape (5-13 years old girls have to be in shape for what? For god sakes), then the youngest of the boys (my godson) wanted his hot dog with ketchup, mayonnaise and mustard; instead of the mayonnaise, mustard and ketchup he had in his hand (BRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!). After 10 torturous minutes everyone had at least a bite to eat, and as soon I gave the order to disperse, you could forget the less than 30 meters limit, it was more like more than 50 meters apart and if needed clime the tree.
It took me a freaking, hell friezing of a time to join everyone back together to leave, leaving me with less than it is due to enjoy the freaking water slides… It was an experience never to repeat again.
P.S.: Here’s an episode to make you laugh for a while, in one of the morning rides I went with my god son to the foams, and the life guard ask for both our ages (7 and 19 I’ll let you decide which is whose), after acknowledging this he says “ You and your son can now proceed”, What the Fuck?

I hate huge buts and I cannot lie.
There’s a pandemic around, and it’s not the swine flu. After going to an aquatic park with my family, I’m faced and marveled at the beauty of the female and the extravagances to reach such standers. I’m like every other man who likes a pair of curved lines, but sometimes girls just take it too curvy for me. I appreciate the fact that some of the people from the female gender put themselves under the knife to upgrade, give greater detail, push up, push down, whatever… I really appreciate that (and so I think does the rest of the male gender that isn’t searching for a way to the poo go backwards), but please don’t take it too far – and by taking too far I mean you could crush a small boy’s scull if you’re not careful turning right.

Both by

Lestat of Lioncourt ( the fucked up one)

High Hopes

I had high hopes to myself. Maybe too high...

Life is a burden 2

"I wrote the first post of this infamous blog (and I say infamous with all the care in the world), and it was about the burden that it is to live…

Today I've decided to revisit that founding post and make some adjustments, but please don't go without reading the original. Thank you"

One Year ago, life was a burden and a hard one to have if you ask me, although it still is such a hard game to play, I think it is a sweet now that life has blossomed around me.

I still don't know the Whys or the purpose to keep on living, in fact I don't know nor more nor less than I did one year ago, I just don't blame the philosophers or poets, because I have friends that tell me things don't matter that much…

Pain? Is just an introduction to joy, as joy then gives away to a sad smile and pain again. The world turns, and so does life itself, we're not static, if we were there would be no point to living. So we move, from door to door, home to school, from a tackle to a try, we move; without knowledge of a point what so ever, we just look for it now instead of lying in bed waiting for it to fall on our laps.

Death? We welcome it in our on time, there's no point on hasting the inventible, we want to leave a mark as before, and hopeful it will last for the centuries to come. If that doesn't happen, not to worry, life will certainly bring joy enough to make it fill like centuries past and immortality is a second hand present.

In one year… this was what I've learnt.

That crushes are wonderful until the name is put to a test; Friends are the world's best thing if no jealousy is between them; School still sucks but it's hard to go on without it; Business is Business, and it makes better business if friends give you a hand.

And the Last thing I want to leave out to you, in this "thing" is…

There's no point in complaining if no one is there to hear, no one will hear an all complaining man, so don't complain and enjoy what you have because that's the testimony people like to see, hear, and read about.

Life's burden announcer;

Lestat of Lioncourt

The love letter

Although you may think this one more post about one more boring without end freaking crushes, I'm sorry to disappoint you but it is not…

Upon my random reading of the blogs I follow I've came to face this post.

And I thought "Lovely, now I can write a post about this, get Jack to applaud me, joke with deWinter, and end the night having a blast of a laugh"

But I'm not doing such a thing because has I've learn from my friends that can be hurtful and misinterpreted. So I'm not going to do that, and instead I'll just leave you with another blog's post for your enjoy.

At the end just remember "I can't pretend to be much of a judge of poetry. I'm an English teacher, not a homosexual."

Lestat of Lioncourt

Californication

Hank: If you got one month left, what you do, how do you spend it?

Karen: With Becca.
Hank: No Hank in there? I don't fit in... anywhere in there... no Hank?
Karen: Maybe a couple of days...
Hank: Fair enough. But for me, I want you there at the end. I want those eyes to be the last thing that I see.

When life get's tough, we say we don't give a crap

I wished I could do this to most of the problems I have, Wouldn't you?

Lestat of Lioncourt

When you're old

You will look back on the times you laughed and you will cry
You will look back on the times you cried, and you will laugh

It's just a matter of how you want to spend your last days...

The problem with friends

Having friends, means you'll be there for them and they'll be there for you for when it is most needed. Helping each other when there's an adversity at hand, that's what I mean.

Now… I've found something rather amusing in my little circle of friends, When we try to help someone with some problem. Seen from an outsider it seems your zapping through several TV-Series.

I'll explain…

Every time someone of our group comes to us with a problem, we all do the same – and by "we" I mean every one (I, Jack, DeWinter, Ginger, Giselle, Indigno, Olivia, etc…). We take several steps in the solving of these problems.

Stage 1

The first, is like in every criminal movie, we expose the problem on the full, so that everyone knows (in the restricted group of those trusted to participate in this conversation/intervention), who, what, why, when, where and how.

We only solve something in this stage if there's confusion with the 4w&h, someone mixed the names or the timeline is upside down, or something else of the sort, you get it…

Being most of the times, bigger problems than that, we move to stage two, where we move to CSI series…

Stage 2

We take it to the specific details, autopsy, ballistic, GSR, things like that. Just to check if there's any small print we might be overlooking.

We then quit CSI and follow Without a trace.

Stage 3

We like in the series, build a time line to see if there were signs of an eventual problem, and we sometimes go over our head and back down to the day of birth, just because…

No problems are solved here but it is a very important stage never the less.

Stage 4

Then we change to Numb3rs, not in the sense that we start using math, which we sometimes do, but in this stage we just theorize, and we talk for hours making theories to the why, and no one comes up with any kind of solution, it's just pure, fair, educative discussion without real results.

And to make it all okay we move to …

Stage 5

Where we have several ways to take

1. We stop caring because it is a problem without solution, and there's no such things so the solution must be time, like in Dr. Phill's Show
   
2. Someone says something totally out of hand, and someone other makes an wonderful connection with the problem and finds the solution we needed, like in House M. D.
   
3. Someone was really listening to everything and after some time of gloating, he reveal the perfect solution to everything, like in Psych.
   

And That's how we do it, it's not perfect, it almost never leaves us greatly satisfied, but what matters is us been there, the how or why is secondary…

Fast Girls walk slow on side streets...

Evil is a point of view. God kills indiscriminately and so shall we. For no creatures under God are as we are, none so like him as ourselves.

Radiohead - Creep

When you were here before,
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel,
Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fuckin' special

But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts,
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul

I want you to notice
when I'm not around
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here, ohhhh, ohhhh

She's running out again
She's running out
She run run run run...
run... run...

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here

I don't belong here...

Fork in the road

"One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree. Which road do I take? she asked. Where do you want to go? was his response. I don't know, Alice answered. Then, said the cat, it doesn't matter."