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| Silence 
Silence. When you don't say anything but everything you didn't want to say is heard. When you hold your tongue but everything is understood or rather misunderstood. When there are no xanga posts for over a month. But if anything, silence is definitely not golden.
Sometimes I just don't want to talk. Then it happens, a sort of shut down, a closing of the mind - a sort of blank out. Then not only is there silence from me, there is silence in me. As if the cogs in the machine had stopped turning, the bells and whistles stopped humming and the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound of silence. I hear without listening and I talk without speaking. There are times when I cannot snap out of this in time and my voiceless messages deliver their malevolent dispatches. 'Alas it is too late and the system fails to keep up, like a helpless animal lying limp as paralytic venom seeps into every sinew, saps strength and confines the will to the mind unable to act. And as those fangs come piercing through the flesh, the prison of the mind wonders what err produced such a fate. A personal flaw or was this just a natural foible and myself a common victim.
"Fools," I said, "You do not know, silence like a cancer grows. Hear my words that I might teach you. Take my arms that I might reach you." But my words like silent raindrops fell and echoed in the wells of silence.
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| Dear Mums, 
It's been one month since you've gone. Quite a busy and hectic month with all sorts of everything going on. I took this picture at the hospital the first time I was there. You always said I was like Peter Rabbit - though I've never read the tale. You probably read it to me when I was young, all I remember was that Peter Rabbit disobeyed his mother. Well that's me alright. It was odd seeing him there, kinda out of place. But at the same time I knew. Ever since I heard the news, there was a part of me that knew that you loved me and wanted to see me - seeing Peter Rabbit somehow let me know that it was okay. I didn't make it back in time but it was okay - someone had it under control.
I went to sleep that night knowing things weren't going well. I woke up the next day and went to school early - not knowing what had happened. Not knowing what to think - to be optimistic or not. But I slept so peacefully that night. I was hoping you'd have waited for me, you knew I was on my way back and I wanted to surprise you and make you laugh. I knew you missed me but I was busy running away and now I have no one to run from and no where to run to. For a moment I was angry, that I had gotten everything together and ready to come see you and you left before I got there. Part of me felt you had given up and left - but I know you wouldn't have given up. You're not me. I want to give up now, everything. I don't want to deal with school, church, people or life. Home's not as homey anymore. No one's going to love me like you did - in spite of all my shortcomings and flaws, in fact you love my flaws and my obnoxiousness. Only you love me in my filth and will hug me even in my pig sty of a room when I haven't showered.
People have told me many things, most of them good, but not all of them get it. A lot of them say trust in God, He has a plan but it's not that. It's not about the bigger picture, that's over emphasized. It was good friday tonight, it's not about the bigger picture that Jesus rises from the dead. It's about now. He's dead, he's gone, you're gone. Things aren't bad, but they're not good - they're just off, broken, crooked. I'm not going to look into the unforeseeable future and say that it's going to be alright. I'm going to say that right here, right now, I feel lost, I want to quit and I don't want to do anything. My low motivation has dropped lower. I don't care to get better - though I probably will. I know you love me and no matter what I do you won't be disappointed. I'm sorry I haven't been treating my body well, the flesh you bore.
I can't fill your shoes, no one can. The house is a mess, we don't know where anything is. And now one of my favourite lines has to be tossed out, "ask my mom". My room's also a mess, but you secretly always loved that because it meant that you could still take care of me and I was still your little boy. I will always be your little bunny and it will be hard to grow up. Snuzzles & Mogun miss you too.
I miss you mums.
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| killjoy 
Perhaps it's the season, perhaps the time of year. It could be the weather or circumstances here. But for whatever reason, I've been hearing and expressing that common phrase, "I'm tired." Of what, of who, of when, of where- I do not know and you do not care. I spent a large part of today doing nothing. I sat in bed, looked for anime to download, watched a recommendation from Lawry (5cm/sec) and did nothing. Was it satisfying? Replenishing? Rewarding? Relieving? Not in the least bit. The piles of piles of clutter still cluttering and piling up in my house and room. The midterm, labs still looming and due - I had barely managed to escape that reality for a brief moment - or not even. It's not nothing I want to do, it's not sleep I need. I'm tired but not from being awake. I'm tired because I'm not me. School, work, church - things that could define me on paper but bring no joy. The joy from doing something I love - seems so distant. When my fingers felt the thread and needle going back and forth through fabric cut by my design. When the hammer hits the nail in a contraption we theoretically think will work and now just need to try. Jumping off a diving board, singing and dancing around at home, stitching together a movie or my face on another. Somehow, I'm missing joy. It's probably school, the lack of parents at home, the perpetuality of life and the drama amongst peers. I'm tired.
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| 2008 Fiscal Year 
 Here's my fiscal year at a glace, it's a linear graphical representation of my total accounting savings. To many it represents my worth in a numerical way. This, along with my socio-economic status, my large possessions, my GPA, my circle of friends and my place of employment, define who I am. At least to some people. To others, I am represented by the pie chart - how I use my money, what I buy, what I wear, what gifts I give at what value, what I eat, my music. Me is not a tangible item so these things have enveloped the invisible form of me to outline me and attempt to define me. This such method of definition is flawed greatly but also used widely. I like graphs, I like charts, it's fun to make them but they don't make me. It helps me determine how I should better invest my money this coming year. I hope to reduce miscellaneous costs or recategorize them in new categories. Also adding in a tithing section and start believing that God can still work through his broken church and his broken messed up people like me. There's a lot not accounted for like miscellaneous cash because these are based off of my bank statements and consequently when I pay debit for many people and then take cash, the use of that cash is not tracked on these charts. So that's all, if you guys can go check out NOOMA 22 - Tomato. | | |
| 21 I'm twenty one today. No much more of a man than last year, maybe even less. More afraid of the world outside, feeling like I'm drifting into space, jettison'd from the spacecraft of childhood. Drifting not by choice. It's my birthday today and I don't really care. I've become overly selfish, too consumed with myself and incapable of thinking of others in a real way. All the benevolent ideas and talk amount to nothing, I'm all about me. Any act of kindness, any sort of deed has been about me. My ego, my desire for acceptance, my pride. And it turns out, that I have not love. A resounding gong.
So what's going to change. Probably nothing. I'm stuck in the rut of life, there's nothing I can do about it. Sounds lame and hopeless, pessimistic. I can try to pull myself out - probably won't end well. Am I too comfortable where I am? Too comfortable to change and try something new? Too satisfied with being liked by everyone? Love your enemies. I haven't made many or any I know of. It's easy when people like you - but it's not love. So that's this year, love. Real love. Which really requires very little talk. So this post can end.
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