Even more reassurance that hating all of humanity is the right choice for me:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/29/business/29walmart.html?bl&ex=1228107600&en=95e0984e8f92cc7c&ei=5087%0A
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
America
Only in this ridiculous country would THIS be considered top news:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081128/ap_on_bi_ge/holiday_shopping_black_friday
People can't buy as much useless crap as they normally would?
Boohoo.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081128/ap_on_bi_ge/holiday_shopping_black_friday
People can't buy as much useless crap as they normally would?
Boohoo.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
So, okay, it goes a little some thing like this:
The pain I feel rips me from what false sense of security I had. The false pretensions, the false ideals and the fears I have had about life.
Every last idea I thought was mine gets taken away, every wayward thought gets ensnared within this odd shaped puzzle.
I'm exhausted and I feel so much pain right now. I wish there was some sort of relief I could get but right now, I just feel this huge hole I'm falling into and the darkness consuming me.
The pain I feel rips me from what false sense of security I had. The false pretensions, the false ideals and the fears I have had about life.
Every last idea I thought was mine gets taken away, every wayward thought gets ensnared within this odd shaped puzzle.
I'm exhausted and I feel so much pain right now. I wish there was some sort of relief I could get but right now, I just feel this huge hole I'm falling into and the darkness consuming me.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
It's like this false metallic taste in my mouth,
my realization of your fake life
running parallel to mine.
You are wearing it all like some sort of dirty bird,
covered in black grime.
Alone with everyone except yourself,
this madness you love to wear and flaunt.
With all the substance of a gray mist
you are falling quicker than your wings can stand.
Stained with life and this lack of gain
that you love to hold so dear.
my realization of your fake life
running parallel to mine.
You are wearing it all like some sort of dirty bird,
covered in black grime.
Alone with everyone except yourself,
this madness you love to wear and flaunt.
With all the substance of a gray mist
you are falling quicker than your wings can stand.
Stained with life and this lack of gain
that you love to hold so dear.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Day Seventeen Nanowrimo '08
Week three, ideally things are downhill from this point, however idealism only stretches so far when you have a deadline beating on your head and a word count that STILL is not as high as it needs to be.
So the battle plan for this week is to impose myself on my best friend and live in his kitchen so I can stay away from any distractions and get my word count over 30k by this Wednesday. Thankfully the word count I do have will only mean that I need about fourteen thousand wordsish (does that word form/tense even exist?) and assuming I don't loose my mind or am kicked out I will make this goal.
The plot is there, I just need to find it. Possibly by beating my muse with a burlap sack full of door knobs...but uh...we'll see about that...
So the battle plan for this week is to impose myself on my best friend and live in his kitchen so I can stay away from any distractions and get my word count over 30k by this Wednesday. Thankfully the word count I do have will only mean that I need about fourteen thousand wordsish (does that word form/tense even exist?) and assuming I don't loose my mind or am kicked out I will make this goal.
The plot is there, I just need to find it. Possibly by beating my muse with a burlap sack full of door knobs...but uh...we'll see about that...
Saturday, November 15, 2008
To me some of the absolute sweetest moments of my life can be found in my childhood in the 16-bit and 32-bit era dream machines called the Super Nintendo Entertainment System and the Sony Playstation.
I was originally told I could be anything I wanted to be, then I was made fun of for what I wanted to be. Made to feel shame for just enjoying what I enjoyed in life...reading books and playing video games...but they were both so much more to me. They were escapism from a childhood that at times borderlined on absolute insanity.
The details are trivial and somewhat useless because I did survive childhood mostly intact but I did loose a few things I once held precious...the ability to try and fail, the ability to simply do,
I was originally told I could be anything I wanted to be, then I was made fun of for what I wanted to be. Made to feel shame for just enjoying what I enjoyed in life...reading books and playing video games...but they were both so much more to me. They were escapism from a childhood that at times borderlined on absolute insanity.
The details are trivial and somewhat useless because I did survive childhood mostly intact but I did loose a few things I once held precious...the ability to try and fail, the ability to simply do,
Friday, November 14, 2008
Day 14
Rather then try to come up with some fancy metaphor for my writing I'll just come out and say the word count is a bitter but sweet struggle. Even though I'm struggling with feelings of inadequacy and despair, there are still these bursts of creativity that remind me that this novel idea isn't as stupid as I may think it is, in my weaker moments that is.
Although part of me wants to make a career out of writing, the reason I write is for my own sake. There is an almost redemptive element I can find in NANOWRIMO, The ability to loose myself in the creative process and know that no matter how poorly received my ideas are they are still my ideas and no one can ever strip me of them.
So yeah, writing isn't any much easier than yesterday but I suppose the difference is that if I push myself hard over the next couple of days I can hit 25k and then be on the downhill side of this novel and also the fact is that no matter what happens this is the best way I could have spent my November.
Although part of me wants to make a career out of writing, the reason I write is for my own sake. There is an almost redemptive element I can find in NANOWRIMO, The ability to loose myself in the creative process and know that no matter how poorly received my ideas are they are still my ideas and no one can ever strip me of them.
So yeah, writing isn't any much easier than yesterday but I suppose the difference is that if I push myself hard over the next couple of days I can hit 25k and then be on the downhill side of this novel and also the fact is that no matter what happens this is the best way I could have spent my November.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Day 13
Day 13
You know honesty sucks, a lot.
If I was to be honest I am having a lot of trouble with writing and just between you and me, I honestly think I should stop writing.
I am not a writer, I cannot write, I am a terrible writer, I have no talent, no skill and have no idea just what is going on.
I'm staring at a large black hole that is currently sucking all of the hope concerning my writing away. Oh, there went my dignity too. Oh well.
The theme song for this novel has been 'Creep' by Radiohead. I keep asking myself "Why am I here?" and "What am I doing this?"
I have no talent at writing. I suck at this. I profoundly suck at writing and have no right to even try to flirt with the possible idea of me being a writer. I suck so bad that if there was such thing as a death penalty for horrible writing I would gladly walk up to the chopping block so I could have the agony of how terrible of a writer I am end. Promptly.
All the same I'm not giving up. I am not exactly sure what sort of hope I am clinging to as this point but I have always had trouble knowing when and how to quit. So at the very least if I'm going to die I'll die with a horrible manuscript in my hand.
You know honesty sucks, a lot.
If I was to be honest I am having a lot of trouble with writing and just between you and me, I honestly think I should stop writing.
I am not a writer, I cannot write, I am a terrible writer, I have no talent, no skill and have no idea just what is going on.
I'm staring at a large black hole that is currently sucking all of the hope concerning my writing away. Oh, there went my dignity too. Oh well.
The theme song for this novel has been 'Creep' by Radiohead. I keep asking myself "Why am I here?" and "What am I doing this?"
I have no talent at writing. I suck at this. I profoundly suck at writing and have no right to even try to flirt with the possible idea of me being a writer. I suck so bad that if there was such thing as a death penalty for horrible writing I would gladly walk up to the chopping block so I could have the agony of how terrible of a writer I am end. Promptly.
All the same I'm not giving up. I am not exactly sure what sort of hope I am clinging to as this point but I have always had trouble knowing when and how to quit. So at the very least if I'm going to die I'll die with a horrible manuscript in my hand.
I feel sick. Not 'so' sick I suppose, because that would imply this is some deep and new form of illness which has not been seen before...however I do feel sick, ill perhaps. But that doesn't begin to match up with the level of anxiety and stress I feel at being here, knowing I will soon not be able to return, knowing there is no home.
You know?
You know?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Day 12
"Show me don't tell me."
One of the single most helpful tidbits of writing advice I have ever been given. If I remember correctly this was gleaned from Stephen King's book on writing, which was quite shrewdly called "On Writing".
We have all read works of fiction which read as a 'Tell Me' work. "So and so did this and then they did that and ran over there", I personally find that sort of writing a bit dry, it is almost like reading a plot summary rather than an actual story.
Besides being a pet peeve I try to avoid, by actually 'Showing' the reader what is going on instead of simply 'Telling' them you get to delve deeper into the story while increasing that ever vital word count...or at least this is what I am telling myself as I try not to think about how behind I still am in word count.
One of the single most helpful tidbits of writing advice I have ever been given. If I remember correctly this was gleaned from Stephen King's book on writing, which was quite shrewdly called "On Writing".
We have all read works of fiction which read as a 'Tell Me' work. "So and so did this and then they did that and ran over there", I personally find that sort of writing a bit dry, it is almost like reading a plot summary rather than an actual story.
