You Guest Right!

Hello, you amazing Randoom people!

  I am both flabergasted and fascinated at how fast we've come to arrive here.

If any of you had a great time at a 12-12-12 party, I'm jealous because I totally forgot.

That's right, you can mark it down on your calendar that I, Shockgrubz, forgot to celebrate something.
Don't fret, I had a great time, whatever it was that I was doing.

Speaking of doing, I once spoke a promise to several people of providing a little guest post.

I've done it. Well, some of them. First up is Workingdan, Gluttondan, er, Dan from Shamefulpromotions.com and Sinquiry. If you don't know him, and never visited his site, do so now. If you don't, or are just waiting until you finish my post,I'll tell you that he's a great guy who represents life's joys and struggles in a very theraputic and fun-lovng way. I'dswear he and I were best friends in a previous life, if we existed previously. If so, I hope I came through on every promise I gave him then, as well.

I've procrastinated and procrastinated with the guest post enough that I'm fairly sure that he would take me off of the wall of shame.Hell, I remember him threatening to do so once in some comedic or serious extent. I'm amazed he's as patient as I am. I never thought I'd see the day I found someone with the same slow spirit of stubbornness and resilient poise that I exude, just like some thought they'd never see the guest post. I doubted myself at one point, creating elaborate excuses for the missing text. In the creation of some of those, I found that therapy was the theme.



 The particular piece was written through both fictional and non-fictional sources. I took experiences from a previous relationship to set the scenes. I had a girlfriend who was dying of cancer. Her previous lover had suddenly left her once the news of her terminal prognosis set in. I showed up in her life and became a shining beacon of eternal youth in a time of depressing reality.  She helped foster my artistic side, and treated all of my works with the utmost respect and accurate critisism.

 Near the end of our relationship, her previous lover had found life without her suddenly harsh and returned with his tail between his legs. I could not compete with the amount of history that he had with her, and although I did fight and cry to have her keep me, I lost her. She died a year later, leaving her newly wed husband and two kids from previous marriages to pick up the pieces. I found out of her eventual demise not long after, and  in the greiving process set a seed for this story.

 It deals with lovers, hair, secrets, and grief therapy. I took liberties to include my ever-so obvious obsession with onomatopoeia because I'm shamelessly proud of noises, and I am submitting this to Shameless Productions, after all. Please have a look.

  Inamorata

 I also promised Mark from The Rambling Person a guest post. I said it might be NSFW, but it ended up being SFW because I'm a chicken.

 Anyway, I really like Mark and his Immortal Space story is one of my favorites. Have a visit, and I dare you to like him and his ramblings as much as I do.

  Mark and I both the affinity for Sci-Fi in common, so I penned a little tale with some futuristic, but realistic elements.


 Shaze's Day at the Grocery


  Shaze is a twenty-five year old man who has shunned the traditional way of life for a more survivalist/slacker lifestyle. Although  his days aren't dictated by a 'boss', he still has to stand in state-aide lines and subject himself to the body of governmental medical  aid. In obtaining food assistance, Shaze checked a box labeled "Experimental Allowance" that was hidden on the back of the fifth page of the application. He did not keep reading the fine print after he saw that it would give him an additional fifty dollars a month for  food. If he would have kept going, he would have found out that he just waived his right to modify his own body. His body belonged to   the government, and to prove it, they inserted an RFID chip in his finger to make him one of the first in the experimental aide group.

   His finger had healed up and he had mostly forgot about the little encapsulated chip in his finger when he went to sleep the day before the seventh. His food aide came on the seventh and he couldn't wait to eat, so he dreamt of gorging on platters of the best bounties.
 
    *
 
    *

 I've also found that I am migrating OS and graphics programs. This is a jarring change, but has to happen before 12-21-12(FRIDAY!).  I'm now using Blender instead of CorelDream3d. The previous program was written and sold in 1997, so I was very overdue in changing Blender is  a very technical graphics suite , even more so than my old clunky program. My coding friend had suggested Blender this summer, and I told him I'd look it up. That ended up being a lot later. I don't know why I don't rush my searches for change, maybe stubborness. I ended up searching for "3d Sculpting" and it was on the front page. My first impression was "Why didn't I know about this sooner?" Probably because I hadn't searched before or listened to my friend.


 I'm in love with the program, but I'm also very challenged.  One of my issues is the very high learning curve. There are so many menus, sub-menus, tweaks, adjustments, bells and whistles that I don't know what to make from a lot of the program, but I'm picking it up in pieces at a time.

