Some of the more amusing things people put in their bio, as well as some really poignant ones:

A white man yells to a black man. "Hey colored boy! You're blockin my view."
The black man turned around and stood up. He then said:
"When I was born I was black,"
"When I grew up I was black,"
"When I'm sick I'm black,"
"When I go in the sun I'm black,"
"When I'm cold I'm black,"
"When I die I'll be black"
"But you sir..."
"When you're born you're pink,"
"When you grow up you're white,"
"When you're sick, you're green,"
"When you go in the sun you turn red,"
"When you're cold you turn blue,"
"And when you die you turn purple."
"And you have the nerve to call me colored?"

This one was inspired by AC/DC's "The Jack" as it was being played on 105.7 the X this afternoon. Go figure. XD I dunno, I just had a sudden desire to write something that was more of an allusion to Texas Hold 'Em than a direct implication, like in the song. Anyway, here 'tis:

On the Bluffs over Texas
Inspired by “The Jack” by AC/DC

We were two of a kind, the three, no four, no two of us, kind
Four I had just come off a girl who loved like spades, mean as my blind old auntie.
So I joined the club, recovering from her rough hand.
This one, though, and me, drove to an orchard, on a bluff o’erlooking the town and river,
Its banks turned white by the lace of the queen.
I gave her a diamond; she gave me her heart.
She wanted kids (I wasn’t sure, myself)—two girls, three boys; or the other way ‘round.
Either way, it’d be a full house, the hand
Full of us.
So she saw in the tree two pears, sitting pretty on their perch.
Hand over hand, I got those pears, and came down with a pear in each pocket.
Back up we went from the picnic quilt we had
Folded and packed, and our soup in the pot.
We took our two pears to the boughs of the tree, but she eight hers higher than me.
On the subject of love, she flushed bright red.
I held her hand but didn’t look; she wanted that full house, and I wanted to give it to her.
I think we got things straight, though, and before long,
We drove home, the pair of us, two of a kind.

Doesn't it suck when the person you really want to get to know better is very obviously avoiding you?

Whew... it was a while ago, but let's just say... another bullet dodged.

Quote from John ("Dywn"): "So, would you let me play as a multiclass warlock/monk who flies around, blasts people with his eldritch blast, and then pummels them with his fists? ... Name? Vegeta." LOL Dragonball sucks, but it was an amusing quote at one D&D session ^^

... Ware wa... niwa jin dewanai... Ware wa omoitachi no kami desu!

Whew... it's been exactly two months since my last post in this diary. I've started college and all, and find it just as dreafully boring as high school. The curriculum here apparently assumes that all incoming students have led utterly sedentary and socially-lacking lives up until this point and feels the need to teach us things we *should* already know. These would be things like how to talk, how to write, and how to read. Sorry if I sound a bit pompous, but didn't we all learn how to read starting at about age 5? And those of us in "wholesome" families, perhaps earlier? And writing naturally came only about a year behind that, and speaking! By the gods, I learned to speak before I could even form complex thoughts! As did we all, I sincerely hope. Unless you were raised by wolves and recently returned to civilization, that's probably the case.

In any event, I'm having less fun than I hoped and have more free time than I know what to do with. But I'm making progress. I've put the finishing touches on my novel, "Rose Prophecy" and am awaiting only a few proofreading sessions from various family members before I package it up and send it off to publishers, hoping I can get a foot in the proverbial door. But let me tell you, publishers really don't make it easy. All the big ones have the policy, "Don't come to us. We'll come to you," and in a few cases they accept manuscripts from agents, but never from the author. After spending many hours searching the Internet, I found two corporate publishers with adequate information about themselves on their website, as well as an invitation to prospecting authors. A whole two. And this isn't counting the vanity/subsidy publshers and print-on-demand publishers. I need something that doesn't cost money, because that's something I don't really have. I don't mean to make big bucks with my first submission, but if I do, yay for me.

In any case, I'm gonna see where these publishers take me. I hope one of them accepts my manuscript, though the one of them seems to be the type to say, "We'll publish your work as long as you have at least hal a brain." So, I hope I can say to look for my works on shelves soon. Wish me luck, hm?

So I've found this little twit on here who thinks that I'm too stupid to realize a film-ripped image when I see one. I'm busy warning him about it, but he insists that it took him one and a half years to TRACE an image from Cowboy Bebop and post it online. At 14 years of age, nobody has that patience anyway. But this picture, it's just a screenshot from one of the episodes. The little snot didn't even remove the DVD rip artifacts from it; you can see the screen cutoffs! I'm insulted. *fumes at stupid people*

Character reactions:

When faced with a dragon...

Elliaryn: "My soul, come to my call and defend me from this foe!"

NightHawk: "... Rose..."

Kelart: "When a foe is of a size/ that his chest just meets my eyes,/then I believe 'twould be most wise/ to turn around and run away,/ and, as it seems they always say,/ live to fight another day."

Jynx: "Kelart, stop complaining and blast it with your lyre."

When meeting an attractive member of the opposite sex...

Elliaryn: "Greetings, my lady."

NightHawk: "..."

Kelart: "Bathe my soul and light my eyes,/ woe, the legends, they tell but lies/ of thy beauty, O divine!/ I would that thou be one day mine!"

Jynx: "... Kelart, get away from her."

