U of L

The hardest University to ever attend, there are no application forms, there are no entrance exam’s apart from getting out of the birth canal in one piece. The moment we take our first breath we are admitted into the University of Life from which we only graduate upon our death’s.

Life long learning, training, exams and tests, multiple choices are the name of the game with no clear guidebooks. We are given a few tools here and there but it is up to us how we learn, whether we study, accept the lessons and grow. If we fail we get to redo the test, often over and over until we have finally understood the material at hand.

On the day of our birth the first chapter is opened, closing with a traumatic or life changing event, then moving on to the second. There are no time limits to these chapters, they progress at our speed no matter what we think or feel, we govern the speed at which we learn. Each person is different as to how many chapters they will have in their lifetimes, some have many, some have only a few. It is up to the person.

The pattern of a chapter?

Our first chapters all start the same, with birth, the only difference is the how, complications, etc.

Towards the end of a chapter we start to face a change, a big decision, a challenge or a trauma. What ever it is, it unsettles us and forces us to step out of our normal existence and to “deal” with something.

Once the “dealing” has taken place, the decision made, the trauma healing, the change accepted, we come to a point where there is a calm within us. Sometimes this happens right after the “change”, sometimes a little while after. The chapter only closes once we have come through the “other side”.

Perhaps you are nodding, seeing all the chapters that went before this moment. Perhaps you are sighing, saying to yourself “ok this one needs an institution”.

I find understanding the process and the patterns in life calming, knowing that a chapter is at its climax and about to end settling. I knuckle down and focus on learning the lessons, on surviving and getting through it. I keep faith in that process and the fact that there is a reason behind it all. Keeping the faith and believing can be a constant battle of heart and mind, soul and spirit, some days are easier to get through, some days not so easy.

In my 24 years I have experienced many life chapters, some with harder more excruciating lessons than the others. Each lesson taught me an essential skill to enable me to go through the next, each helped me to grow and to be who I am today. My lessons were no less and no more than yours, they are just different.

There is no quantifying criteria nor badges awarded for the chapters we go through… just growth. Friends, family, passions, hobbies and sheer willpower will get you through each and every single one of them

Ultimately… you determine the speed at which you learn, you determine the success of each chapter and finally it’s up to you what you do with each that passes.

Go with the flow, if the shit is hitting the fan it means a new chapter is dawning and sunshine is on its way!

Farewell

Never easy no matter what the circumstances surrounding them or how crazy the situation is.

Tonight I said goodbye to a friend that has known me forever, she knows me backwards, each and every expression on my face, the different tones in my voice and my fake laugh. This friend of mine has also known my situation the longest, she knew way back when how things were, how the people in my life were and the antics they got up to. She knows my heartaches, my heartbreaks, my story and my bad habits. Six years of a bond closer than blood.

All along she has wanted to help me but unable, she has had her own horrors, her own heartbreaks and torments. This year I have held her as she has cried and she I, together it has been rivers.

Tonight was different to how it was when we said bye to each other last year. It was different because of the year and the knowledge within our hearts. Her words “I am not sad, I am so glad and relieved that you are getting out of that situation, that you are going to a better place and that you can put it all behind you. I am so sad you are going but glad”

Although my heart aches with the knowledge that I won’t be seeing her for a very long time (if all goes to plan) I know she and I will be eternal no matter what comes our way, what life throws at us. Our friendship is thicker than blood.

Saying bye to those you love is never easy, for me it is never goodbye, always just bye. Till we meet again.

No Mockery Too Fine

If someone composed an insulting ditty about me, I doubt that I would want to sing it. Here in the US, however, that is not the case. Even before the US rebellion against the Crown British troops sang a song that mocked the rough and ready colonists. The song is Yankee Doodle, sung with pride by modern day Americans, and the state anthem of Connecticut:

Yankee Doodle went to town
Upon a little pony
He stuck a feather in his hat
And called it Macaroni

For those who wonder about the apparent pasta reference; Macaroni was a name given to English gentlemen who were foppish and over concerned with dressing smartly. The implication is that the ignorant colonist thought that putting a feather in his cap was enough to make him a smartly attired gentleman.

