Beat Me to the Ground

Diary: 2012/01/05 at 23:57

Absolute fatigue. This certainly is a new feeling in this human body of mine — to be precise — a new feeling considering the date and circumstances I currently find myself in.

This week was originally intended to get some things back from the abyss, but it has instead been spent exchanging services to a company for monetary units for consumption and expenditure. As far as I am concerned having a job is many times better than not having a job, but there are moments when happenings take place in my life that I entirely desire to be a child with little worries about the ways of the world and about the future of my life.

Never mind my future though, let us focus a little bit more on the present.

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In a Corner

Story: 2012/01/04 at 23:55

The stench of flesh and the disgusting stone That is all that is left for me.

Objects that are lost are sometimes meant to be lost, and some things that are found should have never been found. Such was the case of the artifact I am holding in my very hand, which along with its unknown origins has brought nothing but misery to my human existence. I still remember the first of those accursedly stale afternoons. It was cold and the dead leaves marched outside the porch of the main house, and all that was unknown to the scenery was the uniformed man and the screams of my father. I was never very fond of my older brother and his unfathomable taste for adventure… He was always daddy’s boy: The handsome one, the strong and intelligent, the one who won everything, and the one who got everything. He was not the one who spent his nights reading in the dark, but maybe if he had been… then maybe the both of us would be elsewhere with our boring lives in our hands. Our lives, however, are no-where to be found. While my brother lies eternally exploring some dark pit of the wild world in the East, I shall remain hidden in a dark space below the main house — along with the things that now lie beside me, and the many more that are sure to come.

It must have been ten or twenty iterations after my brother departed from the realm of the living. My studies had begun to flourish and life was going to become much more colourful as I prepared to leave the house I was born into and the house I grew in for all eternity. My deep hours of study had granted me the tools needed to leave for better places filled with life and devoid of what was left of my mother and my father. Some say a parent should never bury a child, but I sure know that it is better for a parent to have something to bury than nothing at all, and since my brother was also a champion of hide-and-seek as a child, there was not much to be found when he was confirmed missing and certainly gone. All that he left behind was two brothers and their breeders, a wife who was quick to find a new husband, and his trophy room that forever shadowed my collection of encyclopaedias and tomes of the modern developments of mankind. It was in a moment of desperation and utter anxiety that I decided to curse that place for one last occasion and to see if there was something of interest among what was left of my brother.

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Trial by Fire

Diary: 2012/01/03 at 23:47

This year my human form is turning twenty-two years old. At the middle of this year I will have been blogging (in one way or another) for about half of my life, and while most of my old blogs are fortunately no-where to be found, I can certainly take pride in the hundreds of posts — gone or not — that I have somehow managed to generate.

The funniest part about most of the content I have ever created is probably that in every blog I have ever worked on, nearly 75% of the content has been created in the first three months of the year — right before I burn out and get tired of the entire blogging business just to forsake it into Spring-Summer activities or other not so interesting ventures. This year things are a tad bit different than usual.

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Even if I Cut a Throat…

Diary: 2012/01/02 at 22:29

Economic credits in this human world we all crawl and writhe in are a volatile thing to handle: Our overlords suggest us to spend all that we have and ask for that which we do not yet have to further sink ourselves in an ocean of red numbers — and in the end most of our money goes towards contraptions that we neither need nor want.

The border between the domains of the things we want and those we do not should be vast enough to be harmless, but in today’s world it is surprisingly… nonexistent. Frustration builds up as I see other humans defile their lives for no good reason.

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MMXII: 144 Resolutions

Diary: 2012/01/01 at 02:19

Every year for as long as this mind can remember there has been something plaguing the first few months of each yearly iteration — sometimes even an entire year depending on what that something was. That something is the cumulative group of objectives that are often known as New Year’s Resolutions. According to tradition one is supposed to make twelve resolutions or any divisor integer of such a number.

Each and every year for the longest time I have religiously set myself a certain number of objectives to fulfill. Over the last couple of years I managed to reduce such numbers to a single objective or no objectives at all, but as I realized how comical and pointless these objectives often are, and as I saw how many of the people whom I follow on Twitter were struggling to come up with resolutions, I decided to take it to another level and do a list of one hundred and forty four objectives I am willing to fulfill during the year twenty-twelve.

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