Besides being a pet peeve I try to avoid, by actually 'Showing' the reader what is going on instead of simply 'Telling' them you get to delve deeper into the story while increasing that ever vital word count...or at least this is what I am telling myself as I try not to think about how behind I still am in word count.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Day 11
Something about killing new characters with a huge explosion because of frustration about where they are not going yet.
** ** ** **
What do you do with new characters?
To be more specific, what do I do with those new characters that have become nothing but problems?
In order to fix the problem of a plot that has hit a few hiccups, I decided to introduce a few new characters. Honestly I do not know if this has helped because I have the sudden urge to have all of the new people tied up and placed in a room with a very large explosive device.
Taking some time to think about this a mass explosion may not actually fix the problem. My other solution would be to let them run wild and see what exactly it is they want to do...I mean worse case I can always use the backspace button, right?
So I guess this just means wait and see, maybe letting them run about could be the best thing for my story. Who knows?
** ** ** **
What do you do with new characters?
To be more specific, what do I do with those new characters that have become nothing but problems?
In order to fix the problem of a plot that has hit a few hiccups, I decided to introduce a few new characters. Honestly I do not know if this has helped because I have the sudden urge to have all of the new people tied up and placed in a room with a very large explosive device.
Taking some time to think about this a mass explosion may not actually fix the problem. My other solution would be to let them run wild and see what exactly it is they want to do...I mean worse case I can always use the backspace button, right?
So I guess this just means wait and see, maybe letting them run about could be the best thing for my story. Who knows?
Monday, November 10, 2008
Day 10 - Noveling
Day 10
The past few days have been odd and sadly unproductive writing wise. Friday my doctor put me on a new medicine and so far the only effect I've felt from the medicine is extreme drowsiness. Which obviously would make accomplishing my every day life difficult, much less the writing aspect.
I'm forgoing as much human contact as possible today and cutting this short so I can hopefully bring my woefully low word count into the lower ten thousands today.
Here is to coffee, writing and medicine that makes your head feel funny! Hooray!
The past few days have been odd and sadly unproductive writing wise. Friday my doctor put me on a new medicine and so far the only effect I've felt from the medicine is extreme drowsiness. Which obviously would make accomplishing my every day life difficult, much less the writing aspect.
I'm forgoing as much human contact as possible today and cutting this short so I can hopefully bring my woefully low word count into the lower ten thousands today.
Here is to coffee, writing and medicine that makes your head feel funny! Hooray!
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
Day Seven
Typically day seven is when the walls start to crash in, the honeymoon ends and the realization of how absolutely insane the idea of writing a novel in thirty days truly is.
And really it is insane but the important thing to remember is that this is the best kind of insanity. The kind of insanity where anything truly goes, the kind where no one can criticize you for being yourself and the kind where the only thing stopping you from success is yourself.
So, what does an aspiring novelist do when the walls of their fantasy novel writing land come crashing down?
Blow something up in the story and then keep writing, no looking back and no second guessing yourself. The only thing keeping this noveling project from eating your soul with a side helping of doubt and self loathing is pure momentum.
I’m telling myself that truly any idea is a good idea and anything that honestly feels right to the story, do it. Otherwise I will be forced to endure chants of “You sold out!” from my soul in the middle of the night.
Writing is a scary enough endeavor without having to have your well meaning but ultimately unnecessary self in the way. The idea is to let the story flow and to let it pour with no regrets or worries over spilt milk.
So before I use anymore clichéd metaphors I’m getting back to work. Have a good weekend and enjoy the free time I don’t have!
And really it is insane but the important thing to remember is that this is the best kind of insanity. The kind of insanity where anything truly goes, the kind where no one can criticize you for being yourself and the kind where the only thing stopping you from success is yourself.
So, what does an aspiring novelist do when the walls of their fantasy novel writing land come crashing down?
Blow something up in the story and then keep writing, no looking back and no second guessing yourself. The only thing keeping this noveling project from eating your soul with a side helping of doubt and self loathing is pure momentum.
I’m telling myself that truly any idea is a good idea and anything that honestly feels right to the story, do it. Otherwise I will be forced to endure chants of “You sold out!” from my soul in the middle of the night.
Writing is a scary enough endeavor without having to have your well meaning but ultimately unnecessary self in the way. The idea is to let the story flow and to let it pour with no regrets or worries over spilt milk.
So before I use anymore clichéd metaphors I’m getting back to work. Have a good weekend and enjoy the free time I don’t have!
Thursday, November 6, 2008
I just sort of keep listening to the same song on repeat...again and again and again.
I'm so tired.
I just do not even want to care right now but I do.
Jesus it gets so exhausting to just wake up and be around people. Half the time they aren't even to blame...even the damn annoying ones aren't to blame...its not even half the time...almost all the time the problem is me. Me being so selfish and unwilling to be used, me being so arrogant and prideful and me thinking the whole damn world revolves around me.
But you know, I'm so tired of feeling alone. I know it is my fault and my choice to keep pushing you away but dammit, I can't take much more of this pain.
I'm sick of the melancholy, the being unemployed, not knowing if I get the internship, not knowing how much I actually matter because I'm too stupid to realize your love is sufficient.
I don't even know if I give a fuck about being happy because of how exhausted I am.
Am I making sense here?
I'm feeling this insane mixture of raw pain, depression, loneliness and exhaustion. It makes me swear, it is making me want to scream out loud until my vocal chords bust and explode. I'm hurting so much I would almost welcome the pain, just so I could know I'm alive, so I know I'm not dead and in my very own custom made Hell.
I don't even know why I'm here or what I am doing. All of this become so freaking trite and useless so quickly.
I just wish myself was enough to make people love me, like me and accept me. I don't know why i want any of them to want me but I do. It makes no sense because having others involved makes the pain possibilities so much greater...but I still long for it and lust for it. Lust for the attention and the possibilities of being loved.
And, and what? What now? What now?
I'm so tired.
I just do not even want to care right now but I do.
Jesus it gets so exhausting to just wake up and be around people. Half the time they aren't even to blame...even the damn annoying ones aren't to blame...its not even half the time...almost all the time the problem is me. Me being so selfish and unwilling to be used, me being so arrogant and prideful and me thinking the whole damn world revolves around me.
But you know, I'm so tired of feeling alone. I know it is my fault and my choice to keep pushing you away but dammit, I can't take much more of this pain.
I'm sick of the melancholy, the being unemployed, not knowing if I get the internship, not knowing how much I actually matter because I'm too stupid to realize your love is sufficient.
I don't even know if I give a fuck about being happy because of how exhausted I am.
Am I making sense here?
I'm feeling this insane mixture of raw pain, depression, loneliness and exhaustion. It makes me swear, it is making me want to scream out loud until my vocal chords bust and explode. I'm hurting so much I would almost welcome the pain, just so I could know I'm alive, so I know I'm not dead and in my very own custom made Hell.
I don't even know why I'm here or what I am doing. All of this become so freaking trite and useless so quickly.
I just wish myself was enough to make people love me, like me and accept me. I don't know why i want any of them to want me but I do. It makes no sense because having others involved makes the pain possibilities so much greater...but I still long for it and lust for it. Lust for the attention and the possibilities of being loved.
And, and what? What now? What now?
It is being trapped in moments like these that I find myself,
my true self in all of its hypocrisy and lies.
The part of me I pretend is not real,
the part of me I wish I could kill
and the part of me that makes me cry.
I never find solace away from you
much less in me.
Never can I be apart of that which I hate
instead I am trapped.
Forever me being destroyed by you.
What is the point of this game?
All of this fragrant pain?
Every conversation with you
just reflecting how much it is I hate.
my true self in all of its hypocrisy and lies.
The part of me I pretend is not real,
the part of me I wish I could kill
and the part of me that makes me cry.
I never find solace away from you
much less in me.
Never can I be apart of that which I hate
instead I am trapped.
Forever me being destroyed by you.
What is the point of this game?
All of this fragrant pain?
Every conversation with you
just reflecting how much it is I hate.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Day 6
Day 6
Building the skeleton.
According to my wikipedia based research, basic anatomy states that if we didn't have bones we would be floppy masses of ickyness. Keeping this thought in mind (as well as my ship analogy) I spent most of yesterday and todays writing attempting to make a generalized skeleton outline for my story. Trying to get a better understanding for what the highs and the lows of my novel are.
I'm still not exactly sure what is going on.
There is a lot of general confusion and chaos and in ways I am getting vague glimpses as to what may be going on. On the plus side I'm only a few thousand words behind now and I think I may be caught up by tomorrow...hopefully at least.
Oh well no more time to talk! I'm needed back in surgery!
** ** **
Personal side note: Odds are that Obama is not the Antichrist...just saying.
Building the skeleton.