Remember Well

Simple right? I don’t quite know about the simple part in that whole remembering what you learnt process.

That’s one of the things I’ve worked so hard at not doing that all of a sudden I am doing ALL the time again. All sentences either start with “sorry” or end with one, period. It’s like a new slang that is so old for me its tiring.

I am smoking, albeit its the secret, have done for 3 weeks now and all during the time that I was keeping everyone from themselves, or eachother. It is no excuse, I felt the stress, I bought the smokes, bought another box and then another. Stupid really but there you go, no turning back just quitting. The guilt though for not telling those I love hurts more than I can put into words because I feel like I’ve let everyone done. Another reason perhaps for “sorry” to everything.

I find myself on edge and losing self belief, self confidence… the old “what if’s” have returned and it’s driving even me nuts. What if they don’t like me? What if I don’t fit in? What if I can’t be my witty self anymore?

What if this is all a dream and I wake up once again tomorrow only to find my heart broken for a fourth time? Each time I heard the news broke a new chunk of my heart off. Sure I act all strong but it did break me.

Truth is I know I will be fine, I know that I am strong, that I can handle any kind of situation, that I can do anything. It’s not ego its experience from being here so many times before but for some reason I temporarily lost all that I had learnt over the year past.

So if I seem a bit odd, or if I say sorry, act freaked out or worried or just plain nuts know that its just fear and the fact that I am freaking out just a little… kind of like a speed wobble, like jello on a dashboard… yips that’s me in moments.

None of it is helped by the fact that my loved ones are being overly protective all of a sudden, wanting to take control of my process.

I know what I have to do and I know the days are flying and I will be there very soon indeed, in the mean time I just ask that you cross your fingers and your toes for me…

In Pursuit Of Freedom

Me for 24 years minus a few here and there, freedom within my soul and freedom within the worlds I found myself. Freedom. Something so many in this world have no concept of because they have never experienced it, something that people the world over crave, need, hope for. Freedom.

For as long as I can remember Freedom was the one thing I sought for and yet it was continually evasive as if it were an aura of mist on the horizon. I stopped looking for it on that horizon a long time ago, losing hope of ever holding it within my hands, feeling it or tasting it. It evaded me continually and as you chase those dreams of freedom you tire, you grow weary and slowly stop reaching for it on the horizon. Instead to save emotional resources you look within, you feel the freedom within your being.

As you close your eyes Freedom is there before you, close enough to touch, you can smell it, taste it on your tongue, it is with you. Freedom like a vision, a fantasy of all that can be, a fairytale within your heart that you hold onto until the horizon comes closer.

My vision started when I was a child, being tortured with tribulations from which the scars I still carry both in my soul and on my body. To stop the tears from running down my cheeks I shut my eyes really really tight, so tight they hurt but made colours appear on my eyelids. Those colours turned into a fairy tale of peace, happiness and safety.

As I looked into the colours calm would flow through my body and I would leave it. Stepping through like Alice in Wonderland I entered the most beautiful place that had butterflies kissing my nose, daisies everywhere I looked, tall trees with cute birds twittering, the sound of the ocean and ice-cream. Ah that ice-cream was the best ever! It never melted on my clothes and no adults could see me eating it. As my body was being hurt my mind was safe, I didn’t hear what the adults said to me, I didn’t feel what they did, no adults could hurt me in my wonderland.

That wonderland was my freedom. When I was scared, I was hurt or being hurt I would close my eyes and go back there. My freedom, one that I still visit often. I never knew the difference, to me that freedom was always real and what it was all about. Freedom, real freedom, I could never imagine, I never truly knew what it would mean to be free.

Not until now.

Now I know what true real life freedom is and hold both my internal and external freedoms within my arms. I’ve tasted the horizon, seen the truth that lies there and know that no matter what, in order to be free, you have to look first within yourself in order to recognise the physical one. You will never know or experience true freedom in life until you experience it within your soul.