  Not to say I'm not practicing. I logged my practice hours in the week I've been working with it and it adds up to 80 hours. In a week?  Did I tell you I love this program already? 80 hours is proof. Also writing this post on the imbedded text editor is proof. I'll get  better, soon. I'll share my progress with you.

   Also, I'm jumping out of my OS portal to Linux. I've needed this change for a very long time. I was scared of terminal.  I don't know why, I used to enjoy the stuffing out of old MS-Dos, why wouldn't I hug up to a cute little penguin? Because windows spoiled me. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. If I were forced to go to a command prompt before going into the GUI, then I wouldn't be so scared of the change. I've faced my fears enough to load a version of linux on a flash drive and test out the OS without
   fully migrating. I like it, but I've got to practice more to put it on my hard drive.
 
   This post is getting way long, so I'll say good-bye for now. If we survive the 12-21-12 I'll be partying like it was 12-20-21, and toasting to you!
 
 
 
 
 
   TL;DR
 
   Guest post for Working/Glutton/Dan- Inamorata*link to  be included after publishing
 
   Guest post for Mark- Shaze's Day at the Grocery
 
   Blender-I got it. I love it.
 
   Linux- I got it. Learning to love it.

Randoom Milestone 200th Reader and Growth By Numbers!

I rendered this one to be huge because 200 is huge to me.

I've grown, thanks to you. P-A-R-T-Y time! No better way to enjoy the time between holidays than to toot a horn.

 The distinction of my growth goes to all of you. The latest of which is Blogger World Directory. The timing could not be more perfect, with the world and blogger both changing at about the same pace(which is dreadfully/thankfully faster than my own pace).

 Sometimes I visit Randoom's statistics to check how it's progressing. After doing so recently, I decided to categorize my blog by popularity in views, +1's, and comments.

 My most searched and viewed post is the one where I review a short movie from another country. 469 views in 6 months.

 I'm glad to be this small and a random blog to boot, but this seemingly tiny three digit number is telling me something. It tells me that I can get a moderate amount of traffic by doing more of those same types of posts. Taking the screenshots and posting them to describe the action is what caused the bulk of the search traffic, so I'll do the same for the other shorts. I'll try to find the gems of different countries and review them. If at all possible, I will see if there are ways to post the whole short to the post.

 There are a total of six plus-one'd posts that someone has deemed worthy of being in a positive state. After filtering them, I see that they all contain something created from me to interact with or otherwise honor others. 6 +1's.

 The most commented post is where I discuss a previous position I held in life. This area may provide more fruit as I have held many different types of positions in life, and can afford advice to all who may walk that same trek. 93 comments


 If we all survive the Mayan calendar debacle, then you shall see this grubz shine. Even if all meet our end on 12-21-12, I would have provided those who I've promised guest posts their due reward. That's right, next post will feature a guest post link!

  Until next time, be good or at least be good at it!

Updates and Dancing

So, now it's almost Thanksgiving and I don't have a post in November. I'm really slacking. I'm usually flaky, but this is even out of range for me. I've worked on a few things in the interim. I've outlined my Sci-Fi story, designed the outlying frame of a quadcopter, and danced, danced, danced.

 I love dancing. For some strange reason, when I dance, I feel like it has a Moonwalker effect and becomes contagious enough for others to join in. If I'm in the wrong place when I dance, there's bound to be heaps of trouble. Some bad dance spots:

 Doing the Samba in line for social services.

 This is bad because most queues for government handouts include some of the worlds most clumsiest dancers. Most have excuses for bumping the ticket dispenser off it's hinges, but even those without excuses don't have room enough to shake their money makers correctly.

Swing dancing in the grocery store.

 Squeezing the melons may be against the rules in a grocery, but so should swing dancing. First, there's the lack of room. The only spot that would even allow a front-to-back twirling transfer is the produce section. Even then, the bag rollers end up catching on the dancer's feet, wrapping their tootsies in polyethylene film.

Pop and Locking in Jail.

 If you're unlucky enough to get to spend the night in the pokey, the robot will not make your slumber any better. Your display of joint manipulation turns into a showcase of double-jointedness and ambidexterity that only enrages the not-so-skilled cellmates. They cry and moan in thier attempts to move their gangly limbs in effort to make them look dislocated. When failing, they end up doing the dislocation the old fashioned way. Pop!

