Wardrobe of Eunuchs

L'histoire de Moi

Friday, April 30, 2004

HELEN KELLER WAS ONE HELL OF A CONTENDER
PART II

The first word I ever said was "no."

Heh, it's kind of humorous if you think of the type of personality I have, and especially how I was as a child. I was rock hard stubburn, and even to this day I am. Once I make a decision for myself, it's final, there's no swaying it or trying to compromise. I can definantly testify that I'm stubborn to a fault. In fact, that's probably one of my worst traits, but, then again, probably one of my best, considering I always stick to my word.

Though I did have a bit of a southern accent off and on throughout my childhood (the reason being I moved around a lot), I've always had good grammer and well-developed speech. This, however, I cannot say for my twin brother, who had troubles with his Rs and Ls until he got out of grade school. For example, his form of racecar would come out as "wacecaw," or if he said talk to me, it would be "tawk to me." I often wonder how that happens with kids, as in, why I talked right and he didn't, so I suppose I'll maybe, at some point, look it up and find out. But not now.

Talking is the thing that makes us, us. How different would we be from any other animals if we did not have the gift of language? Not only would it be extremely difficult within daily communication, but there would be no books, no interenet, and not much of anything else outside of just surviving.

However, though it is a hell of an amazing gift and blessing we humans have been granted, couldn't it also be considered a curse? Countless times we've been known to stick our foot in our mouths, slander someones reputation or name (which could get someone killed, or even US killed), and caused a numerous amount of disappointment, sorrow, guilt, dispare, and just terrible feelings to well-up inside of the listenner. This is not to say that everything that slips off of our lips is crude and corrupt, but how is it that we can go into the gallows of Hell and back with words, yet we cannot describe many of the wonderful things that happen? Why is that? We can go into endless discription about terrible happennings, yet with amazing experiences, we have nothing to say for them. Why is it not the other way around? Sometimes, at lengths, words have gone far enough to make someone want to end there own life. I guarentee the amount of heartbreak songs as oppose to love songs overrides the latter twice as much.

I know, it may seem trivial and quite stoic to speak under these terms, but are they not true? Even now, as I write these symbols onto the world wide web, my thoughts are trite and filled with only despair. Yet another example of how there are so many ways to describe how ugly bad times can be, and only a handful of ways to describe the good. However, I am still open-minded enough to believe that maybe there is a better perception of this. There must be, but I just wish someone could point it out to the rest of us. Yet, in most accounts, hope is often left in vain.

Yet speech is not only a gift (or curse, if your glass is half empty), but it is also an art. It takes us years to conspire a detailed though, let alone begin to formulate correct sentence structures. This is especially hard in English and French, where there are many irregular forms of words. I've always performed excellently in English, but I never realized how gifted I was until I was in the 7th grade, when I received a perfect score on the state-wide persuasive essay. Not only that, but (even though I was not the BEST person in 7th grade, and in trouble all the time) my English teacher, Mr. Brandon, told my mother and the other teachers I was the smartest and most well-written 7th grade student he'd ever seen. Mind you, he'd sent me out in the hall on countless occations due to my lack of respect and swelling attitude, yet he still said these things about me.

Articulation is a wonderful thing. Not only is it easier to express yourself and communicate affectively, but having wide range of vocabulary comes as second nature, and it's easier to read complex writing, such as Beowulf or Shakespeare. Though, some are discriminated because they are not articulate enough. I'm not sure how to relate to this, because I myself have never been in that position, though my brother will barely pick up the classifieds. However, I do know that, just because someone uses simple words, does NOT mean that they are stupid, and in no way puts them on a lower scale than anyone else.

Right now, I don't even know what the hell I'm trying to get at, which is also a fault. Even though we have thousands of pages worth of words in the dictionary, still yet it is sometimes hard to comprehend what others are trying to interpret, let alone ourselves.

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

HELEN KELLER WAS ONE HELL OF A CONTENDER
PART I

When I was a kid, maybe 5 or 6, I use to pray every night to God that he would give me glasses, though I had 20/20 vision. I don't know why I was so fascinated with glasses, and maybe a lot of kids were, but they just seemed so...who knows, just cool and unique, I guess. I remember wearing my friend Scotty's glasses in my Kindergarden class, and getting in trouble by the teacher. "That'll ruin your eyes, young lady," she'd said.