It lies within each of us, right there inside you, inside me and inside life.

No matter what we face in this life that freedom is always within us, right there waiting for you to close your eyes and feel it. It’s the secret to life, it is what gets the kids in Africa through cold mornings in tin shacks, it’s what gets terror victims through the horrors that replay before their eyes, it’s what gets adults through the roughest times.

To Those Who May Forget

Do you remember as kids we were always staring into shiny surfaces, mirrors, water puddles and looking at our reflections and absorbing what we looked like? I remember staring at each part of me in wonder, fascinated at the fact that this was who I was, this was me, Beki.

I didn’t think anything special about the image staring back at me other than the fact that it was me, that I was unique and no one in the whole wide world looked exactly like me. I liked the idea that we were all unique, different and special.

Then I started to realise that something was wrong with my nose. People in my family kept on saying how funny it looked and how if it was bigger they could hold the world Olympics skiing contest on it because of the slope. I started to understand that the reflection staring back at me wasn’t in fact special or different but perhaps deformed like everyone else said.

As the years passed I started avoiding my reflection, I couldn’t stand any photos to be taken of me or even to look in a mirror. I avoided all shiny services because each time I saw my reflection it reminded me that I wasn’t special, that I was weird looking and odd.

In the end I started to believe that my outer look was my inner look. I was deformed, weird and far from special as a whole, my self esteem was gone, my self confidence had evaporated and the negative thought biases started in full force. It became a way of life, a personality trait if you will, to believe, truly believe that I was sub-human.

Bulimia, eating disorders, dependency, self beatings both verbal and physical, acceptance of behaviour towards me that others would not accept. I shrugged it all off, why wouldn’t I? This had always been my life, it was who I was, I knew no different.

Fast forward a couple of years and suddenly I have genuine people who love me, they see the reflection that I saw when I was six and they are ok with it, no comments on my funny nose, how weird I look or any other bad attributes. These people seemed to take me for me but I couldn’t translate it. It blew me away, confused me like nothing else, I questioned each time they said something nice to me, showed me love and acceptance, I couldn’t understand it.

Each time this happened I would go away thinking “ok they are just saying it to be nice to me, don’t take it too seriously, they’ll be normal again sooner than I think, it’s nothing, brush it under the table and normality will return”. Normality never did return and what was once perceived as normality slowly transformed into abnormality.

One step at a time, time and time again, I was shown that it was not me that was deformed, weird or odd but rather the people that said those things to me, broke me down and stepped on me. One day shortly after this realisation I built up the courage to face a mirror, truly face it and look at my reflection. I couldn’t hold eye contact with myself but I slowly started to examine my facial features, I looked at the angles, nose, everything, absorbing it all. I lasted 2 minutes and I had to leave my reflection there in the mirror.

Day by day I went back to the reflection staring back at me and slowly I braved staring into my eyes, holding eye contact and absorbing the whole. I became the 5 year old kid again looking fascinatedly at my reflection. After about half an hour I looked myself deep in the eyes, smiled and said out loud “This is me, this is who I am, I am unique and I am special”. I hadn’t realized so intent on staring into my own eyes that tears were running slowly down my cheeks, this time they were tears of joy.

I still stare at my own reflection in the mirror, I absorb each single piece of the map that is me and I smile, I repeat those words as much as I need to hear them, I don’t avoid the shiny surfaces.

I am me, this is who I am, I am unique and I am special… if you don’t like it that is your problem, it’s not mine anymore.

What do you see when you look in to the mirror, do you see the whole you? Or do you see just the face as if its detached?