According to my wikipedia based research, basic anatomy states that if we didn't have bones we would be floppy masses of ickyness. Keeping this thought in mind (as well as my ship analogy) I spent most of yesterday and todays writing attempting to make a generalized skeleton outline for my story. Trying to get a better understanding for what the highs and the lows of my novel are.
I'm still not exactly sure what is going on.
There is a lot of general confusion and chaos and in ways I am getting vague glimpses as to what may be going on. On the plus side I'm only a few thousand words behind now and I think I may be caught up by tomorrow...hopefully at least.
Oh well no more time to talk! I'm needed back in surgery!
** ** **
Personal side note: Odds are that Obama is not the Antichrist...just saying.
Day Five
Day Five
If one does not know to which port one is sailing, no wind is favorable.
-Seneca
I've been told there are two kinds of writers: those who run a planned course and those who run hysterically yelping through the streets wearing only their birthday suits. Personally I like to think I fall somewhere in between.
When beginning a project I like to have an idea about where I am going and what exactly it is I am trying to do. Typically I have a beginning and end already in mind but the problem is navigating between the two points.
I've started by throwing my hapless heroes onto this alien world and their simple goal is to find one another and get back home before everything they know is destroyed. To me what makes a story good is what happens between the beginning and the end. The goals they have to make, the challenges they must overcome and the tensions in their relationships with one another.
But even the best charted course can be thrown off by ill favoring winds. It is looking like I'm going to have to break out the oars and manually row myself to some literary island where I can find some inspiring material...and maybe some pineapples.
If one does not know to which port one is sailing, no wind is favorable.
-Seneca
I've been told there are two kinds of writers: those who run a planned course and those who run hysterically yelping through the streets wearing only their birthday suits. Personally I like to think I fall somewhere in between.
When beginning a project I like to have an idea about where I am going and what exactly it is I am trying to do. Typically I have a beginning and end already in mind but the problem is navigating between the two points.
I've started by throwing my hapless heroes onto this alien world and their simple goal is to find one another and get back home before everything they know is destroyed. To me what makes a story good is what happens between the beginning and the end. The goals they have to make, the challenges they must overcome and the tensions in their relationships with one another.
But even the best charted course can be thrown off by ill favoring winds. It is looking like I'm going to have to break out the oars and manually row myself to some literary island where I can find some inspiring material...and maybe some pineapples.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Day Four
Day Four
My momentum has been derailed by having too much time to work on my novel. Instead of creating I spent most of the time compulsively eating mints and hating my writing.
One of the most difficult things for anyone to do is to genuinely believe in themselves while still retaining a sense of perspective. However, NANOWRIMO is all about loosing perspective because when you start talking about writing a novel in thirty days you might as well be trying to rob a bank using sock puppets.
* ** ** **
Version two:
Day Four
My writing momentum has unexpectedly slowed down. One of the more important keys to Nano success is momentum. Momentum that is caused by having a jam-packed schedule that forces you to set specific time for writing. Because of life circumstances I have way too much time on my hands and consequently I spend most of that time in self loathing and obsessive worrying.
I’m worried about my health, finding a good job, finishing school, fear I can’t write, worry about producing an original plot (as if that actually existed) and in general running around like a headless Chicken Little squawking about the sky falling…and it is fixing nothing.
The problem with worry is that the action by itself fixes nothing. The only way to fix an actual problem is by doing something, not by sitting and worrying. By this I mean taking action and not simply waiting so that I can become a reaction to some event.
So this is today’s plan: I decide to make lunch and eat it, I decided to go vote and I voted and now I am deciding to plant myself firmly in my desk chair and force myself to write any and every thought that comes to my head and count it towards my goal, because even if this is the worst crap I ever write I am at least going to die typing with a keyboard in one hand and my sense of inadequacy locked in my closet!
My momentum has been derailed by having too much time to work on my novel. Instead of creating I spent most of the time compulsively eating mints and hating my writing.
One of the most difficult things for anyone to do is to genuinely believe in themselves while still retaining a sense of perspective. However, NANOWRIMO is all about loosing perspective because when you start talking about writing a novel in thirty days you might as well be trying to rob a bank using sock puppets.
* ** ** **
Version two:
Day Four
My writing momentum has unexpectedly slowed down. One of the more important keys to Nano success is momentum. Momentum that is caused by having a jam-packed schedule that forces you to set specific time for writing. Because of life circumstances I have way too much time on my hands and consequently I spend most of that time in self loathing and obsessive worrying.
I’m worried about my health, finding a good job, finishing school, fear I can’t write, worry about producing an original plot (as if that actually existed) and in general running around like a headless Chicken Little squawking about the sky falling…and it is fixing nothing.
The problem with worry is that the action by itself fixes nothing. The only way to fix an actual problem is by doing something, not by sitting and worrying. By this I mean taking action and not simply waiting so that I can become a reaction to some event.
So this is today’s plan: I decide to make lunch and eat it, I decided to go vote and I voted and now I am deciding to plant myself firmly in my desk chair and force myself to write any and every thought that comes to my head and count it towards my goal, because even if this is the worst crap I ever write I am at least going to die typing with a keyboard in one hand and my sense of inadequacy locked in my closet!
Monday, November 3, 2008
"Las Vegas?!?! Why in the world Las Vegas?"
"Las Vegas?!?! Why in the world Las Vegas?"
Wonderful question, amazing question actually. A question I am still asking myself.
But the answer goes back a few years to around 2002, the year I discovered the online ministry xxxchurch.com. Incidentally it was their first year of life. They started out as a completely outside the box ministry dedicated to spreading the simple message that "Porn is a bad thing but Jesus loves you" and their goal was to spread that message in as unconventional as possible, trying to add a bit of humor to an otherwise awkward and at the best of times a disturbing topic.
As the years grew so did the ministry, they started traveling to porn conventions around the world and setting up booths inside of them handing out Bibles and tshirts with the words "Jesus loves porn stars" and began to build relationships with those in the industry. Eventually this led them to setting up a fund to help the actors and producers get out of an industry that for most people becomes inescapable because of debt, drugs and no one wanting to help them get out.
Flash foward a few years into early 2009. xxxchurch will be setting up the first church on the actual Las Vegas strip itself, wedged in between casinos, strip clubs, bars and whatever else is there. The closest churches are a few miles away, tucked safely into the suburbs. This going to be their first actual church plant where they will be having daily services and setting up outreaches to the area targeting things such as business conventions, offering support for those visiting the city and are afraid they may fall into temptation and of course they will be reaching out into the depth of darkness to those who are being trodden down by the world and told they are worthless and have no future.
Where do I fit into all of this? I mean, it's not like I actually have a hidden past of being a ex-porn producer or something but the burden on my mind that doesn't let me sleep at night is that there are so many people shunned by church as a whole. How many of us actually go to churches that would welcome prostitutes, AIDS victims, porn stars, people openly homosexual, people who lost their entire lives to porn, people that grew up being sexually molested and have no idea what a normal and healthy relationship, those who molested those kids and those still shaking violently from coming off their last high? How many churches would actually risk getting the blood on their carpet and having their lives 'stained' by accident, simply because they came into contact with these 'undesirables'?
I don't say this to simply provoke feelings of pity because the last thing these people need is pity. They need justice, they need the love of Jesus to help them sort out their hellish lives so that they might actually be able to leave the past behind. Pity by itself is useless. They need emphatic compassion, the kind Jesus would show if he was here in person. He would walk up to these 'lesser ones' and hug them and tell them he loves them and that even before creation and he spoke them into existence he was madly in love with them and just wanted them to be his and for them to love him back.
It is this 'furiously passionate love' of Christ that they need and what we so often just neglect and at times forget completely. It's easy to develop a callous heart and an apathy to those that it hurts to look at it from out mid ranged level suburban prison we look ourselves in to keep the bad people out.
Everyone has different gifts and callings for different people and places and one of the few things I know for certain is that I'm being called to go and live in the darkest places to try and actually make a difference. I have only been sure of a handful of things in my life:
-Jesus loving me and calling me to be his
-Jesus telling me to get off my lazy butt and go tell others about him as a life and occupation
-Jesus telling me to go to the University of Mobile
-Jesus telling me to go to the loveless and love them
-And from what I can tell he told me to apply for an internship with xxxchurch
It is moments like these that life makes the most sense in but at the same time it scares me greatly because it means my life isn't mine and I'm simply on borrowed time. That everything physical is fleeting and the only way I'm going to be able to serve is by sacrificing every personal comfort and being willing to loose what I have.
