Have you ever caught yourself grinding your teeth? It's usually related to stress. I have been grinding my teeth non-stop all day. Bruxism usually occurs at night, sub-consciously, but mine is pretty constant. I have been trying to stay diligent, and focus on not grinding, but every time my thoughts starts to drift into my worries, I realize I'm doing it again. It is leading to jaw pain, and I have had a dull, constant headache all day. It interrupts my train of thought, I can't focus properly on anything properly, I can't write, especially. I know my composition here is not up to my usual standard, and this is just your standard blog post. Very frustrating, indeed. I am getting a night guard made, but I won't have it for a while, and that only helps at night. What I need to do is to learn how to better handle my stress, and to eliminate some of it. I'm hoping this coming weekend in Niagara Falls helps, and I know it will be easier once the impending relocation is finished. I'm going to give this newfangled thing called meditation a shot, my sister keeps inviting me, and I'm going to take her up on it, soon.
Anyways, off to a night of fitful grinding.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Breakfast v2
I wrote this a couple ays back, the title is above, and has specific meaning. I don't think it's finished, there are a couple of line which I feel are...inelegant, at best. We will see what you think of them.
Edit: I have made some changes, some based on suggestion, some based on my own feelings, please revisit!
A voice like honey drips
From lungs like steel
A fusion of machine and man,
The consummation of the plan.
The grip of God upon my throat,
The chorus of the Word expand!
The truth of love, the spirit here,
The end of death, of greed, of fear.
When the dawn march up the day,
And when the fast is broken, near
The bridge of mourning, sighs and all;
No memories of death, of fall.
Remember then, the words of us
The songs we sang; and all
The melodies of love gone past,
The notes and tones not made to last!
Those in smaller numbers must
Sing out that much more loudly!
The voices of the crowd are lost,
No matter one, no matter cost.
Beware of them that shine so bright
So falsely in the day,
For when a sparkle moonlight brings
The chorus of the angels sings!
The songs of untrained hearts,
The pleas of broken men,
The crying of a dying child,
The ending of the world gone wild.
Edit: I have made some changes, some based on suggestion, some based on my own feelings, please revisit!
A voice like honey drips
From lungs like steel
A fusion of machine and man,
The consummation of the plan.
The grip of God upon my throat,
The chorus of the Word expand!
The truth of love, the spirit here,
The end of death, of greed, of fear.
When the dawn march up the day,
And when the fast is broken, near
The bridge of mourning, sighs and all;
No memories of death, of fall.
Remember then, the words of us
The songs we sang; and all
The melodies of love gone past,
The notes and tones not made to last!
Those in smaller numbers must
Sing out that much more loudly!
The voices of the crowd are lost,
No matter one, no matter cost.
Beware of them that shine so bright
So falsely in the day,
For when a sparkle moonlight brings
The chorus of the angels sings!
The songs of untrained hearts,
The pleas of broken men,
The crying of a dying child,
The ending of the world gone wild.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Harboured Starboard
And you shall know them by the colour of their eyes.
On the dawn of the new day shall come the three. They will bring with them the great suffering which will be the first step down the path to great prosperity. One cannot achieve greatness without trials, and the three will bring those, true. You will surely know them by the colour of their eyes, for they will be like no other. Not blue, like the sea your boats set upon for fish, nor green like the fields where your shepherds tend their flocks. Their eyes will be the colour of death, of hate and greed and fear. They will reflect the sadness of their task, and strike terrible fear into the hearts of your people, but you must not falter.
When they come they shall be living death. They will not appear long for this world, but the storms they bring will rage for three lifetimes. You will not live to see your people escape the suffering and reach the golden days that lie ahead.
In the first lifetime, yours, you will see the beginning. You will see the entrance of the three, you will see the death that is their gaze, and you must welcome it. You must invite them into your home, and grant them any accord they wish. See to their needs as though they were your own, and see to their wants as if each day were their last. If they call, answer, if they command, obey. Your humility will bring great suffering to your people, suffering beyond any you can currently imagine, but your humility will also begin a journey, a trip down the fiery paths of hell, to emerge in the land of milk and honey. Though you can see the light from here, your people will not. You will be hated, despised, by all. Though you are respected and admired now, this will change. Your past kindnesses will be forgotten, and all will remember the suffering you have brought them. You will be remembered as a villain. In the first lifetime, yours, you will see the death of the three.
In the second lifetime, your son's, you will see the beginning of the end. By the time your son is born, you will hate them. Your son will be born hobbled, and his life shall be a struggle. You must watch his growth with humility, and put the needs of the three above his, above all, as you have done. As your people despise you, so will your son. On your deathbed, he will denounce you as his father, and he will relish in the heartbreak on your face. The three will die before you, and their deaths will be terrible. At this point you will believe that all you have seen will be all that could be horrible in the world. Their deaths will convince you otherwise. You will not live to see the peak of the suffering, but rest assured, your people shall go though torments the like of which none have the capacity to imagine. In the second lifetime, your son's, you will see nothing, compared to what you do not see.
