Love

So if, hypothetically, I could fall in love, which is very very doubtful, I think it has happened. Because I laugh when I cry and every time I talk to him I am left with this feeling that goes through the entirety of myself. Butterflies...maybe. The fact that he even thinks about me makes me feel like a million bucks. But nobody seems to understand. My parents least of all. And I know mom LOVES to read these....thanks. Leave me alone, I'm in pain from my face....my great big face! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!

Shakespeare

It has been far too long since I've read a Shakespeare play.

RANT (Ahh)

I am so sick of shallow people. I think it may just be that I'm in an all-girls dorm in an almost-all girls school and there's so much estrogen that everybody's decided to get bitchy. I'm so sick of the girly-girls, although I'm more sick of the ones that rate the others on campus. They generally start with the women. Rating them, their personalities, clothes, hair, the way they walk talk flirt and belch. I hate it. But it's not just that they rate the girls. They move on...they rate the men too until there's nothing left but the skeleton.
The bones of who someone is. Bones tell no tales...they all look the same, for the most part. You can make tools out of bone and spear things.

We're adults now. This isn't high school. I didn't expect this from here. I thought that because I was going to a school that was "known for it's academic excellence" that I would be surrounded by other intellectuals looking to quench a thirst for thought. I assumed that because it was expensive, yet very good with scholarships, that most people would have earned their way in. I thought that I would be challenged and inspired everyday. I thought that it would mean my mind would be stretched to new levels, my imagination taking new strides and I thought I would find myself in the best place I could be.

I searched everywhere. There is no such place. I am the only one. I'm the only one who likes being a nerd. I'm the only one.

Maybe I'm just the only freshman like that. I've talked to some upperclassmen and they're not so bad. They're all off campus though. I need to figure out how to make friends off campus. I need to find a job off campus. That's the only way. Getting off campus as much as possible. Bleh. But I'm glad. I don't like people. I don't like people who say one thing and do another. I don't like people who act all nice and then turn out to be bitchy. Likewise, I don't like mean people who use their meanness as a defense mechanism. Be what you are!

I don't like people who act like they like you, then act like they don't give a rats. I don't like people who say they want to keep in touch but don't exchange emails. I don't like people who see things only their way, and not the way of everyone. I think it has to do with the money here. I think it has to do with everything. Should I stay or should I go now?

Whenever shall we meet again

Whenever shall we meet again,
In thunder lightening or in rain
When the hurly-burly's done
When the battles lost or won.

The hurly burly is just beginning. I think. There hasn't been much hurly or burly in Minnesota, but we'll see what happens this winter. People think it is the apocalypse.
I thought on this a good long time. End of the world. That's kind of a bummer. It's so easy to get caught up in the who-is-the-antichrist-this-is-the-sign kind of people. So I was thinking...yes, of course it is the apocalypse! Then I was thinking...no...it won't be that obvious. And now...
I think...I'm going to participate. Not anticipate. That way, I won't be let down in the end if the world isn't ending, and if it is, well, we'll just see what happens. And we'll all meet again in the end. Whether it be the abrahamic apocalypse or Ragnarok or ... hmnn...
Those are the only apocalypse stories I'm familiar with.
I had this obsession with Norse mythology for a while. It's so interesting. I'm actually really intrigued with religions of different sorts.


And as for me...what about me, anyway? Heavy sigh. I don't know anymore. Sometimes I work so hard at something I begin to hate it a little. So I give myself breaks.
And then I hate it that I gave myself a break. Like this weekend. I slept. I lazed. I watched some TV. I allowed my mind to wander. I rolled down the ol' hill. I chased a few squirrels. Good times.
But I didn't study. I didn't even sing. And now...I'm a little overwhelmed again. Why did I not use my time more wisely? The squirrels, well, yes they're obnoxious. I hate how they just waddle around eating bits of cupcakes and stuff, getting much fatter than they should be. I suppose they need it for winter. It's fun to see them try to waddle up the tree though. They get about three feet up and then come back down. I saw a flying squirrel the other day. It was the highlight of my week.

It's November already. I miss everything about home. Yet, I'm beginning to really love it here. It isn't the people. I've managed to make enough friends to keep me sane but not enough to take up my time. Oh dear, this means I have to start another rant.

Toil and Trouble

The HIV AIDS epidemic. That is the theme this week at Concordia College in Moorhead, MN. It is for awareness. Which is terrific, yet leaves me in some unrest and uproar. The mosquitoes were horrendous today, and the heat was awful. I estimate that I only understood about 85% of what she was saying because of this. She is the former prime minister of Norway and former director of the World Health Organization. She seemed to be a good speaker and a strong woman. But she brought up an issue of some anger for me. She spoke on many things. Very eye-opening statistics. And with some (what I interpreted to be) subtle anger she did say that the living standards in this country have increased 40% while the living standards in Africa have decreased 20% since 1980. I agree that this is wrong. She did continue to rather mention Pope John Paul, and the Church's opposition to condoms. She seemed rather anti-catholic...this way, and I can understand her frustration from a noncatholic perspective. But nobody sees it from a catholic one.
In my mind, as a catholic, sex is a gift from God to do two things: to show the ultimate physical love for one other person, and to concieve a child. But it must be for both of those things. How can she say that the Catholic Church is wrong in not handing-out condoms. She says that the Catholic Church has "prohibited" the use of condoms. But the Catholic Church has no authority to prohibit anything. Not everyone is Catholic. Therefore not everyone has to listen to the Catholic Church. Yet she seemed to be blaming the late Pope John Paul for the AIDS problem when, from my perspective, it isn't his fault. It is nobody's fault. The Catholic Church holds no legal authority. The Catholic Church will not put you to death if you use a condom, or if you have premarital sex, or if you have AIDS. In fact, the Church will not judge at all. True Catholics reserve that right for the Lord, and no other.