This past year has been an incredibly frustrating one because although I did a semester of seminary it felt so cold and alien. It felt like I was slamming my head into this glass box and I was wanting to cry because I didn't fit. It's like everything except me was perfect and that I was the crazy one. And so after a semester I took a break and entered the work force migrating from one depressing sales job to the next, not sure what in the heck I was doing and why I was doing it.
"Work to eat and eat to work."
After a few months of this I started devolving excruciating stomach pain which resulted in the removal of my gallbladder in June and at least a dozen blood tests and another dozen assortment of x-rays, cat scans, endoscopies and many other things. Eventually I had another minor surgery where I had my bile and pancreatic ducts messed with and what would have been eventually a massive liver failure was averted in the nick of time but still, I am having problems with pain in just every day life and most of the time have no joy in eating food.
Throw in another stress factor of my family just being so wrapped up in their own problems (ie my step dad regressing back into alcoholism all gung ho style and trying to kill himself and me and my mom having to 'deal' with him and me and arguments, yelling, headaches, tears and just the insanity of it all was about enough to make me have another nervous break down all by itself) to really feel much sympathy for me. Thankfully I have had a close group of friends around here to support and encourage me and even though I don't know why this is all happening, it IS for some reason.
I feel like I am on the crux of something big. A large change that has been a long time in coming. I've never been the best at evangelism but I do know I have had times where God put me in places to talk to those who were downtrodden and even just being able to say "I'm sorry but I do care and Jesus does" is enough reason for me to go. Being able to share in peoples sorrows and pain and FEEL their pain with them is so draining...seeing peoples tears and feeling the knives being drive into their hearts will never become easy but it is a gift I have been given.
Just like any gift it has be used, the gift of love, the gift of faith and the gift of compassion. They have to be exercised like any talent and any muscle or they will become unable to function and die.
The natural desire we all have when we face pain is to run away and hide and to a lesser extent I've tried that for years. Who in their right mind wants to accept a calling where they know they are heading for a beautiful contradictory life of hardship and misery with the only reward being honest love? I mean, it sound ROMANTIC, don't get me wrong. That's one reason I love calling myself a "Freelance Minister", it sounds wicked awesome and makes people think I actually am something cool...but in reality it just means I just am not sure about aligning myself with any one particular denomination because really I don't care about the 'how' and 'why' as much as actually getting into the mess of life and doing something for once.
See? I'm running into another one of these crazy contradictions about myself. I want to serve and I don't want to serve, just like how I wish I could just get an IV of morphine pumping in my body 24/7 so I could be pain and stress free but at the same time I know it is PAIN that shapes us, that defines us, that makes us, that crafts us, that refines us and DEMANDS who we become.
I feel sort of like I'm crazy, of course anyone who knows Jesus knows that feeling, but despite the craziness there is this giddy excitement of psychotic horrific dread that my great uncle must have felt when he jumped out of a perfectly good landing ship and charged up the hellish Omaha beach on June 6th 1944.
It's paradoxical, this love and desire for love, being loved and still searching for that love but that is sort of what life is. Fitting together all of these little pieces and knowing that most of them won't fit but still trying, knowing that little we do matters in the long run but what matters is knowing we do the right thing for its own sake.
In a nut shell I think that is why. Partly because I feel called to do this, partly because I have to do this and partly because it is the right thing.
The most I can ask is prayer. I know how absolutely insane all of this sounds and I have no clue how, why or many details but I feel this is something I need to throw my life into.
Thanks for reading this ridiculously long thing.
Wonderful question, amazing question actually. A question I am still asking myself.
But the answer goes back a few years to around 2002, the year I discovered the online ministry xxxchurch.com. Incidentally it was their first year of life. They started out as a completely outside the box ministry dedicated to spreading the simple message that "Porn is a bad thing but Jesus loves you" and their goal was to spread that message in as unconventional as possible, trying to add a bit of humor to an otherwise awkward and at the best of times a disturbing topic.
As the years grew so did the ministry, they started traveling to porn conventions around the world and setting up booths inside of them handing out Bibles and tshirts with the words "Jesus loves porn stars" and began to build relationships with those in the industry. Eventually this led them to setting up a fund to help the actors and producers get out of an industry that for most people becomes inescapable because of debt, drugs and no one wanting to help them get out.
Flash foward a few years into early 2009. xxxchurch will be setting up the first church on the actual Las Vegas strip itself, wedged in between casinos, strip clubs, bars and whatever else is there. The closest churches are a few miles away, tucked safely into the suburbs. This going to be their first actual church plant where they will be having daily services and setting up outreaches to the area targeting things such as business conventions, offering support for those visiting the city and are afraid they may fall into temptation and of course they will be reaching out into the depth of darkness to those who are being trodden down by the world and told they are worthless and have no future.
Where do I fit into all of this? I mean, it's not like I actually have a hidden past of being a ex-porn producer or something but the burden on my mind that doesn't let me sleep at night is that there are so many people shunned by church as a whole. How many of us actually go to churches that would welcome prostitutes, AIDS victims, porn stars, people openly homosexual, people who lost their entire lives to porn, people that grew up being sexually molested and have no idea what a normal and healthy relationship, those who molested those kids and those still shaking violently from coming off their last high? How many churches would actually risk getting the blood on their carpet and having their lives 'stained' by accident, simply because they came into contact with these 'undesirables'?
I don't say this to simply provoke feelings of pity because the last thing these people need is pity. They need justice, they need the love of Jesus to help them sort out their hellish lives so that they might actually be able to leave the past behind. Pity by itself is useless. They need emphatic compassion, the kind Jesus would show if he was here in person. He would walk up to these 'lesser ones' and hug them and tell them he loves them and that even before creation and he spoke them into existence he was madly in love with them and just wanted them to be his and for them to love him back.
It is this 'furiously passionate love' of Christ that they need and what we so often just neglect and at times forget completely. It's easy to develop a callous heart and an apathy to those that it hurts to look at it from out mid ranged level suburban prison we look ourselves in to keep the bad people out.
Everyone has different gifts and callings for different people and places and one of the few things I know for certain is that I'm being called to go and live in the darkest places to try and actually make a difference. I have only been sure of a handful of things in my life:
-Jesus loving me and calling me to be his
-Jesus telling me to get off my lazy butt and go tell others about him as a life and occupation
-Jesus telling me to go to the University of Mobile
-Jesus telling me to go to the loveless and love them
-And from what I can tell he told me to apply for an internship with xxxchurch
It is moments like these that life makes the most sense in but at the same time it scares me greatly because it means my life isn't mine and I'm simply on borrowed time. That everything physical is fleeting and the only way I'm going to be able to serve is by sacrificing every personal comfort and being willing to loose what I have.
This past year has been an incredibly frustrating one because although I did a semester of seminary it felt so cold and alien. It felt like I was slamming my head into this glass box and I was wanting to cry because I didn't fit. It's like everything except me was perfect and that I was the crazy one. And so after a semester I took a break and entered the work force migrating from one depressing sales job to the next, not sure what in the heck I was doing and why I was doing it.
"Work to eat and eat to work."
After a few months of this I started devolving excruciating stomach pain which resulted in the removal of my gallbladder in June and at least a dozen blood tests and another dozen assortment of x-rays, cat scans, endoscopies and many other things. Eventually I had another minor surgery where I had my bile and pancreatic ducts messed with and what would have been eventually a massive liver failure was averted in the nick of time but still, I am having problems with pain in just every day life and most of the time have no joy in eating food.
Throw in another stress factor of my family just being so wrapped up in their own problems (ie my step dad regressing back into alcoholism all gung ho style and trying to kill himself and me and my mom having to 'deal' with him and me and arguments, yelling, headaches, tears and just the insanity of it all was about enough to make me have another nervous break down all by itself) to really feel much sympathy for me. Thankfully I have had a close group of friends around here to support and encourage me and even though I don't know why this is all happening, it IS for some reason.
I feel like I am on the crux of something big. A large change that has been a long time in coming. I've never been the best at evangelism but I do know I have had times where God put me in places to talk to those who were downtrodden and even just being able to say "I'm sorry but I do care and Jesus does" is enough reason for me to go. Being able to share in peoples sorrows and pain and FEEL their pain with them is so draining...seeing peoples tears and feeling the knives being drive into their hearts will never become easy but it is a gift I have been given.
Just like any gift it has be used, the gift of love, the gift of faith and the gift of compassion. They have to be exercised like any talent and any muscle or they will become unable to function and die.
The natural desire we all have when we face pain is to run away and hide and to a lesser extent I've tried that for years. Who in their right mind wants to accept a calling where they know they are heading for a beautiful contradictory life of hardship and misery with the only reward being honest love? I mean, it sound ROMANTIC, don't get me wrong. That's one reason I love calling myself a "Freelance Minister", it sounds wicked awesome and makes people think I actually am something cool...but in reality it just means I just am not sure about aligning myself with any one particular denomination because really I don't care about the 'how' and 'why' as much as actually getting into the mess of life and doing something for once.
