SAN DIEGO COMIC CON! SAN DIEGO COMIC CON! SAN DIEGO COMIC CON! SAN DIEGO COMIC CON! SAN DIEGO COMIC CON!
heheheheheh. Today was a good day for fighting.
My friend got a brand new sword for her birthday-- European fantasy, rather sharp. I wanted to bring my brother's katana to fight her with, but none of my family approved, so I had to make do with my own broken boken. It's beautiful wood; it just got hit too hard and snapped right down the middle of the blade, so we took it to sidewalk hard and it
VAPORIZED.
It was hella tight, man. You shoulda seen.
ANYWAY. So here I am with half of what was left of a splintering katana, and I'm fighting against this heavy-arsed weapon that my friend got YESTERDAY, so she has some reasonable problems adapting. The handle's BARELY long enough for two hands, and the pommel gives your hands blisters if you're not used to them. The blade is also not QUITE seated in the handle, so it slips slightly, but not enough that it inebriates combat. Still, it's not much of a weapon.
ANYWAY.
So I've got a splintering half-katana and an entirely not sharp dagger that was meant as a display peice against this heavy as hell sword that is actually sharpened. Needless to say, my hand got diced up--my left one, to be precise. That's normal. My left hand always gets the worst of it in duels; it's the hand I use.
So I finally get a stance I like, and we get gloves for my hands so that I don't get TOO badly messed up, and then my finger(which was the first to get diced up) started bleeding pretty damn profusely. Which is an awesome word that gets no love.
heh. Profusely.
Anyway. So we go and we patch it up and I put the gloves back on and we spar some more, and I find the blood has soaked the cheap-arsed bandaid to the bone, and a wary strike blows the thing off. So we get a better bandaid and I put the gloves back on and we fight a lil more, and then I find the blood's seeped through the glove, so we stop.
Y'know, if I wasn't holding back so she could learn how to weild the thing, I won.
^^
Our Father, who 0wnz heaven, j00 r0ck!
May all 0ur base someday be belong to you!
May j00 pwn earth just like j00 0wnz0r heaven.
Give us this day our warez, mp3z, and pr0n through a phat pipe.
And cut us some slack when we act like n00b lamerz, just as we teach n00bz
when they act lame on us.
Please don't give us root access on some poor d00d'z box when we're too
pissed off to think about what's right and wrong, and if you could keep the
fbi off our backs, we'd appreciate it.
For j00 0wnz r00t on all our b0x3s 4ever and ever, 4m3n.
Batman Begins was amazing.
not many people remember this, but I entered a list of sexay men I wanted. Erik has proved his mettle and is now added.
I have an odd taste in men.
Sexay beasts:
Darth Vader (forever and always, the ultimate sexy)
Erik (the Phantom of the Opera)
Aoshi Shinomori
Makoto Shishio
Spike
Nicolas D. Wolfwood
Number 47
Sexay actors:
Christian Bale
Jean Reno
I had a tune.
and to this tune I wrote a song.
and it went a little like this:
I open my eyes, and the sun's still shining...
it makes me wonder why
I bother ever waking up to face tomorrow's problems
When today is hard enough
After all that I've been through
It's still a shame that you
Can never understand that it's not
personal..
After all...
The Highest bidder gets the prize
the lowest sinner gets the slip
And all those honest bastards
get whatever's left...
And I'm sorry you can't get that
beyond your rose tinted glasses
but it's true and you are not
above that law.
You always beleived that the world was genuinely good
that below that putrid veil
there's a heart of gold, a rod of justice, an all-compassing love
Well I'm sorry to break your precious little bubble...
But this world is not the beauty you have always seen it as
protected by a wall of glass
After all, what would you know? You've never been all on your own
You've never seen its ugliness...
After all...
The highest bidder gets the life
the lowest sinner gets the riches
and all those honest bastards
suffer all along...
And if I have to steal to make ends meet
and I kill to live for one more day
Would you tell me to my face
that I was wrong?
[guitar solo]
And if I am wrong, by whose standards?
Who is there who has the right
To judge my life and decide
what is right or wrong...
After all.....
The highest bidder pays the price
the lowest sinner gets the cuffs
and all those honest bastards
suffer all along....
And if I could tell you that I loved you
and that I wish that I could do
Then I'd run out of excuses
to write this song.
Because the sweetest song can make you blush
the saddest ballad make you cry
But every gunshot rings a note
that slowly plunks out the tune of life,
of sorrow, sadness, anger, madness,
melancholy and revenge,
and it continues to prove
all your theories wrong.
I call it Sinner. It's my first actual song.
Enjoy.