I will not attempt to further defend the Catholic Church. But I will say this: the media has never liked us, and people so blindly believe the media, even very intelligent and wonderful people. I've been a Catholic all my life and I grew up being taught that the use of a condom isn't a sin.

And also, for all the people who talk, for all the people who say things about the AIDS problem and place the blame on one group or another, they're still just talking.

We'll see who does the work in the end. We'll see. Perhaps it will be me.

When the Hurly-burly's done,

when the hurly-burly's done, eh? Well...that'll be in about 4 years when I graduate from COLLEGE! WOOT! I am so glad to be free of my parents, living independently, learning about how I am to get going. So many people here to watch, so many people for which "fair is foul" actually applies. I will have to name them other things, though because I don't wish to offend them. Since Shakespeare wrote the Taming of the Shrew AND Macbeth, we'll just call one of my new "friends" the shrew. Because she is EXACTLY like the shrew. So Shrew is all kind of punked, wild and goth. She loves her peircings and tattoos. She likes to offend people sometimes. Or, at least, not go out of her way to be extremely respect full. Like the Shrew, I think she will end up meeting a Petrucio of sorts, and she will, hopefully end up slightly more tamed.
I like her wild freeness though. In many ways, she is the anti-kristen. She is kind of a downer, I'm very much an up-er. She's definately not self-concious. I am. She's a whole lot wilder, not at all spiritual, and not at all loving. I don't fault her for any of it except not being loving. That is going to be her end. I think. Her "fatal flaw". She is definately the hero of her story. She isn't malevolent, at least not outwardly. She is sincere...giving...inviting...sweet, even sensitive...but I have yet to see that she is loving. I hope that someone will bring her love, and I especially hope that someone will bring her into the light of Christ. That would be most wonderful. Sigh. However, I must be going now, for I must get me to my studies.

One Quick Word

I know that nobody ever checks blogs regularly, but if you happen to check this one regularly, I am noting to you that I'm hoping only to post once or twice a week from here on out...for a very long time.

Fair is foul. Foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.

Modeste Moussorgsky

Pictures at an Exhibition
Night on Bald Mountain

Dvorak

Liszt

Ravel: Rapsodie Espagnole

Stravinsky

Beethoven Piano Concerto 4-5

By Robert Nelville

The Suffering of Africa is our Shame
The first of these news posts will be about Africa. Now, this is already a strange thing in itself. Unlike Bob Geldof who is currently claiming on BBC World that Africa is the best place on Earth ("yeah, my continent is better than yours !"), I have no, and never had any, attraction for Africa and African culture whatsoever. On the other hand, I have always been a great admirer of South-American ancient civilizations (the Inca, the Maya, the Aztec) and the Japanese past and present history, these are cultures I'm fascinated about. Africa is, for me, just a wonderful place for animals and a terrible place for humans with what seems a never-ending source of pain for those poor people.Lately, if my focus on the matter of civilization hasn't changed, recent events have drawn my attention again to the suffering of these people and have literally infuriated me against the indifference our world has shown. It is going to be difficult to put in words all the anger I feel towards the people who rule us and also towards some of our fellow men, but let's try. "As usual" I'd be tempted to say, many tragedies have been happening in Africa, but two mostly have been grabbing our attention lately: the excruciating genocide in Sudan and the famine in Niger.Not so long ago, there's been this Live8 concert. I didn't watch, I couldn't care less about the people there and modern music in general. Still, it sounded like a generous idea, to put an end to poverty, perhaps to try to cut the long-time running circle of pain. But when you compare this to what's happening in Africa right now, genocide and famine, you can't help thinking the whole thing is just a damn joke. Not only do you have to bring entertainment and people they cherish, the "stars", to the crowd to draw their attention and sympathy, but seemingly this cause only interests them the time the concert lasts. Moreover, the idea in itself I think is leading nowhere, it's a "let's have a party to save the world" event, it's just a fleeting moment.What's killing Africa right now is rock-solid and is definitely not a "fleeting moment", that's what is horrendous about it. It's been happening for so long that it could have been well prevented, but not only did we fail to prevent it, but we, the people who can, the people with the money, the people who waste so much everyday, we did not even try to prevent it. The massacres of the Darfur region, in Sudan, are taking place since February 2003 ! Everyday children, women and men are killed and their cry for help has remained unanswered, no one in the world stood up for them. They've been moved from their land, they've lost their home and they now have to live in the worst misery with in their mind, in their body the horror of it all, murders, rapes, and the totalThis, ladies and gentlemen, is our beautiful, civilized world. In a rush we went to Iraq to fight the large army of a madman, while not a single army was sent to fight a disorganized milicia and protect the civilians slain on the screens of our TVs, right in front of our eyes, in the poor country of Sudan. Incredible efforts and money were spent to make a war in Iraq, but an even more important issue such as an eminent genocide with much less opposition and complexity did not raise a single fund from the countries of the world. This is a shame for everyone of us, a burden we should all carry for the rest of our lives because we are all just equally guilty for not caring about it. But carrying a burden is meaningless if we keep ignoring the calls of distress from the people in need. So what are we waiting for, what is the world and our leaders are waiting for to save the people in Darfur ? That it becomes history and these poor people too perhaps ?There are so many terrible scenes and stories about Darfur. The BBC has been doing a great job in talking about it, their reporters went there and they showed, and they pleaded; they talked to the victims and we heard stories of events, of dreadful events, that none should be allowed to take place in our modern world. These people had almost nothing, now they are really left with nothing at all. They begged for help, they cheered when they thought the US would save them, I remember an officer who was sent there as an observer mentioned in one BBC report, but no help came and since then they've just been losing their hopes and lives by great numbers.And now recently, another tragedy from the African continent came to overshadow the events in Darfur, perhaps because people's generosity is so restrain that they cannot give it to more than one cause at the same time. People in Niger, and children mostly, are dying, dying of starvation. I remember a speech I often heard on TV when I was a kid in the 80's, it was saying that in the times we are living in, in such advanced times, where welfare is so well-spread in our modern countries, intense and sometimes deadly hardships such as starvation or slavery should not be happening anymore. Great speech, so true. But 20 years later, I still hear the same speech, the same words, these things should not be happening, still, they happen right now, exactly like before. There's a difference though, we're richer, we're more advanced, but the people are as poor as they used to be. Where is the logic in that ? There's no logic in hypocrisy. Things like this should not happen, but they will keep happening, because we don't care: our well-being is not affected, why should we care ? This is merely the truth.We, the fat, ugly, stupid people for whom destroying ourselves is a luxury, a refinement, a pleasure, that we accomplish by smoking, drinking, polluting, overeating. Look at all our old fat leaders, both in politics and economy, in their tight suit laughing together at the world, their disobedient pet, going insane. Why should we care about what's happening to the very poors in the heart of Africa ? What makes this even more disgusting, even more intolerable once again is the predictability. This famine in Niger was announced, back in november 2004 they said on BBC World. And it's true, so true, I remember like if I had been witnessing it. When they announced the famine some days ago, I couldn't believe it, I remembered this report months and months ago, about how the locusts had destroyed the crops and about reporters and experts warning that something should be done otherwise next year a famine would occur. It was told so long before ! Imagine someone is going to announce you will die in 10 months unless you receive food. Wouldn't you laugh at him ? If you were living in Niger, you wouldn't.Africa is a person dying in front of us, bleeding from his many wounds, we could save him just by touching him, by putting our hands on the wounds, to stop the flow of blood. But we don't, we just watch him die and tell him how sorry we feel.If you want to do something, here are a few links, I really hope it can help them:- http://www.worldvision.org- http://www.savedarfur.org- http://www.savedarfur.com