Schöne Dame schwer ist das herz, He said

And he couldn't be any more accurate . . . Todays post most of you won't be able to read, and those who can will laugh at my typically eloquent self in my sad approach to bring back some of my youth while not having to worry what I say. And here my attempt goes:

Heute fühle ich mich völlig gebrochen und zerrissen. Ich kann nicht mehr zu hören, Seine Weiche beruhigende Stimme, ich vermisse ihn so sehr den Schmerz ist der Tod zu mir. Ich habe gestrippt nackten ein Telefongespräch zeigt, dass er glaubt, ich habe ihn verraten. Das schmerzt mich kein Ende, denn er war meine Liebe und mein alles nur, wenn er treu bleiben seine Worte zu schätzen und alles, was ich bereit war, aufgeben, um für ihn in Ordnung zu sein.

Die Zeit wird alle Wunden heilen Leute halten mich zu sagen, aber was ist, wenn ich nicht wirklich wollen, dass sie zu heilen, wenn ich den Wunsch nichts mehr zu werden in der gleichen Misere hatte ich fühlte. Sicher werden können, Unwissenheit kann es Verzweiflung zu spüren etwas anderes als dieses unversöhnlich Traurigkeit hält das der unteren meiner Bauch. Ich kann mir nicht helfen, aber frage mich, ob er wirklich liebt ihre Ich glaube, das ist was verletzen mich am meisten.

Es fühlt sich an wie diese ist ein schlechter Traum ging furchtbar schief. Letzte Nacht der Mann, der nicht ihm hat mir gesagt, war ich lächelnd in meinen Träumen. Ich habe nicht die Herzen zu ihm sagen, ich war zu träumen meiner verlorenen Geliebten. Ich habe nicht die Herzen zu ihm sagen, egal, wie süß er war ich bin einfach nicht bereit, loszulassen. Ich bin mehr gefühl jetzt als hoffnungslos Ich kann immer darauf zu erinnern. Kann jemand bitte rette mich?

No Shame In This

So, we've gotten into the topic of rebounding. My perception on rebounding is a relationship that starts up very quickly after another relationship has ended. Rebounds are rarely based on love but are a way of alleviating the loneliness people feel when a relationship ends.

The are used for the security - The feeling of being in love and more than anything else they want to feel that security again. They convince themselves that they are in love when they are actually missing the safety and comfort of the relationship they left behind.

If an old relationship keeps interfering with the progress of a new relationship it means that the relationship is a rebound. When somebody is on the rebound they are not entirely over their previous relationship. They may still be trying to work out unresolved issues from that relationship.

Now I won't deny that you could say I am rebounding; or that I don't think of him daily. But I can say I no longer have love for him; but more of the person he used to be and the times we once shared - I am for the most part over them too.

You ask if I think he's rebounding. Well, that's something entirely different. Once he said to me, "I used to think love was any pretty girl who payed me attention."

Keep this in mind while you decide, friend. Maturity is something that is above all. It can not be taught, but must be learned.

I said no shame - Pay attention.

For the record, someone who's rebounding would still be impacted by unsettled feelings from the past - At this rate I'll be over it by next month.

I'll Take My Own Advice

When we feel broken hearted it is all too easy to wallow in the emptiness and pain and forget that as with everything in life this to shall pass. Yes, it is true; you will get over your broken heart and live to love again, as will I.

What is not as certain is how well we will heal. While the pain of every love lost does eventually pass we do carry scars. Some of these scars are nothing more than memories of events with no recollection of the emotions those events once invoked. In these memories we learn lessons. We learn what we will and will not tolerate in relationships. We learn what our limits are, emotionally speaking, and we learn about our capacity to love. We learn what we want and don’t want in a partner, the traits we find attractive and those that we can live without.

By trial and error we learn what it is we really want in our love life and that makes all the heartbreaks worth the pain. We find out new things about ourselves when we lose love. Some of those things are hard to face because being human we are not perfect and when a relationship ends we are forced to confront our own role in its demise.

Relationships never ever end because of one person. It is an intricate web of many different factors contributed by both parties that determines whether a relationship works out or fizzles out. By treating a break up as a learning experience we can stop ourselves from making similar mistakes in the next relationship.