Calculate "t" and find whether vectors g and h are parallel with the equations "g: (x|y|z)= (1|2|3)+ t(0|2|1); h: (x|y|z)= (1|0|2)+ t(1|0|5)".

Elliaryn: "..."

NightHawk: "..."

Kelart: "..."

Jynx: "..."

Kelart (again): "..."

Kelart (yet again): "... ... When a foe is of a size..."

Jynx (again): "Kelart... ... nevermind."

Cures: Headache and stuffy nose
Possible side effects: Headache, stuffy nose, nose bleeding, hemophilia, baldness, blisters, death, brain damage, loss of limbs, rashes, acne, and diarrhea.

For those of you wishing you could see a softer, more serious, and more human side of your good buddy NightHawk, well, this is your jackpot... *sigh* This is another one of my incresingly frequent emotion dumps, so those of you who hopefully don't care, just read over this.
I don't like to do this, as I'm one of those people who almost always has control over his emotions. In fact, almost 98% of the time you'll find me in good spirits. But all that changed when I came on exchange to Switzerland. We were warned beforehand that such an undertaking would be a rollercoaster ride of emotions, but as I've never even been on such a ride before, I wasn't and still am not prepared to face hill after hill. I'm riding one of those rickety, wooden ones, too, so the car bumps and wobbles, and my knee keeps slamming into the side whenever it turns.
Like today was another downhill rush. I don't really feel like getting into the nitty-gritty of it, but I'll probably end up doing so anyway. I had to go to this meeting, and basically, it ended up that I'm a lazy bum who spends too much time doing solitary activities involving English, rather than hanging out with my incredibly loud and sometimes outright obnoxious host family and speaking German, talking about unexciting stuff like the latest law upon which all Swiss peopl recently voted that states that all sidewalks must be kept clean of rubble. Okay, so I exaggerate, but it's basically like that. This old asshole stood up I front of the entire club and told everyone that I'm the aforementioned bum and need a kick to the butt to get me going. That wasn't thrilling.
Then my host father turned all of a sudden into a school-Nazi, saying that the 42 hours I spend every week in a school building simply aren't enough. I need 48 hours of school in order to experience Switzerland's culture. Honestly, if all Swiss culture revolves this way around school, then count me out and get me on the next flight back to King Bushland. America might be filled with people who need to have their heads stuffed into blenders, but at least I wouldn't have to put up with all this instability which is foreign to me. And the school. 42 hours is 7 more hours per week than I spent in class in America.
So, as I usually do whenever I reach the top of the next hill and begin the earthward plummet to the ground (hey, this safety bar is rather loose...), I begun to look at all the other things about myself that bother me. Namely my social inactivity. And my poor skills at building decent relationships with the right people. Namely women/ladies/whatever you want to call the female half of the human race (I've had too many people get pissed when I say "girl" or "woman" that I'm probably going to stop trying and just be a hermit for the rest of my life. Or just a bachelor. A very rich bachelor, and I'll lord it over you all!!!)
So while I'm rushing downward, feeling an acidic wind ripping the skin off my face and hands clenched to the safety bar of this old coaster (my face, however, is NOT wrapped around the bar... though it might as well be. Eh, take it as you will), I'm getting this glorious reminder of everything about myself that annoys myself. But I don't know how to fix these problems. I know myself better than anyone. But I don't know other people well. Sometimes when I meet someone, of either sex, interested in simple friendship, things go well. Other times I realize from the beginning that it's a lost cause.
To put things bluntly, I have to admit that I've gone almost all my life without someone actually caring for me in a way more than just the way friends do (you see, I'll never directly admit to being lonely, I'm STILL beating around the gods-bedamned bush... I think I just contradicted myself...). I've had two "relationships" that I can remember that lasted for more than three days, and neither of them lasted more than two weeks. Believe you me, whatever twisted man who is the matchmaker of this world put me at the bottom of the list. Maybe because he does it alphabetically?
What's worse, I'm terribly afraid to actually go to someone whom I've known for a time and for whom I have feeling for and actually say something to the effect of, "I love you." That is the one phrase that I have NEVER, ever in my entire life said, not to anybody. Don't even bother to ask if there are ANY exceptions. It's such a binding phrase, one that should have more meaning to it than it really does today. I suppose that's rather old-fashioned of me, but I've always felt that love should be the one thing with which one never plays. But along with that feeling comes a fear of actually using it, in case it turns out that I must break such a bond, or have that bond broken upon me. Like over the head with a 2x4.
*chuckle* I think I can hear the groans of many of my female readers at suffering such an encounter with such a weak-kneed young man. Let me know if I'm wrong, because I often am, despite my claims of sentience and intelligence.
Well... I'm looking at the time and thinking of everything else I have to do tonight (nothing), and wondering how long I can go on without bursting a vein or something. For some reason I feel better already, though I'll probably feel stupid later when some really strange (female) person reads this and writes to me, "dont wrry ill be ur tru luv its wut uv ben lookin 4 rite? ~hottstuf" (if this is your actual screenname, don't write to me and complain. It's a random name I just made up. Though if you do complain anyway, I just might find a use for you as a MEAT HOOK TESTER. Copy?)
Then again, such a psychological shock just might be what it takes to bring back the good old, practical NightHawk before I start kicking some ass again. But until I find a way to let out these feelings (remember, I'd NEVER admit to these...), I think I'll just be a whiney, depressed brat.

NightHawk Falconis

"... Rose shall cry."