Armour

Return! Return! The voices chant, and I respond. I have had a rather busy time lately. There's just so much happening, I don't even know where to start! I suppose if I posted more frequently, as things happened, then I wouldn't have this problem. It makes posts more daunting to make, but that much more rewarding.
So we went to Niagara falls, had a good time, came home earlier than expected because my Uncle Dave died, and it was snowing in Niagara Falls, both of which significantly reduce the enjoyment factor. We came home on a Monday to find we'd been locked out of the building! It was such an exciting thing to find out that our landlord is so childish that he has to resort to breaking the law because we won't kowtow to his will. In truth it was not exciting, it was rather infuriating, and made Monday and Tuesday incredibly stressful. I can't wait until we no longer have to rent, and we can own our own house and not have to deal with landlords anymore. For now we have at least another year of renting, though, so we must make the most out of it.
The good that came out of the situation though, was that the stress of this situation finally made Mal realize why we need to move. Because it's not like this is the first thing we've had to deal with, and this place costs too much money to cause this much stress. Also, it made her realize that we don't need a fancy condo to be happy. We applied to lease the house on Carissa, which is nice because it's about 35% cheaper, much bigger, has an attached garage and a yard with a deck, so we can finally use our awesome barbecue. We should hear a yes or no this week from Don, and then we can get in gear and get moved! How truly thrilling!
I feel as though the writing quality of this post is very staggered and unnatural, and I keep getting distracted. I am going to try and get some writing done later today, and I will try and get it posted.

Thanks for listening.

Bruxism

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.

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.

I wrote something!

Tell me what you think. Tell me how it makes you feel!

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.

Foggy

I sit in a fog that is entirely my own. Unknown to the world and unknown to me, this fog is the truth and it will not set me free. I am a wanderer, true, and I wander to and fro, but finding no path can only last for so long.
Physical illness and malaise develops into mental illness and malaise, the sicker I feel the sadder I am, and there's no answer except to wait patiently for the seas to swell, then calm, then recede into the darkness.
I am not haunting, I am not mysterious, I am simple and easily defeated. My victories are small, and meaningless in the grand scheme of things. I feel stifled and uncreative, and I know what you are going to say. This is why I don't talk about it, because I always know what you are going to say, and it never helps, because I know you're right. But being right isn't enough. Sometimes you have to be wrong. I don't know what it means, I don't know what I mean, I just know it means something, because it means something to me.
Listen to me whine! I prattle on about my nature, when I can never understand it, no one can understand anything. All is illusion, right? There is no reality, only perception, and perception will be different for each person.Even science, the practice of facts, can never truly be proven. If human knowledge ever expands to the point that we can understand the universe, then we will no longer be able to be classified as humans. There's a paradox I can sink my teeth into. Humans will never understand the universe because when they do, they will cease to be human.
A couple years ago, a girl stole (not actually stole, we swapped books, I sent hers back, she didn't send mine, so yeah, stole) my copy of There are two errors in the the title of this book. I miss it every day. It's a great book. The title itself is a paradox. And besides,who shaves the barber?

Kraka-Boom!

Lo, did the wanderer burst forth, breaking all bonds of nature and civilization.
He came unto a land, and he called it his land, and there, did he establish a desk. More desks were planned, soon, a desk empire would surely stand. But all must start with one, and this was good.
The desk became a foundation for two computers, and lo, they were good computers. Well, one was good. Shh.
Soon after, the INTERNET came. In a torrential downpour did the gigabit link spread forth and connect one mighty machine to the effervescent glow of the information river.
Slightly after this, another link was made, to the lesser peecee, and this was good. This was called wireless, named so after the lack of wires connecting it to the all-river.
Throughout this, Much GRID was had, on the beastly peecee, and, though troubling at first, it became easier, as skills developed, and became like unto a second life to the wanderer.
But he was a wanderer no longer.
And though it was far from finished, they enjoyed this land, and they called this land:
The Office.

Not the tv show. An actual office. A room, for officiating.

Back from the dead! Here to eat the skin of the dead! I return to your land and I bring with me t3h h4xx0rzzz!