While it may be repetitive to hear nursing a broken heart is an essential part of having healthy well-adjusted relationships, it is the truth.

Note To Self, & You

I was asked, "If I were to love, and then discovered it was a lie, would I still love this lie?"

I think this a very important question. One that is far too often overlooked as an obvious. Typically people see themselves as 'I'm too distanced/jaded to admit' that you could possibly be weak to those who burry themselves deep inside your heart - To love is unconditional is it not?

Yet all too often we can decieve ourselves with delusions of our own making and then perhaps, it is the delusion we love and not the person. Beware of this cause for some to say, "Love is blind."

On the one hand love of the delusion is shattered by the acceptance of the truth, but may I suggest that acceptance of the person's reality vouchsafes the love of the person. Therefore your love may remain even if the truth shatters the illusion inflicted upon you.

However, if it is the promise implicit in the illusion and not the reality of that person you need, then it is not love to remain with that person because this ultimately decieves the person and hurts you.

I think that being honest enough to disengage from someone who won't meet your emotional needs is a profound act of love, after all it is not love at all to live a lie.

Glorify The Object

I wanted to write something profound but I am sitting here bleary-eyed and weary. I have received news recently that will reshape the outlook of my future . . .

I want to accept the fact that this is the life we have and that there are certain things we will and won't have to do/be in order to feel content - yet not so content that we become complacent.

Yes I would like to go back to Europe with a lover one day. Anyones lover for that matter.

As I judge, I can also be judged.

glo·ri·fy
–verb (used with object), -fied, -fy·ing.
1.to cause to be or treat as being more splendid, excellent, etc., than would normally be considered.

2.to honor with praise, admiration, or worship; extol.

Dear Lady,

I stare into the mirror, but you've already left. Your make-up lingers on my cheek, a badge of your love, my devotion. Outside the heavens explode in an one-instrument harmony; the percussion of raindrops echoing down this lonely street. The crack and roll of the thunder, the encore to the beautiful symphony of the night.

Cut By Numbers

I.

these
broken bits
of bitterness
that self control
can't
confine have
sold me short
of pretending that
I am
safe.

II.

doing what i've
wanted has left me
miserable
but
hell,
at least
someone
was entertained.

III.

The ocean is beautiful and sad and people love it for a couple of days before leaving it. They call it their home, they say their blood runs thick with it, they breathe the air and finally feel at peace with all their pieces.

They leave and choose every time to continue their old life, the one without surprises and abounding with uneasy comfort. Secretly people long for the ocean, want to remember how happy they felt and be encompassed in wild wonder.

The ocean never changes. It watches as you sit and weep. It watches as you bring new lovers and pretend to have something worth while. As you stand and think and fall in love with crashes. It watches as you grow old and slowly fill with more frustration and anger for a life you can't be bothered to change.

There's a secret that it can't tell you. Something so deep and heartfelt and you can lie to yourself, but that never changed anything. It can't.

The ocean doesn't care. It can't.

IV.

I can't see the ocean from where I live,

but I can feel the pulses in my heart and
at one time
yours.
Mine is fast, fluttery,
will probably fail.

Yours is slow and steady
and strong, except
when I was
close
closer
closed.

My arms tangled with
your arms, my fingers tracing your
fingers, my body aligned
with your body, my mouth on your
lips. we covered each other,
saved each other.

Nothing
was said.

You called me nice as I showed every hateful part of my personality. We spoke of the woman you were going to sleep with that night, not a suitable replacement for me but one that won't ask as many questions. You laughed over my slipping words, my inexcusable panic. I stared you down as you tried to bring up the courage to look me in the eye. You watched my control dissolve into a scar, one that creates hard eyes and false smiles.

The rhythms are pounding in my
mind, in my lungs. I need escape,
but it will only be a
vacation, a few days of
quiet before chaos
catches up.
I can't escape my thoughts.
I want to scream, but I need
the silence so terribly.
I want to leave.
Every thing is so broken.
The ocean is too far away
(like yourheartbeat)
and the rain does believe in always.