I had a dream last night.
The first part I cannot remember well; only that a man was shooting people in a line, and that the people were standing up to be shot; he would shoot them two right below the heart, and three in a perfect trinity in their forehead. He called for a girl, an innocent one, a young one, or he would shoot them all, and a demon girl in a scarlet dress heard it over the radio in her shacked up room. She hurried downstairs and made her way there, and he would have shot her if I had not already taken up the task.
Two right below the heart.
And three in a perfect trinity in the forehead
I woke up around 9, 10:30 and decided I was on vacation, so I was going to sleep in as long as I very well wanted to, and went back to sleep.
I was in my living room, a ghost, my body still standing where it had been shot; this was afterwards. I spoke to myself, "I'm dead. I haven't lived what I wanted to live. There was so much left for me to look at, to live through. I can never know those things now. My life has ended; I do not get a second chance." Then I saw my brother cleaning up the room, his head down. I called out to him. "Can you hear me? I'm here! I'm not alive, but I'm here!" He didn't respond. Moments passed, and I asked again, desperately, "Can you hear me?"
He looked up and a long time passed before he spoke. "Yes, I can hear you." He spoke it quietly and went back to his work. "I can see you, too."
That gave me the slightest glimmer of hope and releif. "I'm dead! I'm going to go somewhere...I don't know where. Heaven, or Hell...I deserve Hell. That's where I am going. That's where I should go."
He looked up again and laughed. "Don't you realize? None of this is plausible! None of this has happened!"
"Why not?" A larger hope built in my heart, and I wished desperately that he was right.
He smiled. "Because I was shot before you were!"
"YOU WERE?!"
"Yes!"
We went together to the crossing roads; they were roads of stone, no more than blocks of blue stone that lead from one place to the other, and floating in nothingness, supported by one tall pillar in the middle beneath it of the same stone that passed also above the stone. Two men stood there; one man was potbellied and was dressed like an english gentleman, his suspenders showing and his top hat on his head. The other man was similar. They were two men, standing apart, but one and the same, standing as one.
He spoke to my brother first. "You who are blessed and free of men, you will go to heaven."
I sensed something was wrong. "And I?" I cried.
He turned to me. "You I do not know," the Judge said, "You are cursed, and have denied and slandered your God. You will go to Hell."
"I have not!" I cried again. "Jesus knows me!" I lied. I don't know why I lied, but it was apparent, because my eye slowly moved to close as I said it, but opened.
The Judge looked closer at me. "I can tell through lies. Tell me again why you should not go to Hell."
"Jesus knows me! I am His!" I winced again, although I don't know why, as I was speaking the truth, but it was so that I lied.
The Judge looked closer still. "Tell me, why should you not go to Hell?"
I was crying, desperate, fearful. "The God of all knows me! He loves me! I am His!" I looked down at my feet, miserable, and I understood not why it seemed I was lying.
My brother spoke. "She does! She has followed Him as long as I have known Him!"
He stared at me. "Very well. You shall go to heaven."
I walked the stony path to Heaven, reaching for my brother, who came back along the path for me, but the stone cracked before me and fell, allowing me not to pass. I cried out.
"No!" My brother cried. "Come!"
"I cannot!" I replied, my heart heavy and desperate. "It is too wide to cross!"
My brother stretched across the gap, holding my hand and taking me across, and again the bridge snapped before me and after my brother. I cried out again in fear.
My brother cried in agony. "I cannot help you! Cross!"
I fell to my knees and wept in fear and sorrow. The bridge suddenly began to come together again, stitching itself and sliding back into place as if it had never parted. I opened my eyes in wonder and called, "Look! It's pulling together!" I only knew that it was God's work; the other break I could see was held together by tape placed by my brother's hand, and it was by that that I crossed.
My brother once again reached for my hand, and I stepped over, and together we walked into Paradise.
I was nervous, and though I was out from Hell, I was still on edge, for it was not by my doings that I had made it here. It seemed not to be Heaven, but the entrance to it, and I hooked my arm in my brother's and we walked to the ticket booth. The gate was in the form of a circus; there was a monorail with seven rails and seven cars, one car to each rail, and they sped from there through the jungles to God. My brother ordered two tickets, one for each of us. The ticketer looked at me curiously. "You, who are not to be here! Why are you here?" I replied, "I was saved by the grace of my brother." I was let to take my ticket, but under wary eyes, and I entered to the gate. We walked for a while, and came to the monorail. I said in delight, "I hope it isn't slow. Ah! It isn't at all!" I watched the cars speed up and down the mountain. My brother turned to me. "Why did you think it was?"
