No tea

Sometimes, for whatever reason, I don’t want tea.

Maybe the average man wants a cup of tea more often than me, I don’t know. It varies.

Today, you invited me for tea - well, you didn’t say that, but I suspected it. I came over ready for it, wanting to drink some hot tea because it had been a while. And yes, when I arrived you brought out the cups and the kettle.

And although the tea looked and smelled very tasty, which I’m sure it was, I suddenly didn’t feel like tea.

I said so. I tried to be polite about it, maybe that failed.

You turned around, shut me out, and muttered, “Same old song.”

I was hurt. Felt guilty about not wanting what men are said to want all the time, and apparently it’s inconceivable that sometimes I don’t.

I love tea. I love having tea with you. But sometimes I don’t feel like tea, and it’s not because of you, or the tea; I don’t love you or it any less in those moments.

It hurts, both me and you, that my ‘no’ is unacceptable.

What I want

You asked me what I want from you, and I got confused. What do I want from you?

Apparently I have been giving mixed signals at best, and no signals at worst, since we married. As if a sense of “we’ve got her, no need to put in any effort anymore” has become the norm. 

I don’t want that. But I also cannot, in true honesty, claim that I have been completely innocent of that accussation. 

As a partner, I have been taking you for granted. As a friend. As a woman, perhaps even as the mother to our child. It was never my intention, but it happened somewhere along the way. 

So what do I want from you?

It is difficult for me to feel what I feel, and what I want; I know that now. And such a big question deserves honest answers, so I will begin my search within here, on these virtual pages. 

I want, no, I need you to be ruthfully honest with me about my flaws and the things I need to improve. Especially when it hurts, because that means it is true and without you I would never have known or be confronted by that flaw or personal failure. 

I need to share laughs with you. Yes, it is a defense mechanism that at times prevents me from facing issues, but it is also my coping, our bond, and sometimes the only bright spot amongst the troubles. 

I want you to be proud of me. Of the husband I am, your lover, your friend. Proud of what I do to help you in ways both large and small, of what I do for others, of what I do for me. This is a selfish want, I will readily admit, and a lot of this is me needing to be proud of myself, but there are times when I feel that I disappointed you for reasons I cannot fathom, and it is the worst feeling I have had. I want to make you proud, I want to see the sparkle in your eyes when you look upon me. 

Which, I guess, is once again about me and what I need to do. Work for your love and affection. 

Once again I have turned myself around and not answered your question. Let me try again. 

I want you to kiss me back when we wake up and when we go to sleep.

I want you to feel pleasure from our intimacy, building up from experiences we both gain and from listening to each other. 

I want to share your joy and your pain. Your pleasure, your hurt, your sorrows, so that your pain lessens and your joy expands. 

I want to go out and do things together; hobbies, going to restaurants, visit museums, spend time both as a family and as a couple. 

You and me. Getting back to us, not just as parents or accidental roommates, but taking time for each other and bringing joy and light. 

And I realize that there is much to do on my part. 

I want to do this. I need to. For the sake of you, of me, and of us. 

Hearing you

Turn back the time 

To the days when 

Our love was new
Do you remember?

 - Relight my fire

Six years.

That is how long I have not posted on this blog; the place where I once promised to lay bare my soul so that a certain bird could read it, feel it, feed on it, and be inspired by it.

I starved her, and a rift grew between us that I now hope to bridge. Regrets or apologies are logical but unhelpful; the main thing is to return to this blog and restart with the input.

So here I am, and here you are, dear reader. Know that this is mainly for the attention of one person, but hopefully others find something of value within these writings.

To my wife, the solar bird; mother to our little white raven.

This is me, returning to our roots. Re-igniting the flames of our connection, hopefully granting you inspiration, insight, mayhap some lost passion.

The Magpie

Shiny shiny thing, the magpie covets you.

Sparkling in the sun, you catch the bird's beady eye and it snatches you away. Brings you to its nest, to admire, gaze, collect. The magpie is a fool for you.

For a long time, the bird adores you, gives you much attention, shows you off to its neighboring friends. Caresses, polishes, cares for you.

But then another sparkle meets its gaze, and off it flies. Drops you from its shadowy perch, to replace you with another gem.

Forgotten you lie in the mud, remembering happy days. 

Doubt

Here I am on my own new year's eve -- tomorrow my age will increase by one -- and I find myself pondering my life, and my relationship in particular.

My love for her is certain, yet doubts have crept inside my head; questions about the state of our alliance. Times have been tough and we have not been easy for one another. Misunderstandings, arguments, on the edge of seperation; I found myself at her mercy, uncertain whether she would want to continue.

When I finally, unwillingly, grudgingly, accepted the finality of our end, she surprised me by claiming she did, after all, want to go on with me. Overjoyed I was -- I am -- but also hurt; hearing her admit that she had, briefly, fallen for someone else. I know I should not feel second-best, but my emotions, once buried deep, can no longer be denied.

I do not blame her, for I was not there for her in the way that she needed me. What concerns me more, though, is that I am unsure whether this rift between us will mend. Certainly our psysical togetherness is beyond pleasurable, but all the copulation in the world cannot heal the hurt or cure the issues we still have.