Remember?

I wanted to ask if I was beautiful now that I have nothing to offer you. I told you that I wasn't willing to ignore the worst parts of your personality, that I accepted you as a whole being. You told me you have grown tired, so tired. (I couldn't wake you up. I can't make you see. You're just so scared.) You looked bored. It would have been the same reaction if I had told you I loved you. I didn't know real life could be this goddamn dramatic, this ugly . . . this sad.

It's a desolate
cold place.

Loneliness, that is.

A Reasonable Observation

Today's blog is going to be about sex, so be forewarned.

A friend asked me , "Today I took a girl out, it went well. Everything seemed to go as planned and I just assumed I'd get some ass.. What's up with women not wanting to have sex?"

Unfortunately, as you approach twenty-five or so, you notice a trend shift. More and more often, you'll be expecting to get some and won't get any at all.

Here boys, I will let you know a secret of the ages... While a lady does not mind being single, and has no plans of becoming celibate, she will realise that there are certain rules and guidelines to the game of casual sex to which a woman in her twenties and thirties must adhere if she plans to protect herself from a rather juvenile case of broken heart.

Single, intelligent, sexually active women do not have casual sex with men they consider to be in the "candidate pool".

This "candidate pool" consists of men that a woman knows who have presented the requisite traits and attributes for being considered for an exclusive, progressive relationship.

In short, a woman should not "fuck" a man she considers "lovable".

Not "lovable" in the casual sense of the word, like a puppy or a friendly midget, but in the practical sense. That is, a man they could fall in love with.

I know, fellas. Absurd.

The logic goes as follows:
"If he's cute and he turns you on and you think he might be good in the sack, give him some. If he's all those things, maybe even to a lesser degree, but is also atypically kind and sensitive, cultured, mature, intelligent and ambitious, then make him wait."

Preposterous, right? But I shit you not, this is the way we think. And it's mostly your fault for being so callous in your kind of seek-and-destroy approach. We have adapted and evolved as a gender. Your covers are blown.

So, if you want sex from a woman, but you're not interested in anything beyond that, here is the trick. Be "just nice enough". Don't be a prick. That won't get you anywhere. Be nice. But just enough. Occasionally you must do something assholish to remind her that she could never be with someone like you. Something that will remove you from the candidate pool.

See, if you look at it like a spectrum consisting of four overlapping "zones" or "pools", then it makes sense.

It begins with the dreaded "friend zone". Here you have no chance of getting any because you have somehow trained her to regard your penis as an afterthought.

Then there is what they call the "yummy zone". Here she is planning to give up the draws just as soon as the opportunity presents itself because she finds you so "yummy".

Then there is the bittersweet "candidate zone", or "pool" as it were. Here sex is a possibility, but only under the "right" circumstances. And if it does take place, things will only get more complicated from there. This is my least favorite place to be.

Then there is the "asshole zone". There are many ways to get here, before or after sex.

Ironically, there is a strong possibility of sex here. She hates you, and for women, that is intoxicating. Fortunately, this is reversible. It's far better to be here than in the friend zone though. You're more likely to get laid.

So, there you have it. You're welcome.

Where Is The Beer

Life is a series of ups and downs, a never ending and constantly changing cycle. Your life and your outlook on it greatly influences the lengths and severity of these inevitable changes. Right now, I am on a serious downer and the only thing that is cheering me up right now is the progress in my music and this blog.

As of now, I am dreading the coming weeks, hoping for some sort of catastrophe that will relieve me of this burden for a good long time. I know that everyone has gone through it, and for doing they are better people. I will survive somehow, but at this point in time, I do not quite know how.

It is constantly in the back of my mind, lurking there like the ghost of my past waiting to spring out an destroy everything that I have worked so hard to accomplish. The quicker that this month ends, the happier I will be. I know that I am going to have to stick this one out and that it will all be better once things settle down, but right now I am just not that into it.

