Death's Haze

What do you say to someone that has seen Death?

Death puts a blackness...no a grayness over everything.  Or, maybe, Picasso had it right and Death puts a blue haze over everything?

Death.  Death....death.....
Hmm.  Who's to say it's a bad thing?  You don't know shit about Death, in reality.  Neither do I.

We all have our beliefs, I mine, you yours, them theirs.  If a little girl dies and she isn't a Christian, does she go to Hell, or Paradise?  If I die am I reborn or do I go to Heaven?  I have my opinion.  What matters though are the ones left behind, what they think.  They need that comfort. 

When you see something tragic, it changes your perspective.

Normally, perspective changes are gradual, things that worm their way in.

Tragedy is like a damn nail gun.

The shift in perspective doesn't have to be large, it doesn't have to be small.  All that matters it that you recognize when their is a loss in the world, when we have been forbidden the gift of a life.  That is tragedy.  That feeling.

Hmm?


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Editing Note on December 2nd, 2011: This is one of my favorite posts to date.

To Start Writing - How & Why

I'm staring at this blank box, used for writing.  It stares back at me like the endless pages of blankness that have existed in every writer's past.

I want to write.  I need to write.  I can't write.  I am writing.  Sustenance?  Is it in this though?

I don't know.

Writer's block is a joke, to me. 

Speaking to Girls

I'm a pretty loud person.  I have a big...huge personality.  I am friendly, I can be very rude.  I tend to laugh and smile excessively.  I am a pretty "go-with-the-flow" kind of guy.  I don't really care about to many things as far as interactions between me and others.  However, the things that I do care about, mean a lot to me.  One of those things is commitment to your word.  Especially with girls.

Guy meets girl.  Girl likes guy.  Guy gets number.  Guy and girl chat.  Guy makes plan with girl for two days in advance, or w/e.  Girl says yes.  Guy texts girl two days later.  Girl is noncommittal now.  Girl is unsure if she is going out.  Guy is frustrated. Guy keeps plans. Girl makes other plans. Guy finds out to late.

This. Pisses. Me. Off.  That is why I make plans that can either involve or not involve said girl.  I plan to have fun every time I go out.  It's up to them if they want to join in on that fun.  shrug If they don't... So be it.  I meet plenty of new people every time I go out.

I love my life.  Seriously.  I was blessed.  (Here goes my arrogance rant.)  I was blessed with decently handsome features.  I have worked my ass off (figuratively and literally).  I am in shape, fit.  I was blessed with not being shy.  I am a good talker.  I laugh and smile incessantly.  I love eye contact.  In essence, I was gifted and attained a persona which allows me to meet nearly anyone, talk about nearly anything and I love myself.  You may think I'm conceited and narcissistic, and you're probably right.  I ask you though: What is so wrong with love yourself?  If I don't love myself, why should anyone else?  If I don't love spending time with myself, why should anyone else want to?  At the end of the night, (a la Frank Sinatra from Robin and the 7 Hoods) I've always got myself to hang out with.

Back to School, Back to School...

Yes, ahhh.... Back to school.

Sorry for the long absence people.  Life was stupid, hectic, crazy, and boring.

I've only been here three days and the nights are running together already.  Today, while walking to downtown, I had to ask the girl I'd just met what day it was.  She smiled and asked me what I'd been up to.  "Yeah, about that."

I've thoroughly enjoyed myself this week.  So many more girl here, it's glorious.  I'm not quite sure that I want a girlfriend.  In fact, I'm pretty sure.  No reason to not tempt fate though, right?

Oh, how I need to start studying my Arabic again.....and fill out my application to Scotland.  Blah... I can't get my mind right for that.  I need to get a 4.0 this year.  

Ahh, the wishes, wants and desires of a new beginning.