In the third lifetime, your granddaughter's, your people will see hope. She shall be a beacon unto them, and she will have your eyes. Your people will praise her beauty, but will speak of what a pity it is that she has the eyes of a villain. She will, on your son's instruction, take her mother's name, so that history will remember her as different than you, for you are the bringer of death, of desperation, and she is the bringer of hope. Under her rule, your people will begin to prosper. The suffering will begin to cease, and she will be admired like none before her, for she will be their guiding light. History will remember her above all, your hobbled son shall be mostly forgotten, and you shall be purposefully and vigorously cast from the collective memory, in an effort to purge the devastation which you brought. The three, however, will always be remembered. In the third lifetime, your granddaughter's, your people will be freed of your memory.
The birth of your granddaughter's daughter shall signal the beginning of the golden age Where few shall suffer, and those that do will have solace and refuge in the arms of the community. She will be born with the beauty of her mother, but the eyes of her father. The people will view her as the pinnacle of artistry, and she will resemble nothing of you. If your people loved your granddaughter, then there is no word for the affection they will feel to her daughter. All will be well with your people. In her lifetime, there shall be no famine, no war, no pestilence, and no mention of you.
This is your sacrifice. This is what must be done to ensure not just the prosperity of your people, but their very survival. If you choose not to make this sacrifice, your people will not suffer, but they will not prosper. They will languish, they will feel no passion, and by the end of three lifetimes, your people will be but a memory, your citizens dispersed, your lands divided. These are the challenges you face! Will you bring your people to the trough of suffering, or will you let them go? You know the choice you will make, as I do. You will make the sacrifice, you will endure the suffering, and you will be forgotten. You are great, indeed! But you will never, ever, be viewed as a saviour.
And they will never remember the colour of your eyes.
On the dawn of the new day shall come the three. They will bring with them the great suffering which will be the first step down the path to great prosperity. One cannot achieve greatness without trials, and the three will bring those, true. You will surely know them by the colour of their eyes, for they will be like no other. Not blue, like the sea your boats set upon for fish, nor green like the fields where your shepherds tend their flocks. Their eyes will be the colour of death, of hate and greed and fear. They will reflect the sadness of their task, and strike terrible fear into the hearts of your people, but you must not falter.
When they come they shall be living death. They will not appear long for this world, but the storms they bring will rage for three lifetimes. You will not live to see your people escape the suffering and reach the golden days that lie ahead.
In the first lifetime, yours, you will see the beginning. You will see the entrance of the three, you will see the death that is their gaze, and you must welcome it. You must invite them into your home, and grant them any accord they wish. See to their needs as though they were your own, and see to their wants as if each day were their last. If they call, answer, if they command, obey. Your humility will bring great suffering to your people, suffering beyond any you can currently imagine, but your humility will also begin a journey, a trip down the fiery paths of hell, to emerge in the land of milk and honey. Though you can see the light from here, your people will not. You will be hated, despised, by all. Though you are respected and admired now, this will change. Your past kindnesses will be forgotten, and all will remember the suffering you have brought them. You will be remembered as a villain. In the first lifetime, yours, you will see the death of the three.
In the second lifetime, your son's, you will see the beginning of the end. By the time your son is born, you will hate them. Your son will be born hobbled, and his life shall be a struggle. You must watch his growth with humility, and put the needs of the three above his, above all, as you have done. As your people despise you, so will your son. On your deathbed, he will denounce you as his father, and he will relish in the heartbreak on your face. The three will die before you, and their deaths will be terrible. At this point you will believe that all you have seen will be all that could be horrible in the world. Their deaths will convince you otherwise. You will not live to see the peak of the suffering, but rest assured, your people shall go though torments the like of which none have the capacity to imagine. In the second lifetime, your son's, you will see nothing, compared to what you do not see.
In the third lifetime, your granddaughter's, your people will see hope. She shall be a beacon unto them, and she will have your eyes. Your people will praise her beauty, but will speak of what a pity it is that she has the eyes of a villain. She will, on your son's instruction, take her mother's name, so that history will remember her as different than you, for you are the bringer of death, of desperation, and she is the bringer of hope. Under her rule, your people will begin to prosper. The suffering will begin to cease, and she will be admired like none before her, for she will be their guiding light. History will remember her above all, your hobbled son shall be mostly forgotten, and you shall be purposefully and vigorously cast from the collective memory, in an effort to purge the devastation which you brought. The three, however, will always be remembered. In the third lifetime, your granddaughter's, your people will be freed of your memory.
The birth of your granddaughter's daughter shall signal the beginning of the golden age Where few shall suffer, and those that do will have solace and refuge in the arms of the community. She will be born with the beauty of her mother, but the eyes of her father. The people will view her as the pinnacle of artistry, and she will resemble nothing of you. If your people loved your granddaughter, then there is no word for the affection they will feel to her daughter. All will be well with your people. In her lifetime, there shall be no famine, no war, no pestilence, and no mention of you.
This is your sacrifice. This is what must be done to ensure not just the prosperity of your people, but their very survival. If you choose not to make this sacrifice, your people will not suffer, but they will not prosper. They will languish, they will feel no passion, and by the end of three lifetimes, your people will be but a memory, your citizens dispersed, your lands divided. These are the challenges you face! Will you bring your people to the trough of suffering, or will you let them go? You know the choice you will make, as I do. You will make the sacrifice, you will endure the suffering, and you will be forgotten. You are great, indeed! But you will never, ever, be viewed as a saviour.
And they will never remember the colour of your eyes.
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