My life is in the downer faze, my only reconciliation is that this weekend was a weekend, not a pseudo-weekend filled with false pretenses.

As they say in Latin, carpe diem.

Primative

Yesterday's goals,
dim memories.
Dark saddened eyes,
blurring with tears.
Painful scars borne;
Love's history.
Futures crumble
when doubt appears.
No brightly lit hope envisioned,
When following after harsh words.
Hurt soul splits in twain, partitioned.
Swooned by appeal - when numbness lured.

Apologies made, never bought.
Price paid turned out far too costly.
Though never known what would be wrought -
Must walk into the night softly.

One wish, only to be released.
Granted - now receive this token.
Words written in rhyme, love's deceased.
When promises made . . . were broken.

At Second Glance

These days, people do not care about the world around them. Nobody takes the time to just sit back and appreciate the things that are around them. No longer do people care about water flowing out of a beautiful fountain or the wonderful pieces of architecture dotting your locale main street. People are so caught up in the hustle and bustle of everyday life that they forget that there are things around them that took time and effort to create. There is no appreciation anymore for the wonders of humanity.

When the Empire State Building was first built, people marveled at the sheer greatness of humanity that was put into that building. Now, it's just an artifact of what used to be the tallest building in the world. Even some of the most beautiful pieces of architecture are thrust into the background of everyday living. Not one person truly stops to marvel at the truly amazing buildings that dot the cities of America. The things that are on people's minds are work and pleasure, with no space left for appreciation of beauty. This needs to change or eventually these buildings and creations of man's genius will be forgotten, reminiscent of an era when people gave a damn what their city looked like.

Is it so difficult to just stop and marvel in man's acheivements? Why can a person work twelve hour days, even on Saturday, but not find the time to just stop and appreciate? People need to change for their own good. Man needs to be taken down a notch; the god-like businessmen and women need to have something that is greater than even them.

Man is supposed to feel inferior, or else people come into power who have nothing left to fear. This lack of fear is what breeds dictators and serial killers. When you no longer feel that there is something out there greater than you, you lose sight of he common good. You lose sight of the true beauty of humanity and its wonders.

A building may be just a building, a fountain just a fountain, but not if you do not want it to be. The mind perceives what you want it to, so give it something nice. You will be a happier person and you will begin to appreciate just living.

As Randolph Bourne said, "Few people even scratch the surface, much less exhaust the contemplation of their own experience."

Whispers In The Wind

Drifting eyes they met
Anticipation lingers
Walk with me tonight



Destruction lives on
Charred leaves mouldering ashes
The end of times



Perfection in white
Defeated in black



Repent now my girl
Feel what you once felt
Be me
Don't leave me to die

Soft

today i turn my blood to sweetest wine

a holy sign imbued with the divine

today's the day the gods walk out on me

the great divide is crossed for you by me

We watch the dance of death

Through an open window

A shattered voice calls out

Above the whine of a siren

My heart is a machine gun

Shooting over your head

Piercing the night sky

The stars come out like tear drops

From the oceans of your eyes

Beklosopy

1. Mistakes are great, they humble you. They make you a better person.
2. Being a failure for a lifetime is being a failure.
Being a failure and learning from that failure is being human.
3. There are successes in life and then there are failures. You take them cum grano salis.


As I sit here reflecting upon the night's events, I come to wonder about the breakdown of the moral fiber of just about every person that I know. What is it that causes such a compete change in character in so many of these good people? Why the sudden urge to throw caution to the wind and give into moral repreeve?

These questions came up tonight as I sat in a living room, listening to my mood being played upon the keyboard beside me. I realise morality is ever dwindling, decreasing as the stereotypes are played out before me. Ways of life are replaced by an edgier notion, one who has no morale fiber left intact.

"Why has this change occurred?" One might ask. The answer is I really do not know. Obviously, this is a select group of people who see it fit to partake in various acts of debauchery and youthen desire.

Aristotle once said that, "Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit." It seems, though, that this fruit has begun to rot.