See? I'm running into another one of these crazy contradictions about myself. I want to serve and I don't want to serve, just like how I wish I could just get an IV of morphine pumping in my body 24/7 so I could be pain and stress free but at the same time I know it is PAIN that shapes us, that defines us, that makes us, that crafts us, that refines us and DEMANDS who we become.
I feel sort of like I'm crazy, of course anyone who knows Jesus knows that feeling, but despite the craziness there is this giddy excitement of psychotic horrific dread that my great uncle must have felt when he jumped out of a perfectly good landing ship and charged up the hellish Omaha beach on June 6th 1944.
It's paradoxical, this love and desire for love, being loved and still searching for that love but that is sort of what life is. Fitting together all of these little pieces and knowing that most of them won't fit but still trying, knowing that little we do matters in the long run but what matters is knowing we do the right thing for its own sake.
In a nut shell I think that is why. Partly because I feel called to do this, partly because I have to do this and partly because it is the right thing.
The most I can ask is prayer. I know how absolutely insane all of this sounds and I have no clue how, why or many details but I feel this is something I need to throw my life into.
Thanks for reading this ridiculously long thing.
Beginnings
The amazing thing about creation of any kind is starting with the raw materials and after long hours of joyful yet frustrating work you start to get something that is at least passable for art. After deleting or setting it on fire you start again with a renewed passion and create something else subpar. After a few more tires and countless hours of self loathing you just throw something against the wall and accidentally create a masterpiece.
NANOWRIMO is like that, except with the fastfoward button held down.
The amazing thing about creation of any kind is starting with the raw materials and after long hours of joyful yet frustrating work you start to get something that is at least passable for art. After deleting or setting it on fire you start again with a renewed passion and create something else subpar. After a few more tires and countless hours of self loathing you just throw something against the wall and accidentally create a masterpiece.
NANOWRIMO is like that, except with the fastfoward button held down.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
"In the beginning..."
-Genesis 1:1
Those first words preface most of life. Every life and every endeavor have their first moments of life. Those struggling moments of quickly learning how to breath followed by many months and years of awkward movements of trying to learn how to walk and communicate with other people.
Novel writing is much the same way.
By what is a remarkably bewildering and messy way you bring about a confusing creation to life and despite how ugly it looks before you have it cleaned up, you love your new born creation.
This is only my second year of NANOWRIMO but so far I feel the same. There has been a lot of false starts and confusion but so far this fledgling novel is already leaving me behind. But like any child left unattended it can get in trouble quickly.
-Genesis 1:1
Those first words preface most of life. Every life and every endeavor have their first moments of life. Those struggling moments of quickly learning how to breath followed by many months and years of awkward movements of trying to learn how to walk and communicate with other people.
Novel writing is much the same way.
By what is a remarkably bewildering and messy way you bring about a confusing creation to life and despite how ugly it looks before you have it cleaned up, you love your new born creation.
This is only my second year of NANOWRIMO but so far I feel the same. There has been a lot of false starts and confusion but so far this fledgling novel is already leaving me behind. But like any child left unattended it can get in trouble quickly.
First bit of Second Novel (Another World)
Prologue:
The earth stands on the brink of destruction.
Climate change, global nuclear proliferation and the continued existence of reality
television have all long been predicted to bring about the death of all humanity. Indeed, the utter annihilation of all on the Earth but in the actual truth was much more sinister than what most could devise.
However, this truth had eluded so many for so long so that when it came none save a select few were prepared. Because of the very real human genetic disposition to ignore what was in front of them, humans had been oblivious to the true problem that had existed long before they began their lease on the planet they affectionately called Earth.
This blindness, self induced really, gave rise to many problems because humans did not come to live on what they considered to be their earth for the reasons it was most commonly believed.
Oh sure, there WAS a creation, they were in fact made in the image of a Higher
Being (whose name is being withheld due to legal reasons) and not what was the more common misconception of humans simply springing to existence out of thin air. But the common misunderstand that humans had was that they themselves were created on their watery blue planet. Instead, the true story is a bit more complicated then that. They came to be natives by a series of incidents that had long been forgotten by them.
Maltovus.
A name that mostly never spoken, partly out of fear and partly out of
uncertainty of how to actually pronounce the said name. But it was a name that drove many to madness when in fact it was spoken. Understanding this mysterious figure brings further depth to the knowing of not just earths history but why humans became denizens of what was otherwise an unremarkable planet, that in the grand scheme of things was nothing more than a dime a dozen.
Maltovus began life in the period of history before time itself was aware of its own existence. He was chief of the Guardians, a race of divine beings appointed the
task of governing the worlds, encouraging the growth of and the keeping of peace between the many sentient beings thruought creation.
Things were good for a while and then the unthinkable, yet realistically speaking the inevitable occurred: Maltovus began to question why exactly the Guardians must serve when they themselves were superior to their charges.
Like a plague this thought ripped through the ranks of The Guardians, infecting and beginning the long process of decay among those who had grown weary with their task.
War soon erupted in the heavens and rebellion sprung up among the planets. The fallen Guardians began to enslave and kill the beings they once had sworn to protect. Taking Maltovus as their sovereign Lord they called themselves The Mauro, that is The Darkness. Cast from the land of eternal light the Mauro quickly began to conquer the various worlds and attempt to eradicate all The Guardians who remained.
Billions upon billions of lives at a time were snuffed out in the battles. But
eventually, the light prevailed and struck a devastating blow against the seemingly invincible rebellion. Trapping Maltovus on a bluish green world The Guardians brought a race of people to the planet to help ensure that the evil would never be allowed to escape.
With the blessings of the Prime Mover, The Guardians sealed the world off from the rest of creation. But as with any great decision this came at a great price. Because of the gates sealing this world from the rest of creation the peoples perception of the spiritual and metaphysical waned and The Guardians soon became nothing more then the stories of fables. Eventually these people would grow to forget their origins and forget their greater task and concern themselves only for the pure task of survival and seeking comfort.
It should be duly noted that eventually these people named theirselves humans, or ‘The Earth Bound Ones’. Which evidently was such an obviously ironic gesture that it quite easily passed over their collective heads.
Years passed. On the Earth the people progressed in technology and excelled in their many endeavors such as farming, watch building and finding bigger and more efficient ways to kill larger and larger amounts of each other.
Despite the lack of tangible evidence it is believed that even though there was no possible way for him to communicate to those around him, the mere presence of Maltovus on the world was enough to cause a taint that ate at the hearts and souls of the people, twisting them into corruption.
Despite the growing evil a stronghold of evil goodness did indeed prevail. A small group, with antiquated knowledge of their past true origins, was still able to communicate with the Guardians and was able to bring about the old alliance, renewed and forged anew. With this they appointed themselves the protectors of the world and prepared for the great battle they knew was to come.
Eventually everything came to a head. Despite the earth being sealed off from the rest of creation, breaches began to occur. Mauro twisted by their personal evil and the eons of time they had spent dwelling in it, began to appear thruought the world.
No longer the elegant creatures of light they once were, fearful whispers began to spread of creatures that were darker than the nights in which they dwelled, they saw with fiendish golden eyes that pierced through all except the brightest of days and an endless appetite that fed off of the blood of all that they could find.
Eventually an underground war began to be waged between the Guardians and Mauro, both sides employing the humans to their own ends, proxies in a way that few really understood. The battles escalated up until a prophesied chosen one was found by the Guardians, a human born that would be able to extend his strength into the astral realm and fight the ever growing darkness.
His name was Nathan and he was an American University student who had only wanted to sleep another five minutes before he needed to leave for class, instead he managed to walk into an unexpected destiny and a war he could never have imagined existed.
An unlikely duo, a Guardian who went by the name of Amanda and a self stylized swordsman by the name of Paul Manning were both commissioned to find Nathan. Eventually the three met and teaming up with Nathan's friends Jillian and Jermies, they began a quest across the United States to find the location of Maltovus' Tomb and put an end to the threat.
After traversing many miles and facing many unimaginable horrors they arrived at the Tomb and to their horror Maltovus was released and thanked them for being such willing pawns of a plan they never could have foreseen. After Unleashing a wave of energy they destroyed the tomb and presumably the heroes.
Our story picks up upon their arrival to another time and another place…
** ** **
Chapter 1 - Newer Beginnings
Finding himself in another time and another place, Nathan looked up from the ground and was moderately surprised to not find himself dead. His immediate reaction was genuine surprise, which was followed by bewilderment which eventually tapered off to being a so so attitude of relief that was further aided by the fact he still had his trusty green backpack.