After a few years wore off, so did my fondness for glasses. Glasses then became an apprehension, because the further on grade school goes, the more and more glasses shy away from being unique, and go into the land of geekyness. Well, it just so happened God finally granted my wish in the 4th grade. I cried and cried, because not only had the barber just butchered my hair into some triangular bob, but now I had to wear these big stupid glasses, which set me even farther apart than I already was from the kids in my grade. Needless to say, I wore them sparcely.

The less and less a wore them, the worse my vision became. But I didn't mind- anything to fit in, right? I continued not to wear them for years, but then started to wear them off and on in the 8th grade, finally realizing how bad my vision was from the difference between the world through the lens and the world without. Everytime I saw an eye doctor, he'd tell me I needed to where my glasses more often. So, I started wearing them more and more, and eventually I recieved contacts.

I wish I could remember how well things were defined when I was 3. Sure, I have the fond memories of watching Urika's Castle, playing cars with my twin brother, playing with fingerpaints and such, but I don't remember the extreme detail that was there. Surely objects needed to be vibrant and stand out to attract a 3 year old's attension, and maybe if I still had that natural vision, things in this world would be more interesting. The first few weeks I had my contacts, it was as though I was looking at things through a glass, and not really seeing anything, kind of like the way Aristotle felt (though somewhat ironic, consider I didn't feel that way with glasses, that actually DO have glass in them).

Hmmm...

Sunday, April 25, 2004

HOPE FOR THE BEST, PLAN FOR THE WORST, AND MAYBE WIND UP SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE- BRIGHT EYES

Geez...lately song lyrics have been seeming all too real with what's going on around me... I would write more, but as of late my mind's been pretty jumbled, leaving me no space to get out complete thoughts that anyone could decently interpret. Did that even make since?

So, in the meantime, I'll post little thoughts that are passing me by like clouds on a windy night...

I've always needed wide open spaces. This doesn't necessarily mean a huge amount of space, just...places that aren't crouded. I'd prefer a field over woods anyday. There's just something that puts me at utter contempt to be able to visuallize how far I can go, how free I am to move around...I dunno. I guess I also like being able to see that there's more out there than this, whatever this may be. I suppose it also relieves the daily pressures of having to worry about myself being top priority (i.e., worrying about reputation, what clothes to wear, how well I'll do on a big test, etc), and that there are other things that are just as important; that I'm only just a small aspect of this world.

Guys just don't get it. I'm speaking generally, when really it's one specific person I'm talking about. And no, this is not a topic open for discussion. Does ANY guy know what he really wants? Seriously, all the guys I've known live in the 'spur of the moment', save for a few born-agains. They think they know what they want, when really they have absolutely no clue, only how they feel at that particular moment. You argue and argue until you finally break up for the final time, and you swear it not only to him, but yourself, and a few days later he's crawling back claiming he knows there's something special still there, if you'd just give him a chance. Hello!??! The guy hasn't even had time to change! It's called insecurity. Gosh...it sucks to be able to predict someone's every movement, and know exactly what the hell's going on, even if he doesn't. That's boring.

Yea, and this entry is fucking boring, so I'm leaving. GOOD bye.

Saturday, April 17, 2004

GOODBYE AGAIN

We tried to undo the damage done, but it lingered, and inevitably crushed us

Ever since that one fateful night you let me down

It's been waiting for us around the corner

Waiting for us to not look when we tried crossing the street

That which we did so many times

We use to have it, you know

We were unstopable, you and I

It's unbelieveable to think of all that's happened

When I think of how it use to be, and how it was before that,

When we just looked at each other through the cages we'd made for ourselves

Did you lose the light that once amitted from you,

Or was it simply from the hole in the wall?

And now, finally, I have to take the stand for the both of us

Why do I feel I've always known you'd be too weak to do it?

No, I don't want you to, I'll be the willing martyr

Here comes the intersection, you know who's around the corner

So...I'll confront him, while you go left, OK?

There's no use in arguing, my mind's already made up.