I hid a rose

I hid a rose in my rage.

Whenever shall we meet again

"Whenever shall we meet again?"
"In thunder, lightning or in rain,"
"When the hurly-burly's done,"
"When the battle's lost or won..."

This is the question I would like to ask Chris. "Whenever shall we meet again?" He hurt me more than any other human being has ever hurt me. I would be lying to myself if I didn't say that.
But it's over. And I've moved on, and so is he. I forgave him, gave him his things back. It was hard, very hard to pack that box. It was also hard, very hard to take the glass rose from him. So hard. Every time I looked at it...it hurt. Every time I saw him, it hurt. Every time I saw myself, it began to hurt. It hurt so much I stopped wiping the tears away. It hurt so much that pain became part of my daily life.

But it's all over now, and I am fine, and I am alive.

But the hurly-burly isn't done. There's still drama, which I have described in a previous posting, I suppose. The battle isn't really a battle...but it is a skirmish. And the more I learn about the two of them the more I wish I'd stayed out of it. I can't get pulled back into this drama.

He told her all the same things he told me. He told me once that he'd liked me for years but was unable to say anything because of loyalties and the such. But he told her that too....

Does she really love him, or does she feel like she owes him something? Do they really compliment each other, or will they be simply pooling their pain together because misery loves company? Do they both really seek Jesus? When I was with Chris...I "prayed" more, but my personal relationship with God actually was strung thin. I was further from God than ever. Is she seeking Jesus because Chris is a gung-ho Christian? How long before they both make the same mistakes? GOOD GOD, WHAT CAN I DO!? There's nothing. I am helpless in this.

God, take care of them. However in love they might be...take care of them and let them see YOUR WILL and not THEIR WILL. Give them signs and miracles. Speak to them in their dreams. Send angels to guard them against the demons that live inside them. Depression, lust, hate, anger, things I experienced last time.

And good Lord, help me to put all of this behind me, so it will become like a nightmare I can't remember. I will always know I was shaken. Help me to let it go. Don't let this drama crap suck me back in again.

Love yielded pain, because it was false and I believed it.
Yet Jesus pain yielded my love and healing. Yet it is true, and still sometimes I'm shaken enough to doubt it...

Fair is foul. Foul is fair. Hover through fog and filthy air.

Linx

www.homestarrunner.com
www.redvsblue.com
www.muffinfilms.com
www.big-bunny.com
www.makingfiends.com
www.eatyou4mydinner.com
www.jeffiscool.com/numanuma
www.worldprayers.org
www.madblast.com
www.albinoblacksheep.com
www.neodelight.com
www.dyingember.blogspot.com (MINE!)

Melodrama

Melodrama actually means "Play" with "music". Or "play with Music" I play with music often, in fact, I record much, I write music often. I do alot of singing and piano. I've touched a guitar, but failed miserably, and I also can play the flute (however unpleasantly). My father is a piano tuner, my brother a terrific trombonist, my sister is a singer, trumpet-player, and dabbles with the piano. She learns so quicky. But she's also 11.
My mother played the clarinet once...long ago.

But what I'm referring to as melodrama is really just the drama in my life right now. I won't even touch the Amber-Adam-Chris-Starla-Kristen love/friendship spiderweb. You've heard of love triangles? Well...this would be a love spiderweb. It's complicated. And for me, it's over. I just worry about the others. I care about all of them, yes, even Chris. I hope that the entire ordeal ends and that it will soon be a simple high-school melodrama of a memory, leaving no one perminately scarred. Never date friends. Ever. I don't care how simple or how easy it seems at the time. Never ever do it.

Spiderwebs and love somehow strangely find a way to go together.
Fair is foul, foul is fair....

An elven Druid, Dorian son of Magiluthran, lives in Kelethian and is a mage of the fouth circle. It is an important time in Kelethian, and the Druids of the Light are preparing to celebrate Gael, which is a holiday week where the druids of the inner circles choose druids from the outer circles to enter the inner circles. Also, all of the elven druids leave Kelethian and move out into the Open, the rest of the elven world, and give gifts to the Chosen. It is a careful process, the Choosing. Gael is a holiday of the Third Circle and is practiced every three years in the third week of the third month. It was a beautiful morning and Dorian was enjoying it. He walked along the Ru'then Gardens, smelling the flowers and singing softly to the morning sun.