The first thing he tried to do was sit up and so far that worked out alright. The next idea he had had was to stand up but that didn't work out so well because he ended up face first on the ground again, with feeling as if his insides were turning to his outsides and vice versa.
Content to lie there face first; he noticed that the grass he was laying on was a funny color, but despite this new fact he took a deep breath. He felt the sun hitting his bare neck which caused a chill to run through his body. It was nice actually.
He took another deep breath and let out a content sigh, a pleasant sigh happy to simply lie in the sun. Unbeknownst to him a dark shadow quickly moved over him, passing so quick that his surreal moment of happiness was not interrupted. Instead he stretched his lanky frame outward and wrapped his fingers around the blades of grass.
It was perfect. Too perfect for a day in his life.
That was his first tip off that something was wrong.
The second clue he had that something was wrong involved the hellish screams of the creature beginning a dive bomb attack on him.
Daftly rolling out of the way Nathan felt the winged beast fly dangerously close to him, the presumably razor sharp claws brushing by so close he could hear the wind whistling in between them.
Crouching on his hands and knees he watched the feathery mass of claws and death swoop off and begin what was most likely going to be another aerial attempt at removing his head from his shoulder.
Dull as his sense were at times, Nathan was rather found of having his head on his shoulder, so he received the hint moderately well and took off running in the opposite direction.
Although he was facing what he was fairly certain would be his long coming yet untimely demise, Nathan was able to take a large sigh of relief. At first things DID seem too perfect with this day and really all this meant was that the world was back in balance and things were progressing the way they were supposed to be.
So when the rather large explosion that occurred approximately fifteen seconds later, saving his life, Nathan did not if he should be relived or worried.
The best he could come to was a mild compromise between the both and simply pass out.
** ** **
Explosions are a curious thing, no matter how one looks at them.
No matter if it is a child playing with a bottle rocket in their backyard or soldiers having an equally good time using military grade plastique explosives, the results are always the same: large craters and giggle of exhilaration.
So it should not come to the surprise of anyone that this particular explosion in question was indeed large, colorful and despite the original intentions of its creator interpreted by some local humanoid natives as being a sign from their gods that this years harvest was going to be a bountiful one and that they should feast and be merry.
It is unfortunate then for the natives that the supposed harvest never came and so after a very long year of frugal surviving, in less than ideal conditions, the villagers came to a rather unanimous decision to lynch their shamans and renounce their gods of wood and stone and ditch their sacred agriculture, readily picking up stock trading and monotheism their places..
Without knowing it the natives owed a personal debt to Nathan and his friends. All because of one simple explosion their civilization was advanced by a few millennia.
** ** **
Looking back and forth before him all he saw was seemingly endless fields of tall, strangely colored grass. He tried to tell himself to calm down, himself responded by saying that “Apparently you, Nathan that is, was not aware of the fact that they were being chased by a huge flying ball of taloned feathery death.”
Nathan responded rather snappily by commenting to himself that “He, Nathan, is, was and more than aware of the current threat level they were under and if himself could get himself together longer then a few seconds it would be nice to have some sort of calm composure to think things over and that perhaps now would be a good time for something quite like a cup of tea.”
Himself rather snarkily replied that “All that HE, himself that is, was trying to do was ‘Keep your ungrateful hide alive’ and that the best thing Nathan could do was ‘Shut your incessant amount of unnecessary chatter and to please dive forward now before you get our collective head removed by that beast.’”
Surprised that such a useful tidbit of information could ever truly come about from what was such an impractical conversation with himself, Nathan tripped over a rock and tumbled head first into what seemed to be a very poorly place for a clearing.
Landing head first and rolling over onto his back Nathan stared up in
what was just a rather odd mixture of defeat and simple terror. He knew that right now he was looking into deaths face. He was surprised death was an avian but that is simply not something you say to death when he is about to become intimately acquainted with your innards.
He was sure that this creature shouldn't have exist outside of a terrible Hollywood movie (which as far as analogies go, this is a rather poor one that in actuality says less then what it seems like it would in the given circumstances). Giving a sigh of despair that would no doubt make his mother proud, Nathan braced himself for the end.
Fourteen seconds had passed.
Closing his eyes he expected to hear a rather inevitably large crunching noise followed by whatever 'Yum yum' noises such a large beast would make after eating him.
Instead, however, Nathan was surprised to hear a familiar whooshing sound fly over his head and upon meeting the giant creature created a deafening boom which besides flinging him about ten feet away in another direction, provoked Nathan into taking a rather defensive stance, that is to say by curling up into a ball.
Content to remain in his defensive position he didn't budge until he felt a shoe push him over onto his back and heard a very family voice say "Come on hero, is that the best you can do on such a short notice?"
Chapter Two - The Proverbial Frying Pan
Paul Manning was used to having to think on his feet. Being only half as clever and smart as he often times happened to mistake himself as being, he often found himself in many situations that could be best politely described as suicidal, or when no social tact was needed and one could just be plain, absolute idiotic.
As surprising as this was to Paul, it had simply became an unfortunate way of life for both his insurance provider and his equally unfortunate traveling companion who, despite their disdain for his stupidity actually needed him for the few sporadically placed moments of time when he would manage to overcome his natural inclinations and be surprisingly useful.
** ** **
Case in point:
After the resulting explosion that flung them to what they had assumed were their deaths; Paul, Jermies and Jillian all woke to find themselves in a rather ornate stone room with what appeared to be a large circular device imbedded in the floor.
Jermies and Jillian initial, respective thoughts were:
"Amanda!"
And.
"Nathan!"
Paul’s initial thought was deep concern over his hair.
Which this was quickly followed by him yelling a rather loud rant about “No! Not another freaking portal on the floor!” Which this in turn was followed by a large amount of obscenities.
Before either Jermies or Jillian could get anything reasonable out of him, a rather large wave of ornately dressed, yet leathery equipped guards rushed the room and proceeded to arrest all of them with the utmost care, except for Paul whose unfortunate hair was further disturbed in the tussle that followed.
After being placed in a cell for a few hour, guards came and removed Jillian and all the while Paul had constantly berated the guards verbally and threatened to 'thrash them in ways that they had never dreamed of being thrashed.'
It is almost safe to assume that the reason the guard didn't immediately attempted to terminate Paul’s life then and there was that instead of feeling threatened by his threats they instead found immense pity for him.
In the very sad way that somehow still manage to prove Paul’s own usefulness, when he himself had no idea about it.
** ** **
"You will not get away this man! Do you have any idea of who you are messing with?"
"Give it a rest Paul."
"Dude! Cool it, I'm trying to get us out of here." Paul said from his vantage point in front of the cell door.
"Yelling isn't going to fix anything."
"You don't know that man, if I keep this up who knows what may happen."
"That is exactly my point incidentally. You have no clue what you are doing and if it will get us killed. Do you know if they even speak English?" Jermies said from the bench he had made his home.
“No, but as always you seem to absolutely be missing the point."
"Beyond the point? Beyond. The. Point? At what point does screaming at people in what would most likely be an alien tongue to them even seem like a remotely good idea?"
"Because I know what I'm doing kid, I've been doing this for years."
Seething from hearing his comments, Jermies had gotten off of his bench and walked up to Paul and poked him in the chest as he said each word. "For all you know you could have just called all of these guards "The Abomination of Absolute Filth and that there mothers are ale swilling illiterate prostitutes who wouldn't understand morality if you hit them in the head with a Judge's gavel!"
"Actually," Said a sudden voice from behind them, causing both Paul and Jermies to leap, "You had simply called them "The worse set of guards to have ever been born and that their mother would have been better off throwing them from a window then allowing the shame of them walking the world to stain it with their souls forever.
“Well, that was the gist of it least" He said this with a smile. A very cold and alarming smile.
"We aren't going to be close friends are we?" Jermies asked with a sigh.
"Oh we will become close friends...after all what does pain do but unite people?"
** ** **
Chapter 3 - The Proverbial Fire
"Amanda?"
"Guilty as charged. Going to stay curled up in a ball or do you feel like doing something productive for a change?"
"You are alive?"
"Quite possibly. Or I may just be an incredibly explosive part of your imagination. Either way don't you think it would be nice to get moving before you attract anymore avian life forms thinking you would make a nice lunch?"
"Point taken and concede."
Opening his eyes he saw her outstretched hand and took it, allowing
himself to be pulled up. Standing rather awkwardly on his feet he noticed that she looked rather tired and run down, at least for someone who happened to exist as pure spirit most of the time.
"Amanda, you look rather tired and run down. Are you alright?"