Does the simple fact of falling for someone else not imply the poor state of our relationship?

Do I have confidence in us to overcome our misunderstandings, our arguments, our very different needs and wants? These issues have not been resolved; perhaps they will not ever be. The question I am asking myself, is whether I have faith that we can work it out.

I have no answers -- not yet, perhaps not for a long time.

Undragon

I am not a dragon.

The dragon was born as a way to impersonate my fears and the qualities that I admired, a shield to protect me from the world. And people loved it.

But it is not, nor will ever be, me.

I am just a scared little boy, trying hard to prevent the world from coming into my safe haven; keeping up the status quo, stopping myself from growing up, shutting everybody out.

And it's all crashing down around me.

Time to put the dragon to sleep, and step forward myself. Time to let the boy become a man. Finally.

There will be more words, explanations. But for now, this is the word, and the word is not dragon.

It is un-dragon.

Miss You

Fragile Love

I cannot shake the feeling that I’m losing you. And there is nothing I can do to prevent it.

I have hurt you in the past and even though time has passed, the wounds have not healed. Instead, you said that you could not count on me in the future and that you refuse to make plans for us together on the long term. That I am unpredictable in that sense.

That thought keeps spinning around in my head. How I cannot do anything about the pain, the mental scar, that I’ve given you. No time or love can make that right. Nothing I can do but hope.

It hurts, and frankly it has occupied my thoughts for the last few days. Because I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.

You, whose very presence makes my heart race and my day bright. The fiery bird I love spending lazy weekends with; just watching movies, playing games, cuddling and kissing, having funny conversations with animal noises. My kitten who knows where I’m ticklish, my tigress between the sheets.

I just hope, and pray, that our relationship will last.

Reflections

I have been watching you without words. Perhaps I was too mesmerized by your actions or perhaps I mistook my mere presence as enough, but without realizing it I became part of your background instead of your life.

Why is it that something must happen for me to see those errors? You pointed them out, said I did not respond to your blogs, I did not write about you, for you, anymore.

This is where I try to set it right. To break the cycle of inactivity and silence, of being but a reflection in the water instead of a whole person with whom you can talk and joke and love.

Because I want to be part of your life, sweet spider lady, and not just as a spectator. A participant in your moments of joy, a shoulder to cry on in moments of sorrow, an instigator of warm feelings in you.

I love you, my ladyfriend.

Interesting quotations

"When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down 'happy'. They told me I didn't understand the assignment, and I told them they didn't understand life."
- John Lennon

"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe."
- Albert Einstein

"My goal in life is to become as wonderful as my dog thinks I am."
- unknown

"True friends stab you in the front."
- Oscar Wilde

"Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it."
- Swedish proverb

"Without money we'd all be rich."
- unknown

"The future is not what it used to be."
- unknown

"Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are."
- Kurt Cobain

"People change. Now I'm a lamp."
- random idiot

Reflections

The Dragon looked behind, and looked ahead. "What now?" 
The Sea shrugged, and the Sky whispered, "Whatever."

Happy 2013, dear reader. May this year bring you joy and fortune.

When I was very young, I once read an article about a certain Mayan prediction about the end of the world in 2012. Easily frightened, I remembered that date and lived my life according to an idea, however ridiculous, that I would die in 2012.

Of course, common sense caught up with that idea and I knew for certain such a thing would not happen. But still, it was a relief when 2013 came around yesterday. Somehow my childhood fears are stronger than I thought.

Standing on the beach today, I realized that I had not made plans for beyond this moment. Big plans, I mean, like what my life would look like, whether I would have children; stuff like that. Today I realized that I have not looked beyond, and I found myself asking, What's next?

Obviously the sea, nor the sand, nor the clouds, answered. They care not about the choices of one person, and that was somehow comforting.

An overwhelming multitude of choices lays ahead of me. The universe offers, and all I need to do is decide.

Do I want to keep my current job, or go back to school?

Meditate on this, I will.

End of the World

So here we are, December 23rd 2012. Two days after the world was supposed to end, yet I still live and you do, too.

The world did not end. Or did it?

I turn on my television and I see a world in flames. Civil wars, polar ice melting, forests destroyed, oceans polluted, people wishing other people dead. Laws, rules and money are more important than people; lives are currency in a desperate attempt to preserve a status quo that has become the death of us all. The world is burning in the fires we create.

I once predicted the end of the Western world, but now I see that it is not just the West that is falling. It is the entire human civilization, and with it, Mother Earth.

I was mistaken - we were mistaken. The end has already come. The world is dead, and we are fighting over its carcass.

The New Age of the Mayas has come too late.

Funky Monk

Secret life of animals

Ode to naval rogues

The king and his men,
Stole the queen from her bed,
And bound her in her bones.
The seas be ours,
and by the powers,
Where we will, we'll roam.

Yo, ho, all hands,
Hoist the colours high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,
Never shall we die!

Yo, ho, haul together,
Hoist the colours high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,
Never shall we die!