Dorian walked down the corridor seeking the voices out. "They haven't been leaving me alone lately," he said softly to himself...his own voice echoing through the corridors in his mind. He shut his eyes and tried to picture the voices...he concentrated...hard, but he wasn't skilled enough to bring the telepathic Voices into the light. Not even into the light of his mind.He opened his eyes and shook the frustration from his head. He was simply a druid of the Fourth Circle. He hoped to be chosen for Gael, but he doubted it would happen. Very few people were chosen, and they were the ones who excelled at all their skill places, not just a few, leaving others into frustration.Three...he counted the twelve shining stars in the north part of the sky. He had to get in touch with his third person. That is what it is truely all about he told himself. The fourth circle was a dreadful place to be for him, Dorian, young and restless...he wanted to move on. He wanted to be part of the third circle.He wasn't getting anywhere. He felt frustrated, nauseated, because you see, the fourth circle is the Circle of Self. You must conquer yourself to move on. But the only way to conquer yourself is to be at peace with yourself, and finding inner peace is hard for someone at such a time. Dorian looked foreward to Gael as a time to move on. The inner circles were bustling, in preparation for the Teaching week, which is the week before Gael starts. The Choosing was always a looked foreward to process, in all the circles, even though it is considered to be mainly the Third Circle's holiday. Before Gael the inner circles come to the outer circles in Kelethian and teach them what they have found through Magick and the Choosing thus commences. After the Teaching, the Mages from the outer circles go forth throughout Foth and give the elven people's their Gifts, also in search of the Chosen. They search far and wide...and in most places, the Druidic Elven Mages are welcomed warmly into the Elf Kingdoms and Cities and Villages (as smaller civilizations tend toward the Mountains). But in some places the Dark Elves still thrive, it is there that the Druidic Elven Mages are hunted, systematically and tortured and murdered and Gael, though a celebration, is usually spattered with casualties.

Gael was coming up and it was time to prepare for Fael, which is to undo all that Gael works for...to capture the Chosen and any who sought to help them. Fael is a Dark Elven holiday. The Dark Elves are a rebel race that primarily believe that the Druidic Elves, or the Light Elves (of course they don't call themselves 'light' because all light is attributed to Rheay, so there can be no "Light Elves" only "Dark" Elves and "Druidic" Elves. ) have gone mad. These Dark Elves seek not to kill, but rather to "educate" the Chosen. Their means of education, however, are more like means of persuasion, and their means of persuasion are more....like torture,

Everyone had heard the stories. Dorian sometimes heard the screaming. He always wondered about the screaming. He didn't know where it came from. He didn't know whose screams they were. He could tune them out after a while...but he only could do this with an extreme amount of patience and concentration...he exerted such little control over his telepathy. He went into his room. He sat on his elven bed and began to meditate. "Al-cul-mulia, Yae undures. Yae vieres ul-mulia. Tor quen tiros exeiel. Fer-tem-pries, empulnei" He chanted his song, meaning 'Come near me, you from the sky. Listen to me, you Voices. Be quiet and leave. This is said, be at peace.' He chanted this over and over and over until the voices were gone.

Dorian closed his eyes and gave into slumber. The screaming returned. He found himself in a dark place inside his dream. He called on the Star of Luthilie, his birthstar. No light came into his dream. He called on the Star of Shingmair. A little light was given, but he could not see where the tortured screams were emitted from. He called on Monitha, the Moonchild. A silvery light was cast. He found himself in an empty room. There was an inch of water on the floor. It was slippery and cold. The screams stopped suddenly. The voices cried out. And there was silence, nothing but the dripping sound that is made in such dank places. Dorian left the room. "No more knowledge will be given to me here," he knew. He found his Place. His homeland in Foth. He found a quiet place by the trees where he could come and think a while in peace about his last dream. He spent the rest of the night here. He awoke. You see, days can pass, weeks can pass, months and even years can pass within the elven dreamworld. They are wonderful lucid dreamers, controlling every fleeting action and every circumstance. But Dorian wished to return to his Reality in the Fourth Circle so that he could ask the elder elves about these dreams and about his Voices.

Dorian approached the Elden Chamber apprehensively. He wasn't sure what to say, but he just knew he had to speak up about this disturbance. He did not knock, but went into Methusael's home and sat on the floor (you see, knocking is considered to be rude...it breaks whatever concentration the Elder is concentrating on) next to Methusael, who was deep in concentration about something. "I knew you would come," Methusael said knowingly."I know" Dorian answered, and as according to custom asked "What sayeth the wind today?""May your days be lighted by Rheay, your hair be blown by Wind, and your nights guided by your stars""So the wind is in our favor?" asked Dorian."That it is," Said Methusael, "But you did not come to ask me about the wind, have you?""No I have not, I have come to ask about the Voices.""Have they been telling you things that you wish not to be told?""No. They have been screaming. They have been crying. They have been in agony.""Have you been agitating them? Clear your mind...such things are usually brought on by self agitation, and go away as soon as you meditate...." The old man was stern, perhaps even stodgy when it came to the practice of meditation. So few realize the value it has, he would say, and he would have no pity for people who didn't clear their minds, for the Fourth Circle was about Clearing the Mind."But I have...deeply.""Where did it take you?""Someplace dark.""It is obviously nothing serious, you are merely anxious of the oncoming Gael. Yae Vieres ul-mulia. Leave this one alone, he is young, he has other things to focus on, if there is something that needs to be spoken, tell me, or another Elder. Fer-tem-pries, empulnei. Come and sit with me, Dorian, and we shall gaze into your mind.""The voices have gone, you've sent them from me.""That is good. It is better for that.""But I wanted to find out what they were screaming about. You know as well as I do the stories about Voices that Scream and what must be done about it.""Stories are stories and there are other ways of approaching things. You are young, you are restless and ready to dive head first into everything that has crossed your path, this is why you are in the Fourth Circle...to break this from you, the way to be a Druid is to be Wise.""And I am learning, but I learn better with, hands on experience.""It is your choice to take or leave my advice but don't expect to be welcome when you come, not wishing for my advice but rather my ideas on your headaches.""I'm sorry, I meant no offence. Gerendia.""Gerendia-teuro. You've been dreaming then?""Yes.""Someplace dark?" Dorian was silent, but Methuselah knew his answer. "It is nothing. Do not worry about it.""I'm losing control of my dreams then as well?""No, but the Voices are getting the better of you, leading you where you need not go. It is out of your hands. Someday it may be up to you to do things your way, but until then you are only a Listener, and a Listener who listens to the Voices but not to his Teachers." He cleared his throat, trying not to be so rough sounding. "It is time for Scepha"Scepha is a hot drink that relaxes and revitalizes the Elves at the same time. It is had at Gatherings to clear the mind, but it also has a great deal of healing qualities, bitter smell, but doesn't taste all that horrible.