Godspeed you, and I pray you don't ruin what you come across in the future

The way you did on that fateful night

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

http://quiz.ravenblack.net/blood.pl?biter=Jevudi

Saturday, April 10, 2004

DUDE, YOU PISSED YOUR PANTS; DON'T GET MAD AT ME FOR IT

Here I sit at 12:15. I still have my nice clothes on that I haven't gone anywhere all day in but to Movie Gallery. I took a shower and shaved my legs for no particular event. I'm going to sleep in the car tonight so I don't have to get up and ready before 8, when I have to go visit my sisters for Easter. Logan feels like he's finally come to terms with what he really wants, and is afraid of hurting my feelings. I, on the other hand, am far ahead of him, and have already made that decision before he even thought about making one himself.

I couldn't imagine things any other way.

It seems that there should be something more to say on the subject, but there really isn't anything left of importance. It'd be kind of like trying to elaborate a scene that's been going on forever, but only talk about sausage (if THAT makes any sense). Impatience overruled the situation, though I have long since stepped back from it to be but a mere spectator. Nothing's really been the same since that night. It seems as though I'd finally fallen off the cliff I'd skimmed for so long, only to land on a totally different planet adjacent to my "friends." On this planet, time goes faster and is used more productively.

It seems as though everyone is way back in the distance, like so many things, and I'm entering a different stage. To what, I don't know, but to keep walking while trying to squint back and keep sight of everything is impossible. So far, I'm ahead of everyone, and that's alright for me I suppose. On the other hand, I imagine it to be quite hard for the others, kind of like carpooling with one person living 15 minutes out of the way.

It seems that Logan tried to keep up. He couldn't keep up, as many can't. He's afraid to jump out of the circle and begin his own. Not to sound like an egotist, but it's been obvious for quite a while that he's a follower, and that's all he'll ever be until and if something miraculous happens. Once Logan was a good Christian boy. Logan's friends didn't believe in God, so why should Logan? Once Logan was drug free. Logan's friends did it all the time, and were OK, so why couldn't Logan? Once Logan had a crush on a girl, and they finally got together.

He disappointed her, so why shouldn't Logan?

Monday, April 05, 2004

DIRTY FRENCHIES MAKE IT NOWHERE IN AMERICA

I started a joke, which started the whole world crying,
but I didn't see that the joke was on me, oh no.

I started to cry, which started the whole world laughing,
oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was on me.

I looked at the skies, running my hands over my eyes,
and I fell out of bed, hurting my head from things that I'd said.

Til I finally died, which started the whole world living,
oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was on me.

I looked at the skies, running my hands over my eyes,
and I fell out of bed, hurting my head from things that I'd said.

'Til I finally died, which started the whole world living,
oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was one me.

Sunday, April 04, 2004

I RECOGNIZE THEE, COME FORTH FROM THE SHADOWS

The You and the I. Not in a thousand years would I have ever thought we'd be in the same sentence together, let alone exclusively.

It's sounds cliche to say I knew there was something about you from the first time I saw you. True, my eyes were as a newborn's when I came here. I knew no one, therefore I could have anything I wanted, so to speak. Still yet, this did not prepare me or make my eyes equipped enough to look apon a grace and bewitchery so distinguished as yours. Though you seemed evasive, there was something about you that was inticing and alluring. It was instant attraction, but I knew it would be in vein, for you were too beautiful; too timelessly beautiful for me to ever take the suggestion of there being an "us" seriously.

It was always there, in the back of my mind. At times it would have been so easy for me to just take you away with me, wherever away was, just so that I could make you happy. Surely if I could make you happy, then everything sinister would decipate, and the smile on your face would wash away any malace in the world for that split second. It was so tempting, yet at the same time so forbidden. The shoes I would have been so willing to wear were already being filled, whether it was a perfect fit or no. From the outside it seemed to be so, but was it?

I cannot be the one to say, but in the words of Robert Frost, "Nothing Gold Can Stay," this phrase justifying the OTHER one. You know of whom I speak. The mention of Him must seem immence to you, and makes you question what worth you really are. The relivance of his part, my friend, means far less than nothing. He is the past, and has no part in the present or future. He is merely part of a prelude, nothing less and nothing more. Do not fret that His character will come back to challange you, because it died in the first chapter. You, on the other hand, are very much alive in this unfinished novel.

You are the present, you are the future. Won't you make this book more interesting?