"Well," I replied, "I don't like slow monorails."
There was a short man, a dwarf dressed as a circus leader taking people's tickets and ushering them inside the monorail cars. He took my brothers, but asked me, "You aren't supposed to be here. Why have you come?" And I replied, again, "My brother saved me from Hell, so I am here." He accepted my ticket, and we were ushered into a red car, tilted from the rail. It seemed that my dream had made it so that I controlled myself like I would a computer game, so I had problems sitting down and looking through the window. The dwarf came in and told us that he would be there if we needed anything, and that he was taking us to see the Almighty One, and that you had to be prepared. Someone asked something, and the dwarf replied with a sly remark, and the trip began. We made our way into the jungle, and quickly, the metal rails were replaced with vines and branches. We jumped from vine to branch to log to vine, forever climbing up, up, up the hilly mountain jungle, and all the cars merged together as one. We reached the top and were made to climb the rest of the way through the mud and vines, and stood at the top of the mountain, standing on a dirt road leading to a farmhouse without a roof with a fancy iron gate. Animals walked through the entire thing; donkeys and horses grazed where they wished, and chickens ran rampant. Maids tended to the cows and the livestock; sheep bleated. I wondered for a moment who was hired to play God in this little play we were taken through, but only for a moment, as we were given bags and told to pick up whatever we found. I scooped up an old tape with a label on it, and I could not read it because it was too blurry, but I felt that it was something by John Lennon or Sting. I left it in the bag. A young blonde girl asked an old man with a grey beard, "Where did you find that?" The old man replied with a voice younger than he, "At a restaurant, I beleive." I looked around and there were small things like packets of salt and sugar and peices of tissue that would be found at any fast food restaurant.
We walked into the gates, lead by the dwarf, and lined up again to be judged. God was setting doves into a small compartment, and was wearing only jeans; his back and feet and hands and face were dirty from honest work. He turned to us. He cried out the name of my brother in joy and reckognition. "I was wondering when you would come! Welcome!" He turned to me. "But you!" He said in surprise. "Why the heck aren't you in Hell?"
I replied with all the honesty and humbleness in me, "My brother's love saved me."
He looked at me for a long time. "Very well," He said. "Welcome."
We were allowed to wander, and the King continued to put the doves gently in their compartments, always tending to them to make sure they were safe. I was swept up and watched a thousand houses pass; each one formed just so for every person in the world. I smiled and laughed, watching for mine, and heard God say, "There is a home for you here! I have made it with my own hands, just for you! There is a place in My Household for you to stay!" I watched them go by and waited for mine, watching the humble homes with the beautiful gardens, the castles, the cottages with the spiderwebs amongst the gardens, and waited for mine, and there was a castle in Africa that was swept up and dove into the ocean, coming up to heaven and set for me. I remembered that I wished that I had my things with me, but then I remembered that all material things on Earth were not counted in Heaven, so that the rich men would have the hardest time getting in because of his dependency on his material riches and belongings.
And I woke up and read the bible and prayed for several hours before I wrote this down. I realize now that my brother was Jesus. I'm not at all sure what exactly it means, but it's been tearing me up since I got up, and all I can do is eat and read the Bible, but I always feel to do something else, but when I do, I am spurred towards the bible, but I don't want to read any more; I want to do other things. I prayed for release from this grasp, but was not granted, and so I wrote my dream down.
I don't know fully what it means, but it told me to reconsider my life and my relationship with the only one who matters. And I know that the dream is not one of my own, because there was nothing yesterday that would spur me to such a dream.
It is Godsent.
Nothing really important to say. but no one's on to entertain with, so I'll just write things. for some reason, I find reporting news in my life to be tedious and annoying and I don't like doing it.
Fiction starting now.
This is the last time I can contact you. The guards say my execution isn't far, but I hope it isn't true, mostly for your sake. I'm fully prepared to die; I've served my god all my life, and I can take comfort that I have a place in the sunless lands I may be able to call my own. But it will be very hard on you, and your soul, and it already is. I can see that through my cell window.
I don't know how much longer I can stand this. It's never quiet at night; someone's always screaming, and the lad in the next cell is constantly hitting his head against the wall, and BANGING and BANGING and BANGING.
Yeah, you heard me.
It's my birthday today. And everyone's happy for me. Problem is that everyone ELSE'S BIRTHDAY IS TODAY TOO. So they're ecstatic for them.
Okay. fine. Screw you all then. Not like I need any congratulation
Just don't bother knowing me and go on with living. I ain't being bitter. Okay, I am being bitter, but not about the aspect of leaving me to entertain myself instead of burdening me with the problem of knowing/caring about you. I'd rather be myself and not worry about making myself into someone you'd like being with.