Methuselah left Dorian in the Elden Chamber. Dorian was deep in thought and meditation, another world, in fact. Methuselah went into the next chamber. "I fear what he's seen," he said to the old, long-beirded elf that stood before him.
"I have felt the knowledge of what it is too..." the Elf replied to him.
"A calling for help, I think."
"We should use him in Gael this year then. They're calling to him."
"He's so young though, he has so much to learn and so much training to complete. As his advisor and teacher I can't possibly send him to Gael."
"It isn't about what you think is best. It is what is the want of Rheay."
"You think he's a link?"
"No. But I think that he could become a link..."
"There hasn't been a link in our people for an age or more."
"This I know."
"There isn't enough time to prepare him for Gael."
"Send others with him. He will lead them. They will find the Callers..."
"He doesn't even know what he's hearing."
"So teach him..."

Methuselah and Dorian sat down together after meditating for a few minutes. "I'm going to have to ask you to pack. You have to go with a group being prepared for you for Gael.""Wh-wh-at?" he stuttered, surprised and delighted. "What?" he said after a breath, more calmly."If it were up to me, I wouldn't send you, but after much thought and meditation" he stressed the word meditation, out of the habit of teaching, "they have decided that it is for the better." he paused again, closed his eyes and bowed his head deeply. Dorian did the same. Their thoughts were interlinked, and Dorian gave a start. "I have to train...like that??" He asked...having seen it in his teacher's head. Methuselah just smiled and nodded.Within an hour, Dorian found himself running through Kelethian, pacing himself but making haste. He ran the circumference of the Fourth circle, up and down the stone and wood streets, onto the elevated part of the city, up stone stairs to where the trees are. It was a long run and he was breathing heavily, an elven sweat glistened down his face and he found himself drained of energy at the end. Methuselah caught hold of his arm as he lay, after his run, at the front entryway of the Chamber where he and other elves stayed the night, and had closed his eyes looking for his Place, but Methuselah brought him back into the reality of where he was and led him inside. "This is ul-scepha," he said handing Dorian one of his own glasses containing water, and added a blue powder from a small leather pouch he kept in his robes. "It will rejuvinate you and also help you have less soreness." He smiled and for a moment Dorian thought that he was relishing this moment...it was just then that Katameru walked in the door. Katameru was a well-known strength trainer. The sixth circle had been his dwelling as a Mage Teacher, he was a ruthless teacher when it came to teaching defense and strength training. "Hello, Dorian Silverstar" He said when Dorian wished more than anything to make an audible groan. Methuselah was watching, and he didn't want to be impolite. How can this be happening. I passed the second circle years ago. I breeched the connection between my mind and body years ago. I don't need this right now. "He is going to be your teacher, as well as me, for a few months. You will need to be at the top of your strength to fight foe that may be greater than you." Dorian mumbled something, but Methuselah allowed it to go. "I'll be leaving you two." And he did, leaving Katameru and Dorian alone in the Younger Chamber. Katameru was the first to speak. "You do know that we will have to go to the sixth circle." Dorian nodded, said nothing and, exhausted still, followed Katameru out of the Chamber and into the Streets of Kelethian.

It was later that night when Dorian was back in his own chamber, exhausted, he did an unelvish thing by slumping down onto his mat, falling into DeepSleep before he even hit the floor. Dorian closed his eyes and gave into slumber. The screaming began immediately, not like before. It used to start being far off. But this time it was closer. Louder. He found himself in the same Dark Place. His elven eyes detected movement in the shadows, but nothing that he could make out."Kala duluthu Shingmir" He spoke. "Monitha" He spoke again, each time the bubble of light forming around him got a little brighter. He began to see the walls, the corners. He picked up his feet and splashed back down into the cold water, which was now up to his ankles. He walked to the nearest wall in the perfectly square shaped room. It was cold, wet, stone. The screams continued to echo, voices...indecipherable. Where were they coming from? He thought to himself. Something dripped next to him. The light was fading. "The moon must be going down" he thought. "It is time for me to awaken." He breathed and used his mind to force his consiousness out of the dream. But he was unable to wake up. In Dorians chamber, Methusehlah was pacing. One thing kept crossing his mind."they are taking him".