The whirling dervish whirl on a rollercoaster.

 Those security bars they tighten down are there for a reason. Too keep you from whirling around and infecting the other passengers with the dance bug. If everyone were to be able to have the joy of dancing while enjoying the exhilaration of the ride, then everyone aboard would perish from too much fun. Can't have people dying that way, nope.

 So, there you have it. It's not much, but I'm sorry. I would also be apologetic for the ad, but I love shoes and have just been accepted to opt-in to the affiliate spots. In their appropriate use, I hope to get enough for a device that will allow me to update far more often.

 Have a great day, and I hope to read and comment on a few of your blogs before my battery goes kaput.

A Randoom Halloween Mystery

 Greetings, fellow bloggers! It is I, Shockgrubz, who bring you a mystery filled with sorrow and intrigue. This time of the year, things go bump in the day as well as the night. Here's the set up.

 A few years ago I was searching around on a database of unsolved crimes. I'm not sure whether my investigative mind or my lack of funds was the motivator in looking, but in any case, I delved into one that was near my location and over ten years old.

 A woman who worked at a local school was coming home from the grocery store one fall evening. Her attacker came for her as she was unloading the bags of food. He shot her and fled.

 That is the whole account. No description of the shooter at all. I had nothing to go on, so I thought of what I could do.

 I'd dabbled in photography and spirits both separately before, but this time I decided to mix them together to see what I could find out.

 I went to the building to take a few hundred snaps. The structure was foreboding on that winter day. From the ground, the five stories seemed like ten, looking through the viewfinder of my camera. I chose my shots to include as many windows as possible. I thought that I'd capture a clue there.

 After checking only a few of the pictures, my eyes started glazing over and I would close the photo editor. Minutes later I would remember having closed it and not realized why. Then I would open it back up. This happened seven times before I left the whole thing alone for a long time.

 Until yesterday. I wanted to make a nice Halloween picture to put on my blog. I remembered the creepy feelings I got when I took a pic of the windows at that building and started messing around with it.

 I must describe how I messed with it, because of the shapes in the windows. They were there before I did any editing of the picture. I selected a box within each window and messed around with the colors. That brought out the shapes you see, that were already there, just blended with the colors before the edit. Before I discuss what I think each window holds, I'll put the picture here.

 Through the first window, we see the woman, possibly in a flowing nightgown. Here is where my perception might stray a bit from yours. I see her chewing on a balding man's ear while the man is holding a rapier between his teeth. I cannot for the life of me discern what this would mean in relation to the initial crime, but the ghosts hardly ever give hard-line clues.

 The middle window contains an imp of immense destructive power. From far away he looks kind of cuddly, like an ewok, but get up close and you see his three faces. Each one laughing, grimacing, or howling with maniacal laughter. His presence was there the day of the shooting, I'm sure of it.

 The final(rightmost) window seems empty, which is what I come up with when trying to pinpoint the killer. I may never get to give that woman's family closure, or obtain a reward for my investigative fruits, but we can be sure of one thing. It makes for some good RANDOOM mystery!

 What do you see in the windows?

An Award For You

 I've created a graphic in appreciation of your readership.

 The Diamond Flower award.

 It's a super durable, sweet smelling, shiny graphic for you to use and display at your discretion.

It's probably way truncated, but my battery is dying. I'm trying to get a new electronic device so I can have a much longer web presence.Hopefully a tablet, I like those.

Where I Play Around With My Name

 In honor of imaginary characters giving way to real-life counterparts I have fancied myself a master of nomenclature* for a few  moments in hopes that it may amuse you.

 Shock-

The noun shock has 9 senses (first 6 from tagged texts)
                                          