She stared at him with unblinking eyes. "I am assuming this is how you were able to charm so many women in your past life as a Spanish Conquistador?"
"Er, aside from what I take to be sarcasm, are you alright?"
She shook her head in a rather hopeless way before giving him a small smile she usually reserved for small children and mass genocide. "I'm well enough to run before we get attacked again. Are you fine?"
"I'm fine. No limbs missing so I'm good to go."
"Good. That way." She said pointing over his shoulder.
Turning around he was surprised to see what he had thought was an endless field of peculiar colored grass ended about a hundred or so yards north of them and instead was the beginnings of a dense forest.
"Good a direction as any." He said over his shoulder to her and they began to cross the land at a rather quick pace.
** ** **
Chapter 4 - Through the Proverbially Culinary Fire and Flame
The earth stands on the brink of destruction.
Climate change, global nuclear proliferation and the continued existence of reality
television have all long been predicted to bring about the death of all humanity. Indeed, the utter annihilation of all on the Earth but in the actual truth was much more sinister than what most could devise.
However, this truth had eluded so many for so long so that when it came none save a select few were prepared. Because of the very real human genetic disposition to ignore what was in front of them, humans had been oblivious to the true problem that had existed long before they began their lease on the planet they affectionately called Earth.
This blindness, self induced really, gave rise to many problems because humans did not come to live on what they considered to be their earth for the reasons it was most commonly believed.
Oh sure, there WAS a creation, they were in fact made in the image of a Higher
Being (whose name is being withheld due to legal reasons) and not what was the more common misconception of humans simply springing to existence out of thin air. But the common misunderstand that humans had was that they themselves were created on their watery blue planet. Instead, the true story is a bit more complicated then that. They came to be natives by a series of incidents that had long been forgotten by them.
Maltovus.
A name that mostly never spoken, partly out of fear and partly out of
uncertainty of how to actually pronounce the said name. But it was a name that drove many to madness when in fact it was spoken. Understanding this mysterious figure brings further depth to the knowing of not just earths history but why humans became denizens of what was otherwise an unremarkable planet, that in the grand scheme of things was nothing more than a dime a dozen.
Maltovus began life in the period of history before time itself was aware of its own existence. He was chief of the Guardians, a race of divine beings appointed the
task of governing the worlds, encouraging the growth of and the keeping of peace between the many sentient beings thruought creation.
Things were good for a while and then the unthinkable, yet realistically speaking the inevitable occurred: Maltovus began to question why exactly the Guardians must serve when they themselves were superior to their charges.
Like a plague this thought ripped through the ranks of The Guardians, infecting and beginning the long process of decay among those who had grown weary with their task.
War soon erupted in the heavens and rebellion sprung up among the planets. The fallen Guardians began to enslave and kill the beings they once had sworn to protect. Taking Maltovus as their sovereign Lord they called themselves The Mauro, that is The Darkness. Cast from the land of eternal light the Mauro quickly began to conquer the various worlds and attempt to eradicate all The Guardians who remained.
Billions upon billions of lives at a time were snuffed out in the battles. But
eventually, the light prevailed and struck a devastating blow against the seemingly invincible rebellion. Trapping Maltovus on a bluish green world The Guardians brought a race of people to the planet to help ensure that the evil would never be allowed to escape.
With the blessings of the Prime Mover, The Guardians sealed the world off from the rest of creation. But as with any great decision this came at a great price. Because of the gates sealing this world from the rest of creation the peoples perception of the spiritual and metaphysical waned and The Guardians soon became nothing more then the stories of fables. Eventually these people would grow to forget their origins and forget their greater task and concern themselves only for the pure task of survival and seeking comfort.
It should be duly noted that eventually these people named theirselves humans, or ‘The Earth Bound Ones’. Which evidently was such an obviously ironic gesture that it quite easily passed over their collective heads.
Years passed. On the Earth the people progressed in technology and excelled in their many endeavors such as farming, watch building and finding bigger and more efficient ways to kill larger and larger amounts of each other.
Despite the lack of tangible evidence it is believed that even though there was no possible way for him to communicate to those around him, the mere presence of Maltovus on the world was enough to cause a taint that ate at the hearts and souls of the people, twisting them into corruption.
Despite the growing evil a stronghold of evil goodness did indeed prevail. A small group, with antiquated knowledge of their past true origins, was still able to communicate with the Guardians and was able to bring about the old alliance, renewed and forged anew. With this they appointed themselves the protectors of the world and prepared for the great battle they knew was to come.
Eventually everything came to a head. Despite the earth being sealed off from the rest of creation, breaches began to occur. Mauro twisted by their personal evil and the eons of time they had spent dwelling in it, began to appear thruought the world.
No longer the elegant creatures of light they once were, fearful whispers began to spread of creatures that were darker than the nights in which they dwelled, they saw with fiendish golden eyes that pierced through all except the brightest of days and an endless appetite that fed off of the blood of all that they could find.
Eventually an underground war began to be waged between the Guardians and Mauro, both sides employing the humans to their own ends, proxies in a way that few really understood. The battles escalated up until a prophesied chosen one was found by the Guardians, a human born that would be able to extend his strength into the astral realm and fight the ever growing darkness.
His name was Nathan and he was an American University student who had only wanted to sleep another five minutes before he needed to leave for class, instead he managed to walk into an unexpected destiny and a war he could never have imagined existed.
An unlikely duo, a Guardian who went by the name of Amanda and a self stylized swordsman by the name of Paul Manning were both commissioned to find Nathan. Eventually the three met and teaming up with Nathan's friends Jillian and Jermies, they began a quest across the United States to find the location of Maltovus' Tomb and put an end to the threat.
After traversing many miles and facing many unimaginable horrors they arrived at the Tomb and to their horror Maltovus was released and thanked them for being such willing pawns of a plan they never could have foreseen. After Unleashing a wave of energy they destroyed the tomb and presumably the heroes.
Our story picks up upon their arrival to another time and another place…
** ** **
Chapter 1 - Newer Beginnings
Finding himself in another time and another place, Nathan looked up from the ground and was moderately surprised to not find himself dead. His immediate reaction was genuine surprise, which was followed by bewilderment which eventually tapered off to being a so so attitude of relief that was further aided by the fact he still had his trusty green backpack.
The first thing he tried to do was sit up and so far that worked out alright. The next idea he had had was to stand up but that didn't work out so well because he ended up face first on the ground again, with feeling as if his insides were turning to his outsides and vice versa.
Content to lie there face first; he noticed that the grass he was laying on was a funny color, but despite this new fact he took a deep breath. He felt the sun hitting his bare neck which caused a chill to run through his body. It was nice actually.
He took another deep breath and let out a content sigh, a pleasant sigh happy to simply lie in the sun. Unbeknownst to him a dark shadow quickly moved over him, passing so quick that his surreal moment of happiness was not interrupted. Instead he stretched his lanky frame outward and wrapped his fingers around the blades of grass.
It was perfect. Too perfect for a day in his life.
That was his first tip off that something was wrong.
The second clue he had that something was wrong involved the hellish screams of the creature beginning a dive bomb attack on him.
Daftly rolling out of the way Nathan felt the winged beast fly dangerously close to him, the presumably razor sharp claws brushing by so close he could hear the wind whistling in between them.
Crouching on his hands and knees he watched the feathery mass of claws and death swoop off and begin what was most likely going to be another aerial attempt at removing his head from his shoulder.
Dull as his sense were at times, Nathan was rather found of having his head on his shoulder, so he received the hint moderately well and took off running in the opposite direction.
Although he was facing what he was fairly certain would be his long coming yet untimely demise, Nathan was able to take a large sigh of relief. At first things DID seem too perfect with this day and really all this meant was that the world was back in balance and things were progressing the way they were supposed to be.
So when the rather large explosion that occurred approximately fifteen seconds later, saving his life, Nathan did not if he should be relived or worried.
The best he could come to was a mild compromise between the both and simply pass out.
** ** **
Explosions are a curious thing, no matter how one looks at them.
No matter if it is a child playing with a bottle rocket in their backyard or soldiers having an equally good time using military grade plastique explosives, the results are always the same: large craters and giggle of exhilaration.
So it should not come to the surprise of anyone that this particular explosion in question was indeed large, colorful and despite the original intentions of its creator interpreted by some local humanoid natives as being a sign from their gods that this years harvest was going to be a bountiful one and that they should feast and be merry.
It is unfortunate then for the natives that the supposed harvest never came and so after a very long year of frugal surviving, in less than ideal conditions, the villagers came to a rather unanimous decision to lynch their shamans and renounce their gods of wood and stone and ditch their sacred agriculture, readily picking up stock trading and monotheism their places..