Scribblings from the Past If you know little of the Elven culture, I'll explain it to you. IN every elf-kingdom, there is an elf king, and every elf-king has two elf-counselmen. This avoids political conflicts, for the elf-king settles any dispute. THere are different types of elves: forest-elves, sea-elves, mountain-elves, stone-elves, sun-elves, moon-elves, ice-elves, and dark-elves. Dark evlces are the only evil elves, and they live deep underground, much like the impish clever goblins. But this story isn't about them, although they appear in it from time to time. THIS story is about a young sun-elf named Enriel. Enriel was the most beautiful of the sun elves, and most of these elves loved her dearly. When this beautiful young elf-maiden turned 16, the very magical age, she was invited to the celebration of the return of Ignatios, and his son, Lothian. All the elves in the kingdom were invited. Understandibly, Enriel was very enthralled about her invitation, and in the entire week, 'ere the feast, she was very busy sewing and merrily singing as she sewed. The night of the feast was upon her, and she was creating a beautiful gown to wear to the ceremony. It had the light of moonshadows and blue flames of a burning pheonix woven into it's magical fabric. It was a fabric that the elves called "linnen" named much like our own "linen" but it was much different in character. It had a thinness to it, a lightness, though the flames of a pheonix could make it warm for a chill that brushes the air. It is not of this world, the elvish linnen'sn't. You could not see through it, for it was so tightly woven, but it was so thin and light that it almost seemed as smoke to the touch. The gown was completed, and she and her sun-sisters went to the sun-king and welcomed him most graciously. Ignatios had been to the forestlands and the sealands, to conference about the growing threat of the dark elves in Lower Foth, the problem of the increase in number of human children being stolen by those mischievious sprites and faeries, and to cover for the sunelf-children who had recently developed an ability to send down rains of fire on the sea elves, which boil them up a bit, and on the ice elves, which make their houses melt a bit...all in the name of good fun, you see, but things had gotten out of hand and the children needed a strict talking to. But that would come later. Today was a day to celebrate the good Ignatios' return.

Losing it

Heavy sigh. My best friend lives in California, which, for me, is light years away. I don't have the money to visit her, and she doesn't have the money to visit me either, but she was planning a trip anyway, but then her car broke down and so now she can't come because the money she was going to spend on the trip she had to spend on her car. We're both leaving for college very soon. I'm really bummed out, but on the other hand I can't help but think of how much I love her and miss her and then, I figure if she's half as stressed out about leaving home, she's probably tired and crabby and irratable
I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't sleep at night anymore. I can't. I can't shut my tired eyes. I can't move...and then I sleep during the day to catch up. But I never dream. I wake up every couple of hours before REM sleep happens, which is very unhealthy. Last night I was up til 4 Am...because lately it seems that during the day it is hot, and at night there is lighteningstorms early in the morning. But they aren't loud, just bright flashes of silver light, and then I can never sleep until they are over. They start at 3 am or 4. I generally can't make myself eat after 11, and I sleep during the day until at least noon. I feel like I'm missing out on my family somehow. I'm leaving them. I'm leaving literally everything I've ever known. Where I'm going, I won't know anyone, or anything. Except what I already know about the place. I picked this particular college because it was a good distance away from home because I wanted to know what it would be like to have some independence. The independence will be wonderful. But the missing my family, somehow I overlooked in my college search. Sigh. I'm ready. I'm ready for this. I've been building all my life up to this moment.
Except the fact that Dad told me that senior year...the summer after senior year of high school is the most fun summer because you don't yet know what it is to be a poor college student. However, the way I spend my money, or rather...the way I SAVE my money because of the parent's constant badgerings, I would dare to argue with him that I DO know how it feels to be a poor college student. Of course they would just roll their eyes and say "You have no idea" but then I look at some other kids. The ones who get to eat out once or twice a week, the ones who could always do everything and be in every activity they ever wanted, the ones who always had the coolest toys and the coolest clothes. I never had that. I will never experience having that. Because even if I grow one day to have alot of money, I won't eat out twice a week. I won't enroll in every exercize class or bridge club. I won't buy cool toys or gadgets, I won't become the sort of person who cares about fashion. Because that's not me. That will never be me.
Don't even get me started about how much I hate shopping. Like for clothes. Ugh!
If I had money, like alot of money, I don't know what I would do. I'd first have to help my parents get their feet on the ground financially, because it's always what they've always wanted I guess. It is so rediculous how they fight over money. It's so rediculous how they make one another feel, when, in truth, we have alot of very nice things. Of course, my father believes that you should never buy anything unless it is supposed to last. But the problem with that of course is that technology is changing so fast. CDs are going out, MP3 disks are coming in. Tapes are a thing of the past, now DVDs are even giving way to newer forms of technology.
Computers are changing really fast too. As soon as you buy a new computer, there are already viruses out to get it, and you then get virus software which also gets outdated every month or so. It is the way of the world. Out with the old in with the new.
But I was talking about my friend, my life....
And now I'm annoyed. Because it is always the blogs that people focus on themselves so much that nobody ever pays any attention to unless they know the person. I know that, when I die, my journals (and there are many) will never be published because they are so boring. I mean, it's all about me and my life and my problems and my friends and my thoughts. And only someone who needs to get a life wants to read about someone elses. Nobody really cares what I think about so-and-so. Nobody really cares about what I did today. Or what my middle name is. Or any of it. Except me. I care. I care alot. Kristen cares. But Kristen, you see, she is starting to fade. She's always so crabby because she doesn't eat or sleep the way people should. She doesn't have any energy anymore. She doesn't have anything to do. It's like our life was put on hold until college. She cares what I do, but how much does she care about other people? I suppose she should care more. I should just tell her "Kristen, you need to be more caring." And I wonder if she'll listen. What does one occupy oneself with from 12:00am to 4? As for Kristen and I, we blog and talk to each other (quietly) and sometimes we go on MSN. We both need some encouragement and neither of us have the energy to give it to one another.
And we worry too much these days what people think of us. It's like, part of me thinks that people should be like, treating me extra nice before I'm gone. But then that's self-centered. And I'm not the easiest person to be around these days. Especially because I'm sleeping all the time.
I always think, today will be the day that I will stay up all night...into tomorrow. I'll be up, and I'll finally be able to fall asleep at about 11 and stay that way for a while. But no.
This morning I had a small success of a breakthrough. I was up at 9. So I got 4 hours of sleep, instead of my normal 12. 12 hours is too much sleep. But then I slept tonight from 9 to 11. Making it 6 hours...but now I'm up again. I'll be up for some time. Who knows.