1. (6) daze, shock, stupor -- (the feeling of distress and disbelief that you have when something bad happens accidentally; "his mother's death left him in a daze"; "he was numb with shock")
2. (2) shock, impact -- (the violent interaction of individuals or groups entering into combat; "the armies met in the shock of battle")
3. (2) electric shock, electrical shock, shock -- (a reflex response to the passage of electric current through the body; "subjects received a small electric shock when they made the wrong response"; "electricians get accustomed to occasional shocks")
4. (1) shock -- ((pathology) bodily collapse or near collapse caused by inadequate oxygen delivery to the cells; characterized by reduced cardiac output and rapid heartbeat and circulatory insufficiency and pallor; "loss of blood is an important cause of shock")
5. (1) shock, seismic disturbance -- (an instance of agitation of the earth's crust; "the first shock of the earthquake came shortly after noon while workers were at lunch")
6. (1) shock, blow -- (an unpleasant or disappointing surprise; "it came as a shock to learn that he was injured")
7. shock -- (a pile of sheaves of grain set on end in a field to dry; stalks of Indian corn set up in a field; "corn is bound in small sheaves and several sheaves are set up together in shocks"; "whole fields of wheat in shock")
8. shock -- (a bushy thick mass (especially hair); "he had an unruly shock of black hair")
9. shock absorber, shock, cushion -- (a mechanical damper; absorbs energy of sudden impulses; "the old car needed a new set of shocks")


 The first sense of the noun shock with daze and stupor included equals my feeling when I had learned that my younger brother fell.

 The second sense of the noun shock has happenned many times in my dreams. I coordinate a shock battle that lasts mere seconds but affects centuries.

 The third sense of the noun shock reminds me of my days as a conductor. I was the longest running champion of holding on to the shock box in shop class.

 I know the fourth sense of the noun shock by memory . Once oxygen is depleted from the system, it takes a while to normalize. I've had the pleasure to go into shock from physical labor as well as traumatic experience. Both are very taxing, but survivable.

 I've had the fifth sense of the noun shock move the a whole house when I was inside. It was a siezmic shock, but it really felt like a vehicle ramming a wall.  Being from an earthquake free area, I was shocked to see that there was no vehicle parked in the wall as I surveyed the damage.

 I distinctly remember feeling the sixth sense of the noun shock when I ran into a a special aquaintance of mine years after we had said goodbye. She was so beautiful, and I was so changed. I was very shocked when she did not remember me. Maybe she lied, but when I mentioned her family, her shocked reaction to knowledge of her kin by a seeming stranger seemed genuine.

 Ah, the seventh sense of shock is a gathering of grain on end. I feel that if I were a grain and someone plucked me from my ground and stood me on end in a pile with all of my neighbor grains that I would be shocked into believing that I would want to be eaten. Trickery, even in the vegetable world can be so shocking.

 The eighth sense of the noun is a shock of hair. Well, the text states 'especially hair', so it could be something else.  I've dined on some thick, bushy hashbrowns before. Does that mean I grubbed on a shock? I've promised myself no cannibalism, so I'll leave that one alone until the next meal.

 The ninth and final sense of the noun shock is for a shock absorber. Something in this word has a dampening effect. It's fitting for the final sense to buffet some of the sudden impact of the word's previous senses.

 

 Grub

The noun grub has 2 senses (first 2 from tagged texts)
                                           
1. (1) chow, chuck, eats, grub -- (informal terms for a meal)
2. (1) grub -- (a soft thick wormlike larva of certain beetles and other insects)

The verb grub has 2 senses (no senses from tagged texts)
                                         
1. mooch, bum, cadge, grub, sponge -- (ask for and get free; be a parasite)
2. grub -- (search about busily)


  I prefer the first sense of the noun grub to any other word for eats, for it is almost a meal in itself. To say the word "grub" is to commit to only one syllable and vowel. The action of the compound at the beginning and the soft ending makes "grub" a word equivalent to a nibble. Speaking it a few times in a row both satiates my desire for nourishment and makes me hungry at the same time. Such power in a single syllable can only be held by the word "grub".

  The second sense of the noun grub is where my mind goes when I want to display this imaginary character for you in pixels. If I knew all the types of beetles and other insects that a grub could be I might be a little more specific on what kind of shockgrub I am. But since I have little knowledge past what a grub feels like when popped into the gullet like popcorn chicken, I will refrain from picking a specific species for now

 I did not know that the first sense of grub as a verb is mooch. I've heard of money-grubbers, so maybe that's where the term comes from. I have never heard the word 'cadge'. The first chance I get to use it correctly, I will. I'll probably be describing myself(like this whole post).

 So, with the second sense of the verb grub meaning to busily search, I am astounded at the amount of grubbing that actually goes on daily. Even if I only look at myself, sometimes I have fifteen google searches in tabs. Yeah, I grub that hard.