Without knowing it the natives owed a personal debt to Nathan and his friends. All because of one simple explosion their civilization was advanced by a few millennia.
** ** **
Looking back and forth before him all he saw was seemingly endless fields of tall, strangely colored grass. He tried to tell himself to calm down, himself responded by saying that “Apparently you, Nathan that is, was not aware of the fact that they were being chased by a huge flying ball of taloned feathery death.”
Nathan responded rather snappily by commenting to himself that “He, Nathan, is, was and more than aware of the current threat level they were under and if himself could get himself together longer then a few seconds it would be nice to have some sort of calm composure to think things over and that perhaps now would be a good time for something quite like a cup of tea.”
Himself rather snarkily replied that “All that HE, himself that is, was trying to do was ‘Keep your ungrateful hide alive’ and that the best thing Nathan could do was ‘Shut your incessant amount of unnecessary chatter and to please dive forward now before you get our collective head removed by that beast.’”
Surprised that such a useful tidbit of information could ever truly come about from what was such an impractical conversation with himself, Nathan tripped over a rock and tumbled head first into what seemed to be a very poorly place for a clearing.
Landing head first and rolling over onto his back Nathan stared up in
what was just a rather odd mixture of defeat and simple terror. He knew that right now he was looking into deaths face. He was surprised death was an avian but that is simply not something you say to death when he is about to become intimately acquainted with your innards.
He was sure that this creature shouldn't have exist outside of a terrible Hollywood movie (which as far as analogies go, this is a rather poor one that in actuality says less then what it seems like it would in the given circumstances). Giving a sigh of despair that would no doubt make his mother proud, Nathan braced himself for the end.
Fourteen seconds had passed.
Closing his eyes he expected to hear a rather inevitably large crunching noise followed by whatever 'Yum yum' noises such a large beast would make after eating him.
Instead, however, Nathan was surprised to hear a familiar whooshing sound fly over his head and upon meeting the giant creature created a deafening boom which besides flinging him about ten feet away in another direction, provoked Nathan into taking a rather defensive stance, that is to say by curling up into a ball.
Content to remain in his defensive position he didn't budge until he felt a shoe push him over onto his back and heard a very family voice say "Come on hero, is that the best you can do on such a short notice?"
Chapter Two - The Proverbial Frying Pan
Paul Manning was used to having to think on his feet. Being only half as clever and smart as he often times happened to mistake himself as being, he often found himself in many situations that could be best politely described as suicidal, or when no social tact was needed and one could just be plain, absolute idiotic.
As surprising as this was to Paul, it had simply became an unfortunate way of life for both his insurance provider and his equally unfortunate traveling companion who, despite their disdain for his stupidity actually needed him for the few sporadically placed moments of time when he would manage to overcome his natural inclinations and be surprisingly useful.
** ** **
Case in point:
After the resulting explosion that flung them to what they had assumed were their deaths; Paul, Jermies and Jillian all woke to find themselves in a rather ornate stone room with what appeared to be a large circular device imbedded in the floor.
Jermies and Jillian initial, respective thoughts were:
"Amanda!"
And.
"Nathan!"
Paul’s initial thought was deep concern over his hair.
Which this was quickly followed by him yelling a rather loud rant about “No! Not another freaking portal on the floor!” Which this in turn was followed by a large amount of obscenities.
Before either Jermies or Jillian could get anything reasonable out of him, a rather large wave of ornately dressed, yet leathery equipped guards rushed the room and proceeded to arrest all of them with the utmost care, except for Paul whose unfortunate hair was further disturbed in the tussle that followed.
After being placed in a cell for a few hour, guards came and removed Jillian and all the while Paul had constantly berated the guards verbally and threatened to 'thrash them in ways that they had never dreamed of being thrashed.'
It is almost safe to assume that the reason the guard didn't immediately attempted to terminate Paul’s life then and there was that instead of feeling threatened by his threats they instead found immense pity for him.
In the very sad way that somehow still manage to prove Paul’s own usefulness, when he himself had no idea about it.
** ** **
"You will not get away this man! Do you have any idea of who you are messing with?"
"Give it a rest Paul."
"Dude! Cool it, I'm trying to get us out of here." Paul said from his vantage point in front of the cell door.
"Yelling isn't going to fix anything."
"You don't know that man, if I keep this up who knows what may happen."
"That is exactly my point incidentally. You have no clue what you are doing and if it will get us killed. Do you know if they even speak English?" Jermies said from the bench he had made his home.
“No, but as always you seem to absolutely be missing the point."
"Beyond the point? Beyond. The. Point? At what point does screaming at people in what would most likely be an alien tongue to them even seem like a remotely good idea?"
"Because I know what I'm doing kid, I've been doing this for years."
Seething from hearing his comments, Jermies had gotten off of his bench and walked up to Paul and poked him in the chest as he said each word. "For all you know you could have just called all of these guards "The Abomination of Absolute Filth and that there mothers are ale swilling illiterate prostitutes who wouldn't understand morality if you hit them in the head with a Judge's gavel!"
"Actually," Said a sudden voice from behind them, causing both Paul and Jermies to leap, "You had simply called them "The worse set of guards to have ever been born and that their mother would have been better off throwing them from a window then allowing the shame of them walking the world to stain it with their souls forever.
“Well, that was the gist of it least" He said this with a smile. A very cold and alarming smile.
"We aren't going to be close friends are we?" Jermies asked with a sigh.
"Oh we will become close friends...after all what does pain do but unite people?"
** ** **
Chapter 3 - The Proverbial Fire
"Amanda?"
"Guilty as charged. Going to stay curled up in a ball or do you feel like doing something productive for a change?"
"You are alive?"
"Quite possibly. Or I may just be an incredibly explosive part of your imagination. Either way don't you think it would be nice to get moving before you attract anymore avian life forms thinking you would make a nice lunch?"
"Point taken and concede."
Opening his eyes he saw her outstretched hand and took it, allowing
himself to be pulled up. Standing rather awkwardly on his feet he noticed that she looked rather tired and run down, at least for someone who happened to exist as pure spirit most of the time.
"Amanda, you look rather tired and run down. Are you alright?"
She stared at him with unblinking eyes. "I am assuming this is how you were able to charm so many women in your past life as a Spanish Conquistador?"
"Er, aside from what I take to be sarcasm, are you alright?"
She shook her head in a rather hopeless way before giving him a small smile she usually reserved for small children and mass genocide. "I'm well enough to run before we get attacked again. Are you fine?"
"I'm fine. No limbs missing so I'm good to go."
"Good. That way." She said pointing over his shoulder.
Turning around he was surprised to see what he had thought was an endless field of peculiar colored grass ended about a hundred or so yards north of them and instead was the beginnings of a dense forest.
"Good a direction as any." He said over his shoulder to her and they began to cross the land at a rather quick pace.
** ** **
Chapter 4 - Through the Proverbially Culinary Fire and Flame
Saturday, November 1, 2008
I guess some people just do not understand the concept of humans being fragile. Because of my lack of three failed marriages...I suppose I do not fully understand what it means to be taken and physically and verbally abused...but I do know after twenty-two years of dealing with the consequences of it all I just want to scream
"Fuck off and deal with your own problems! I hate all of you and I pray God kills you for all of the pain and the fear you have put in me!"
Instead, the gentle lamb tells me I am supposed to love unconditionally, like He loves me. That my hate, my fear and my anger do not bring about His love or His will.
When I take life into my own hands and begin to hate I begin to murder in my heart and people start to die to me. It may stop me from bleeding right now but it causes the calluses to grow deep like cancer and they will have to be ripped out later if I am to have any sort of love shared with others.
Please help me to bleed out this infection.
Tonight, today and every day in every way
that you let me be cut in
let me pour out this heart for you
and be transformed in only the way
that can be done by you.
The love that dies for another.
The love that cares for each other.
The sort of love you gave for me
on that dark day.
"Fuck off and deal with your own problems! I hate all of you and I pray God kills you for all of the pain and the fear you have put in me!"
Instead, the gentle lamb tells me I am supposed to love unconditionally, like He loves me. That my hate, my fear and my anger do not bring about His love or His will.
When I take life into my own hands and begin to hate I begin to murder in my heart and people start to die to me. It may stop me from bleeding right now but it causes the calluses to grow deep like cancer and they will have to be ripped out later if I am to have any sort of love shared with others.
Please help me to bleed out this infection.
Tonight, today and every day in every way
that you let me be cut in
let me pour out this heart for you
and be transformed in only the way
that can be done by you.
The love that dies for another.
The love that cares for each other.
The sort of love you gave for me
on that dark day.
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