I have decided(like you care) that I will learn american comicking if it kills me in the process, and to shun all but a few traits of anime.
Yes, anime is wonderful in its own right, but american comics are just so WONDERFUL in all respects. Don't beleive me? Look at Sandman.
And I would like to say that I detest the mass butchering of the Marvel characters on the big screen. ugh.
Oh, and I have to mention that I don't really like drawing anime anyway--it's too....drainin
Anyway. The reason I beleive that American comics are, um, superior to Japanese is because of the immense amount of detail that is in american comics--the face, the background, the anatomy, the costume. It's a STANDARD. Also, the characters are more beleivable, and the stretch of non-beleif is less than in a Japanese comic.
Idunno...anime pretty bois are worth it, but I think I like american comic handsome bastards better---at least they've got some sort of muscle! poor bishies. all skin and bone. XD Sorry--I go for more manly men. muhah.
anyway. so that's my two cents. ^_^
If you ever make the upgrade from girlfriend 4.0 to wife 1.0 remember this. You cannot run mistress 1.0 in the background. Eventually wife 1.0 will locate the offending program and cause a total system failure. The end result is you will have to spend all your money and lose not only the system but all programs involved.
I can't....oy. Christianity's the hardest thing I've come across. really.
to be a Christian is to be shunned by society; to be uncool. to be laughed at, scorned....for my path in life. yet...
Goodness. there are so many bad eggs...why do they choose to pay attention to those? and not the few and decents?
Being a Christian means giving up everything. EVERYTHING. our little habits, some of our hobbies, some of the people we choose to associate ourselves with....our egos, sometimes....a
..the saviour of the world was it's shame.
odd. Goodness, the human race is so confusing.
....
I hate being 13.
okay, this is just creepy.
I was twirling a chain made of key rings, and my decapitated horse head was on the desk, and apparently the chain hit its muzzle because it all of a sudden was attached to the end by the mouth.
It's like it bit it. It's really creepy, cuz the mouth is right on the metal. Apparently, the muzzle's magnetic, but it's still really creepy.
Egads, today was fun!
I played Mad Geneticist with some of my really old toy horses, and now I have two unicorns, an adult and colt pegasus, and a colt with a metal spike for a hoof. The last one was in desperate need of its hoof glued on, but I couldn't find it, so I just made a new one for it. Only it's a spike.
God, I love my life.
Now I have a troupe of freaks, and I intend to pen them underneath my bed and show them to people for 25 cents.
Mwahahahaha.
For I am the Mad Geneticist.
I also have this horse neck/head that's as big as my palm. It reminds me of the Godfather.
I kid thee not. Someone actually gave that to me once.
I am surprised.
I am thoroughly surprised.
I thought Timeline was going to be a bad movie, but oho, no such luck! Bad luck, that is. And lo, I say-eth, wow. Didn't see that coming at ALL.
Although you could tell the budget was low. At one point, they are hiding behind a wall and you can tell it's spraypainted.
*sigh* what it lacks in prop budget, it makes up in wonderful plotline and stuff. I am happy with that movie. :D
Wow.
Username: [Pnelma Tirian]
Character name: Jeshaak Moretalon
Gender: female
Race:Gryphon
Age: 45(about 20.)
Physical description: Jeshaak, or Jesh, as she's called by her friends, is a VERY small gryphon. She's a peregrin-marga
She's sleek, fast, and exceedingly flexible.
Personality: A lot like an otter. She seems a little odd when you meet her, and her oddness only grows when you get to know her, but she'll share a drink with you anyday and get into a bar fight even sooner. She loves a good fight, anytime, anywhere.
Preferred weapons: Talons, beak, claws, and anything around her that can be used in a fight.
Powers: Stun, enchantment, fire--mostly just the small stuff to distract her opponent until she gets behind them and beheads them. :)
from a symbol that wore
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DESTRUCTION,DE
DECEIT,MURDER,
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to a figure symbolizing
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FAITH,KINDNESS
COMPASSION,DEV
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in three days flat.
I want to kill vampires.
I want to kill and kill and kill until every vampire is permanently dead and in hell for eternity.
I really, really really really really really really really really REALLY hate vampires.
Two and Two is four.
Four and four is eight.
Eight and four is twelve.
There are twelve inches in a ruler.
Queen Mary was a ruler.
Queen Mary was a ship.
Ships sail the sea.
There are fishes in the sea.
Fishes have fins.
The Finns fought the Russians.
Russians are red.
Fire engines are always rush'n.
Therefore fire engines are red.