 Z-

 The noun z has 2 senses (no senses from tagged texts)
                                            
1. omega, Z -- (the ending of a series or sequence; "the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end"--Revelation)
2. Z, letter z, zee, zed, ezed, izzard -- (the 26th letter of the Roman alphabet; "the British call Z zed and the Scots call it ezed but Americans call it zee"; "he doesn't know A from izzard")


 The reason I end the name in a 'Z' is because it sounds nice on the end. The first sense of the noun Z is a representation from a book that was not a dictionary. Funny how the letter got named afterwards.

 The letter being the second sense of the noun Z is intriguing indeed. I had no idea that it was even spoken differently amongst the english speaking countries. Zee fits and doesn't even need to be three letters. We could change it to Zi, and it would have a dashing quality. But Zed and Izzard? That sounds like a pair of really cool literary characters, not representations of a single character at the end of the roman alphabet. To each their own, I guess.

 I'm now finished playing around with my name. Maybe now I can grub on another shock of hashbrowns  before I catch some zzz's.

 *I am not a master of nomenclature, but I use WordNet Browser 2.1 from Princeton University Cognitive Science Lab to someday become one

Gratitude

 For reading, commenting, and being a part of this Randoom blog. I am not very good at catching up, but I'm improving.

 Thanks for the 15k views. I thought I'd put my 200 followers post up before this, but a milestone races at it's own pace.

 So, before my battery dies and I cannot get a signal, I'll leave you to find some other grand Randoomness.

 P.S. I'm voting for Stein and Honkala. I admire anyone who's willing to protest against banks and foreclosures and go to jail for it. The first jailbird president, let's do it!

Desktop Wallpaper

For Free! Public Domain and Creative Commons rejoice!

Something I came up with a while back.

Free Idea for the taking!

 I'm an idea man. I'm also at zero for selling my ideas.

 I once told someone I had admired an idea that I had come up with. He had secured over two dozen of his own patents and was famous in my eyes for doing so. He said that my idea was novel with a british smile. I thanked him before he proceeded to admonish me for doing such a foolish act,

  "Young man, NEVER tell someone else your idea without securing it yourself!" His English accent showing disdain for my being foolish enough to let an idea slip from my lips.

  I don't own an idea. Even one I pretend to have originated in my head is but an already existing part of the eternal wavelength. Intellectual property to me is of the same realm of that of the physical kind. Out of reach by choice.

  I cannot do a kickstarter by myself for several reasons, or excuses, however you want to look at it. There are peope making money from ideas every day. The money generated can start more Kickstarters and be given to charity to grow an abundance of wealth for the right reasons.

 $250 is the minimum donation goal with two weeks being the least . These are a few of my latest(thought up just now) ideas.


 A novelty collar that translates your pets barks, meows, or chirps into jokes from your favorite local celebrity.

Cost- 175.

 Normal animal collar/harness - $5 to $30.  This is an important part. It must be sturdy enough to support the speech detection and translation unit and be comfortable enough for the pet. You get what you pay for. For the five, the material will snag, and tear within a month. For the thirty, it'll be usable in that many years.

 Translation unit. $9.

 This is a peizo speaker connected to an array of circuits that close circuit only when a sound is made to depress a thin film on the opposite side. Through gates, the charge travels to one of fifteen different pre-recorded voice performances of five to seven seconds in length.

  Voice talent $0 to Millions.

  So. You either have a friend or five in the industry or you're really good at imitations. If not, you must hire someone to do it. I do not know the going rates, but these celebrities are easy to imitate.

Male:

 Donald Trump
 Sylvester Stallone
 Arnold Swartzennegger
 Groucho Marx
 Richard Nixon

Female:

 Joan Rivers
 Zha Zha Gabor
 Sarah Palin
 Shirley Temple-Black
 Julie Kavner(Marge from The Simpsons)


Note: This is a conceptual phase. To actually set this up for a kickstarter, you have to do a video about the object and layout goals and rewards. That takes time and even more ideas. If this one is good, it'll spawn even more ideas.

 So even if I can't capatilize on my own thoughts through kickstarter, you may! Build upon these as you would write a novel from seeing some chimpansee's handwriting.

Shock's Summer Reading Pt. 2

Okay, where were we? Oh. More of the novels I've enjoyed over the summer.

Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell

 I cannot pin down my fascination with English authors. It may be partly due to my desire to feel closer to my ancestors, which many come from England. Or it could just be that they are the masters and I am drawn to them in their immense capacity to captivate any audience.

 The book itself was a gift from a friend who knows my situation. I am homeless, but not without shelter. This book deals with situations I have faced, and some that I have not.