Some men have died,
And some are alive,
And others sail on the sea
-- With the keys to the cage...
And the Devil to pay,
We lay to Fiddler's Green!

The bell has been raised
From its watery grave...
Do you hear its sepulchral tone?
A call to all,
Pay heed the squall
And turn your sail to home!

Yo ho, haul together,
Hoist the Colors high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,
Never shall we die!

Abort, Retry, Ignore -- Poe Puree

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over user guides and handbooks piled up on the desk and floor --
As I nodded, after nine or ten straight hours of design,
I finely drew the final line, then pulled a floppy out to store --
Locked and loaded, then, I saved, and waited for the disc to store;
Only this and nothing more.

Ah, distinctly I kept hearing such a sound it set me fearing,
Fearing as I sat there peering at the Saved Percentage score,
Fearing, as the disc kept turning, turning with a grinding, churning
Sound while I was yearning -- yearning as I'd never yearned before,
"Save!" I yearned again, but hopeless, read the words I'd feared before:
Read: "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

"What is this?" I barely muttered, "What's this message you have uttered,
Uttered as my floppy fluttered, fluttered locked inside your door?"
But there came no soothing voices helping me among these choices,
With these unfamiliar choices, just the cursor's either/or --
Just the cursor blinking, blinking for my choice of either/or
From "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

Much I marveled: this repeating cursor like a heartbeat beating
Answered nothing, thus defeating all attempts to re-explore
Whether I'd done something sloppy -- what had happened to that floppy
I'd inserted there to copy all the work I'd done before --
What had happened to the art, the artwork I had done before,
Before "Abort, Retry, Ignore."?

Art, not software, is my calling; it’s particularly galling
To be hesitating, stalling, stalling over one key more
When, instead of starkly staring, stunned, at high-tech so uncaring,
High-tech blindly overbearing, I could open up my drawer,
Get my low-tech colored pencils from their matching low-tech drawer
Beneath "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

But no, I had to get ambitious, buy some modern meretricious
Merchandise that leaves me vicious messages that seem to roar,
Well, not really roar, but tease, as, fingers trembling over keys,
I finally choose from one of these atrocious choices I abhor
A choice I know will be atrocious, one I finally must abhor
Among "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

No result! So twice as hard, to try and catch the thing off-guard,
I pressed, but still the same canard appeared until I nearly swore.
Frantically in desperation, pushing keys in combination,
Getting tintinabulation: "Beep beep beep", and nothing more,
Cacaphonous concatenation, "Beep beep beep", and nothing more;
Except "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

Then I thought I heard the thunder, felt the thunder rumble under,
Through, the floorboards, and no wonder! Lightning split the dark night's core!
Lightning piercing lightning slashing through the night like sword- wounds gashing
Darkness deeply, when my flashing cursor flashed! -- then flashed no more;
Flashed a final time and then -- erased itself to flash no more;
Erased "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

The lights went out, then came back on, and in the cold grey light of dawn
Profit and design were gone; gone, returning: nevermore --.
Gone my imitation Titian, like a ghost or apparition,
But gone as well the admonition I must choose and choose once more
Gone: the price of manumission from demands to choose once more
Among "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

Now my cursor still is blinking; is it winking? Yes! It’s winking! --
Winking at me from the screen beside the disc that wouldn’t store;
Winking at me from the black, though nothing else comes blinking back
Along the phosphorescent track that throws a shadow on the floor;
And my art, from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be found now -- nevermore!



Written by Marcus Bales: link

Some random things I wrote during class today

Random I

Roses are black
Violets are grey
The world lies in darkness
And I go away.

Random II

I blossom into the light
And enjoy the world of day
Flowers and colours around me
Oh how I wish that I could stay.


By the way, don't worry: I'm not all this gloomy. It is just that I feel that the darker side of life is much more interesting for artistic expression, don't you think?

Murder

If we believe that murder is wrong and not admissible in our society, then it has to be wrong for everyone, not just individuals but governments as well.
- Helen Prejean, Dead Man Walking

After all, every murderer when he kills runs the risk of the most dreadful of deaths, whereas those who kill him risk nothing except promotion.
- Albert Camus (1913-1960)


Osama Bin Laden is dead. Killed in a well-planned mission by people in uniforms, with permission from the American president.

Just in time for the re-election of Obama.

It is fitting how so many of the American people, those ignorant sheep, celebrate the death of the most famous terrorist in our lifetime. Justice, they say, and revenge. An eye for an eye.

And what does the world learn? Do other terrorists now tremble in fear and see the error of their ways? Do children in the Middle East now see the American Eagle as a gentle loving giant, or as an agressive tyrant with a lust for Arab blood?

Do not mistake my words; the terrors the now deceased bearded man has (supposedly) unleashed are worse than any words can describe. Hundreds, thousands have died and many more have suffered, all because of him.

But to celebrate the death of another human being? To become the killer of killers? Not only is it pointless, for there will always be more killers, but it is also immoral.

To say that murder is wrong, and then to kill any who commit it -- such is arrogance and hypocrisy.

Mourn the dead, and seek to find true justice instead.

XP Hunters

Never split the party