I am sad. Kristen is sad too. Maybe it isn't attention that she needs. I think it's credit for what she did. But then what is it that she should have credit for? Getting this group of friends together? Starting the 'party' life? And now, some of these people, my dear friends that I'm leaving, I don't feel that bad about. And it makes me feel guilty that I don't think I'll miss them. That's why Kristen's a mess too. I think. And then I feel like, all the friendships that I have don't mean as much anymore. I mean, surely, some of them do, but some of them just don't really do that much for me anymore. And it scares me. It scares me to death losing some of the people that I love so much...my closest friends and family. But I'm supposed to move on now. And they're supposed to stay.

An Essay

MY DESK IS ALIVE

My desk is alive, it's alive, IT'S ALIVE! When the lights are out, the notebooks and the text books come out and sing. It's an ocean of books and paper. The desk itself comes alive and eats people's worries and it runs along. They come in the night only.

The books make their way to my bedroom. They go swirling round and round and farther and farther away from my school. All the books in my house arise and joins in on the haunting melody. The characters from the books all came alive to join in with the haunting chant. Suddenly, my math teacher jumps out of my math text book. Peter pan is spying for Wendy, John and Michael. Dorothy, and Toto, and Glinda, and the Wicked Witch of the West screaming

"I'm melting! I'm melting, oh what a whirl, what a whirl, what a whirl!" all twirled up into an endless cyclone.

All my fears and worries were sucked into a pen that wrote them down. Pencils scurry and write down my hopes and dreams. They write a haunted story about a deserted island. My mind travels time, and mountains grow.

While all of that is happening, Tarzan is screaming. White Fang howls, goblins scream, Bilbo hops, Gollum hisses: "yess my pressiousss" Charlette is building cobwebs all over. Frankenstein grieves over his creation. In the middle of it all, there is a wizard chanting:

Wishing, swishing

Wanting, dreaming

never stopping

never ending

grinding bones

for gruesome bread

Never stopping

Till all are DEAD!!

The second he shouted "DEAD" the floor gave way and EVERYTHING fell into a maze of darkness. Continuing it's haunting song.

At the end of the hole, someone caught me. I spent a lengthy month with the couple who had caught me.

IT took me a week to figure out why I heard singing in my sleep. Not the harsh, haunting sounds of the books, but a sweet, soft, flowing melody. I found a trap door within another week. As I walked I plunged into a deep, dark, water-filled hold. I screamed, I couldn't breathe, the stench was unbearable. I thought I would pass out. I opened my eyes, the melody had stopped. I saw a dark figure. She had long flowing hair. She whispered something. Suddenly, I could breathe! (hey-that's a big thing when your lungs are on the verge of popping) I sucked in fresh air. I looked around. I was in the middle of an ocean! Suddenly, a great blue whale tossed me up, up, up...into the air. I was scared, but I instinctively knew what to do. I dove. I went down twenty feet! I saw it plunge playfully at me again. We played our game for hours. For the first time, I realized I didn't have legs, but fins and beautiful green, blue and silver scales. The weird thing was, I didn't care. I swam from the east coast of Japan to California. I met sea turtles, and whales, and dolphins. One day, I saw people collecting turtle eggs on the beach. Disgusting! Yuck.

One day, I saw a gray mist in the distance. Wow! I thought, a new game... but as it came in closer... I snapped to reality. I swam as fast as I could, but I couldn't escape the oncoming tornado of books. I got tangled in the weeds. The tornado of books came closer. It carried me into the sky. The wizard chanted an uneven spell:

Blossom bloom,

Blossom fall

Can't you see it all?

If you see a kind of goal,

Try it and it'll take your soul.

Mountains cry "doom is done"

It's as simple as the rising sun.

Blossoms bloom

Blossoms fall

We won't stop

till' destroyed is all.

NOOO! I wailed. I woke up, but what was I doing in the library?

I wrote this when I was in fifth grade.

I'm proud of it, it started me as a writer.

No thanks to my teacher who thought it was weird.

Who also missed alot of grammar and spelling mistakes that I corrected.

Bleh!

A Rant

Will you remember me? I don't think you will. It seems to me that you're always so self-interested in self-preserving what you have. You say that I will not remember you. That is not true. I will never forget you. But will we keep in touch? Probably not. We aren't even doing that now. It makes me so sad to think that it is now the other way around. And then there are other people, namely one of my neighbors, not the one you would think of though, who I can't even remember her name anymore. It's like she doesn't ever call me, it's like she wants nothing to do with me. I'm sorry, I'm very sorry if I ever offended you. I'm very sorry if you're going through something hard right now, something I don't understand or know about. But all I can say is that I love you and that you will get through it. You are so wonderful...but I feel ignored.............WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!

The War

The war on terror. There are many sides. The conservitives hate the liberals and likewise we hate them back, but the real question is, what should we do about the war.
I don't think we should have gone to Iraq in the first place, but since we are there, I think we're at least doing the right thing now in trying to set up a new government. But I wonder if we hadn't stepped in. Saddam was a tyrant, but the people didn't raise up themselves into protest, we did it for them. Where there should have been a revolution, there was a liberation. If people truly and deeply want to be free, they will unite and they will conquer. But America stepped in instead, before the people of Iraq united to fight, and caused more casualties all around. Because the Iraqis that we are fighting fight a guerrilla war, Americans are killing Iraqi civillians along with the enemy, and this is bringing Iraqi sentiment against us; they are starting to believe that we are evil. And we are starting to believe that they are evil, and if you read Indigored's article, you may find that some of them are evil. But it is wrong to think that all of them are evil. I sense that my life isn't going to be easy because I know that something big is about to happen. And I think that alot of people feel that way and that is why there is so much hate flying around. Fair is foul and foul is fair. Hover through fog and filthy air.