 He spins stories within stories, even in the beginning. At the front of the novel, a character by the name of Charlie is introduced. Charlie looks and sounds like a child, but is very far from one in age. The stories he tells would make gentlemen and ladies blush alike, but they are a fun read.

 Within the pages, Orwell skirts the subject of changing language, one of which I am always fascinated by. Here is an excerpt from page 176:

 " The Cockney accent as we know it seems to have come up in the 'forties (it is first mentioned in an American book, Herman Melville's White Jacket), and Cockney is already changing; there are few people who now say 'fice' for 'face', 'nawce' for ' nice' and so forth as consistently as they did twenty years ago. The slang changes together with the accent. Twenty-five or thirty years ago, for instance, the 'rhyming slang' was all the rage in London. In the 'rhyming slang' everything was named by something rhyming with it- a 'hit or miss' for a kiss, 'plates of meat' for feet, etc. It was so common that it was even reproduced in novels; now it is almost extinct. Perhaps all the words I have mentioned above will have vanished in another twenty years."

 The lead character is never named, but it is not needed, as the richness within the supporting characters defines the book, not the un-named subject.

 I'll loan this book to anyone who has worked a 16-hour day just to do it again. They would know what it is to be a plongeur.

The Symbolism of Freemasonry by Albert G. Mackey

 Although I'm not a mason, I feel a kind of kinship with those of the secret brotherhood. I claim to have knowledge beyond this world, and if there's any group who would share this knowledge, it's the freemasons. I dove head-first into this book after I shucked all of my preconceptions away. That's pretty difficult to do, but it pays off in the end.
 Mackey lays down the structure of Freemasonry by giving a brief history and a few precursory lessons for the uninitiated. Those prove useful throughout the book because he refers back many times.

 Although I did not divine the location of the Ark of the Covenant by the containing explanations inside this book, I still had a good time learning through it.

Anatomy of a Park  by Donald J. Molnar, ASLA with Albert J Rutledge, ASLA

 This text-book formatted gem is written for the everyday user of a park as well as lead designer. The contents are well defined and carry the reader through the critiquing process of existing sites as well as looking at and interpreting design plans.

 One of the greatest things I have gotten from this book is the 'multi-use' theory that takes a structure or area that has a downtime and figures a way to create a complementary function for when it's not in use. In other words, mostly everything in here is functional, even down to the handy-dandy soil charts in the appendix. It is indexed rather well, also.


A Not So Singular World by Patrick Hatt

 This book is a hilarious romp that explores the hidden entities among the currently living. Jeremiah, with his main pal and companion, Orlin, (A giant leapord-like Savannah cat) get mixed up into something very strange one day when Jeremiah sees things that are very out of the ordinary.

 Without spoiling the book for you, (because you know you want to buy it and read it for yourself after this good review) I will let you know that the novel is full of fun, quirky moments and a cast of characters that will leave you clutching your stitched sides in laughter.

 Reading this has gotten me closer to understanding some of the characters in the cat's rhymes on Pat's blog:
It's Rhyme Time.

 I close with a picture and a hope that I will get to a connection later to comment and such.

Shock's Summer Reading

Hey! My scheduled post went out successfully, so I can set up more like that one.

 Unfortunately, I cannot schedule comments to your pages. If I could, I'm not sure they'd be understandable or pertain to the post at all. Ether way, I will find time and a better wi-fi to re-connect and catch up with all that I've missed.

 Without wifi, I read. A lot. It's to be for your benefit, though. Knowledge is only power through the use of another faculty to serve others, I always say.

 That said, this post is titled "Shock's Summer Reading" because I'm a little late on the book reports. Here is the list of recently devoured word entrees.

My Novel or Varieties in English Life by Edward Bulwer Lytton. Published 1836.

 This was a six-hundred page beast. It was the first of three works in the Bulwer's Works Vol. III.

 To write a review on this book would take a more than a post, so I'll leave this one to be described later. I loved it!

 Zicci by Edward Bulwer Lytton. Published 1836.

 A much more digestable forty-five page tale about an ageless mystic who's part of a secret immortal society. The inclusion of a serum made from both synthetic and homeopathic sources was the fountain of youth. The Mystic, Zicci drank this bubbly green stuff and went out to find either love or another recruit for his eternal brotherhood. The character himself does the most mysterious things to lure both a woman and a man to seek his definite being. Should either attain the knowledge? Only I know, hahaha.

 The Essential Rumi translated by Coleman Barks with John Moyne, A.J. Arberry, and Reynold Nicholson. Copyright date: 1995.

 I hadn't really focused on any one individual from Rumi's era(1207 to1248), nor any one from Persia in history. Noting the gap in my knowledge, I snapped this random pick up as soon as it showed it's graceful self to me.

 Rumi, (Jellaluddin Balkhi, to some), became a writer of poetry of the most spiritual kind. I had no idea that he was so large in academic circles, most likely due to my lack of academic credentials. But no matter, I dove into the spiritual messages beak first.

 This guy is timeless. He made sure by broaching subjects that no one else would touch. He wrote a parable about a woman who does something very wrong with a gourd. When someone from the thirteenth century A.D. gets me to say "Yuck" aloud, I pay attention.

 The sensational style of shocking people doesn't stop with just vege/animal love, he seems to revel in the blashempy of fictional accounts of both Jesus and Muhammad.

 How wild it was for me today to hear of the Bicile' movie making a big stink in the world to cause deaths over a depiction of Muhammed.

This guy was doing this over seven hundred years ago, and not only did he peeve off the muslims, the christians somehow allowed him to live out his life.

note to self, "If you are a great dancer, poet, and spiritual guru, you will not die in the hands of extremists."

 So, I've got the poet and dancing stuff down. Now for spirituality. I've got eons, but it won't be easy.

The Messie Motivator by Sandra Felton

 I'm actually not reading this book just for myself. I'm reading it because I am in a long line of Messies. That's what the author calls hoarders. That's what
the hoarders in the book call themselves.

 The book is full of positivity and tips to de-clutter and organize not only a life, but a self dignity in shambles.

 In an example of her dignity-saving activities is telling people who are being disrespectful off in an even tone.

 From experience, I know that even tones are not effective alone. If I were to have a regular place, I would be a hoarder.

 But I do not have one, therefore my hoards end up being just tiny parcels seperated by miles. I still need work, but this book is very social. I'm not too social, and would not attend a meeting with other Messies. In that, the program would work for me only in the tips and self-help categories.

 The Survivor Bill Clinton in the White House by John F. Harris.

 This was a pleasure to read because I was fascinated with the many aspects of the president himself and his office. This intimate collection of mixed personal accounts and recollections from his staff made reading it fascinating.

 I voted for him in his first term. I know Elliot will hate me for saying that, but I retort with my current status as Green Party enthusiast.*

 If you're a member of any party and share their views(platform), you're partisan. Sorry, without seperation into these rival groups, there's no way to achieve any goal on any groups agenda.

 I've diverged. The book was finishable, but I was left without the true answer I was looking for when reading it.

I've decided to clip this into two more digestible pieces. The second includes Pat Hatt's A Not So Singular World, so stay tuned for more!

*edited for grammar

Leader at age 6

The principal and teachers were hearding forty-five of us first graders to the gymasium. Rey-hey, the mixed aisan/american indian boy ahead of me said there was to be ''equipment' there. Athough I didn't have a clue as to what it meant, I felt an exciting rush of anticipation rise within myself.

 A change had come over me, just from hearing and dwelling on a word I didn't know. I had heard the word before, but never had I experienced this feeling of exilhiration and immense newness. I looked around to see if any of my classmates were sensing this grand feeling as I was. Not one had even a pleasing countanance, let alone an positive expression upon their face.

  I was gliding along the hall, floating among the tiny marching tots toward the gymnasium. A couple of students had to be wrangled before we were all corralled into the gym. I felt as a giant amidst ants. I wanted to express this at once, but became awed at the presence of the 'equipment'.

 At the left side of the basketball court stood an aparatus that was foriegn to every single one of us. I knew this because when the teacher asked "Who wants to go first?", not a hand was raised but mine. Her next word was just "Go!".

  Within miliseconds, my mind had made itself up to what to do. I was not controlling my body, but aware of what was going on. From the right side of the court, my hands went flat and to my side as my hips dropped and turned away from the equipment. My head went down as I applied the momentum to my legs. I saw the reflection of surprised faces in the shiny wood as I ran in an arc that could have been drawn with a mathmetician's compass.

 My run was coming to an end. I raised my head, compressed my body before pivoting and hurling myself backward over the bar and landing onto the cushy mat on the other side.