Trouble

Toil. It's rough trying to get some information on the Middle East. First of all, there are sooo many different countries and different cultures there that it is nearly impossible to study such a vast place. And the really hard thing about it is alot of the people there are not all that different from people here, but some of them are, sometimes their values are different and sometimes they're not. I'm having trouble even just breaking it down. I looked at Bahrain...and then at Turks.
But I am fascinated with far-away places. Iran is so far away from my small dull town in the american midwest. The hicks here don't appreciate far away places at all. I really want to know what it's like in the OUTSIDE world. I need to open up my box. I've been living in this hole for too long. Leaving home for college isn't enough. I want to SEE EVERYTHING. Though, this is not that good.
I went to my local library looking for information. All I could find were books on the wars and the American involvment in the middle east. This saddens me because...americans can be so arrogant. Sigh. There are those of us who like to think outside the box, or in my case, the hole. Argh!

Disney

Fair is foul, foul is fair.
How is it fair that the Great and Powerful Micheal Eisner makes tens of thousands of dollars an hour, but the people who do all the work, the small and foul peons who are working...

Fair IS foul

Why did this happen this way? Why does it bother me. It is a happening which happened oh, so long ago. But like a dandilion, fair...he strangled me. And now I am naught.

Sullivan to Sarah, during the Civil War

My very dear Sarah:
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days -- perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.
Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure -- and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine 0 God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing -- perfectly willing -- to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.
But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows -- when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children -- is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?
I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death -- and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.
I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles have often advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.
Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.
The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me -- perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar -- that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night -- amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours -- always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.
As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.
Sullivan

I know he doesn't see.

I know he doesn't know either. He's so far off. But it's hard now. I love him. Part of me feels like I'm lying. Part of me knows that I cannot hold this love anymore. But part of me wants to see him more than anything. I want to wish him a happy 18th. I want to tell him good luck after graduation. I want to know if he's available. I want to see him again. And part of me thinks that that's ok. Part of me knows it's not. Because what if he's still seeing her? What if he's in love with her? What if she's the one for him. I don't know. I never will, will I??? Unless, unless I were to write him. Am I willing to take that leap? Yes. Am I willing to break my heart again? Yes. He was worth it.
But maybe I shouldn't get in his way. Maybe. Maybe if we're really really meant to be together we will be. I have to just trust that. If we're really meant to be together we will be. And no amount of me thinking about it will change that.
And if we're not meant to be together, forcing it will just make it worse.
But I love him.
But I can't.
He's so far.
He chose her...she must be incredible.
Either she is really incredible, or the distance was just too much for him.
Either the distance was too much for him or maybe I'm not as incredible.
Or, maybe he's not the romantic that I thought he was.
How could that be though? After the things we said, the things we promised one another? How can it be that he isn't?
Because he was. He was everything. I didn't deserve him. I wasn't ready.
I wish I could see him again. I remember praying that I could see him one last time so I could tell him goodbye.
And I did.
But now, months later, I have this relapse where I just can't stop thinking about him. Maybe it's because prom came and went. Maybe it's because many of my friends are dating now and pharimones are flying. Maybe it's all the roses everywhere before graduation. Maybe it's just spring. Whatever it is, it's unbearable. And hopeless. And it stings.
And then there's leaving home. Leaving home for college. Breathe. I just really want to see him that's all. I just really want to hold him and forgive him and love him. Maybe I should tell him that. Maybe I should let him know. I remember how I cried that day. I remember how I called my best friend right after we broke up and she helped me get through it. I remember seeing him in everything. I still do. Every time I look at the stars and think of the kiss. Every time the wind blows I hear his name. Every time the sun shines in the blue sky I see his eyes. Unto the insanity that now infiltrates my being and takes over. A little obsessed? Hardly.
I stare at the keyboard tears in my face, and feel nothing. My fingers are electrified with a rage only known to those who know betrayal and heartbreak. A rage only known to young romantics who let the romance become cynicism.
I know he doesn't see, or understand. I know he doesn't feel what I feel. Maybe he's just not as romantic as I was. As I assumed he was.
Fair is foul
Foul is fair.
Hover through fog and filthy air.

Fair

Foul. It's hard to explain. I went to Julliard's webpage. Part of me says "Kristen, why didn't you try?" Why didn't I try? Why didn't I reach for the stars. At least I could have said that I missed. Monty's happy enough with me. And I really do love singing. But only 8% of all the applicants get in! I mean, I'm a good singer. But I would have had to be training for far longer than 2 1/2 years to go THERE. I look at that and I wonder...dang...did I miss my chance for greatness?
And then of course I regain my own dignity (in my head) by telling myself that by going to a small, private, liberal arts school that I am truly exploring life and that there I will be able to really live my dream instead of becoming a performer. But what about performance? Am I suited to it?
I live to perform. I truly feel that I am really living when I'm performing. But I don't think I'm cutthroat enough to go into the performance business. Offstage, they have to put up with so much crap. People who jerk their chains and people who try to jerk their chains, but don't. And how could I tell the difference?
Everyone loves the limelight. Everyone loves attention. But I think the attention that I perfer more than any is just to be enjoyed by my friends. To make those people laugh. That's what I really enjoy the most.
So I'm thinking I'll be a teacher. I think it's only natural that I want to be a teacher. I think that it is because teaching makes you stronger....and when you teach, really you're always learning. And also, teaching touches lives. Forever. I want to help other people to grow.
Sigh. But what if everyone hates me? What if I find my life a sham and find that no matter what kind of beginning I had that I am a failure, and have been, and always will be a failure. Because it seems that no matter how hard I push, I always could have pushed a little harder in hindsight.
And right now, I've got no place to talk of pushing because I have let myself go. Bad Krystn!
Heavy Sigh.

Bubble, Bubble

Toil and trouble.
Fire burn and ice creams double!

There upon the heath bar
To meat with Macbeth
Upon the bear nights car.