 "Puffff" was the sound of the air releasing from the mat. It echoed in my ears as applauds from the loudest crowds in the collesium. As I rose, the cheers of my classmates were hushed by the next question from the teacher.

 "Who wants to go next?".

 Every hand went up but mine.

The Stick

 He saw the branch sitting on the fence as if Nature herself had placed it there for human use.

 It was of a wood that wasn't native of the area. It stood as tall as a man on end.  He touched the shaft to check it's strength. After confirming the branch to be sturdy, his fingers ran along the tines that branched off in a curving pattern, begetting yet more tines of the same nature.

 Immediately, he understood to sweep. Sweep the earth.

 He didn't ask, "Why?", he just enjoyed the task for it's own reward. As the unique tool did an equally unique form of sweeping, the sweeper began thinking in unique ways.

 He held it in two hands, the right most forward on the shaft, a foot and a half below the curving bunches of tines. With the left hand on the end of the tool, it rotated to whip the ends along the dirtplane. Rocks, quarts and igneous, were hurled sideways along with flurries of blown decayed leaves.

 The sound made from the whipping, thumping, and stratching of the earth with the natural implement was a music that caused syncronisation and collaboration from the birds and aphids.

 Thwaooshtcchhh!

 With each rotation of the branch he swept away his cares.

 First was his tangled bonds with the outside world, they faded past the background of dust as he swept.

 Second, he lost connection with all other living beings in the universe. Their light was diminished in the sparkles of unearthed crystal.

 After being alone with himself, doing this unknowledgable task, he then let go of his own identity.

 Free of ego, he became both the stick and the propellants it brought to life from the dirt.

 Crystals kissing in mid-air make the most undescribable sound as he became that vibration along with the others along the arc.

 He was transformed into a discarded rivet as well as several thousand abandoned snail shells.

 His presence also inhabited the bones of a baby bird that had fallen out of the nest in the last storm.

 Once all particles of his being had traveled from their sleeping graves to their new awakened home, he surveyed the scene.

 The yard was speckled with platinum, gold, silver, and yttrium.

 Flowers of solid air began to emerge from the glittery ground and cry diamond dust.

 He knelt and cupped his hands to collect the brilliant liquid.

 Bringing the dazzling refreshment to his lips, he laughed as it all dissapeared, leaving him with nothing but a clean yard and a stick-broom in his hand.

 He placed the branch back on the fence and thanked Nature.

Sometimes math just hurts my head.

But other times it tickles my cerebellum like a feather duster swatting my neck's tiny hairs. 

One such day, when numbers were making me smile, I made this:.

Which was a reminder to me about the 6 things I needed to do the next day.

After getting five of them done, I thought it was easy sailing.

Sometimes the wind does not blow.

It ceases motion to leave you with yourself.

to ponder the roads yet traveled.

When numbers cursed me for a spell, I countered with this:

The eye blinks, and the dragon flaps away.

Bound toward a shared destination

of optimism and treasure.

I'm a kook, it's true. But sometimes kooks are useful. I'm bound to prove it someday,

or die trying.

Awards After a Brief Apology

Dear readers of this stagnant blog,

 I make the most humble and brief apologies for my absence. I have vacated my previous cush existence in favor for the life of struggle.Unfortunately, the struggles I endure include being without a wi-fi signal. So all of those transient ideas have been squandered to the vast expanses of the universe, never to be organized so well upon these beautiful, yet under-maintained pages.

 I pretend not to romance you, dear readers. For the sense of that verb is very decieving. It means to flirt. I 'flirted' with the idea of a college career. That was a tease to my intelligence as well as my wanderlust. Alas, circumstances that seem to be guided by the hand of fate have dictated that it is not the sterile classroom that I shall attend, but to continue my seat at the school of hard knocks. Never before has it knocked me into the next plane, but it won't scare me into going there willingly.

 I have been rather flaky, but I am here now. I have promised writings to those that I prize here.

 Two awards have been given to me in this great absence. One was the wonderful Kreativ award from one of my favorite bloggers,  Sabrina from Pouffia.

 I love her, so I will comply with the 11 random things, however, just like the word "Kreativ" I will pretend to  make something new with the rules and tag people through telepathy.

 1. I'm a raindancer. Although my skill is high in bringing the rain down, I only do so when I'm in a mood for the wet stuff.

 2. The latest book I've read was "My Novel" by First Baron Lyton. It was very interesting and I've enjoyed taking time thinking back how everything used to be different, but almost eerily similar to our own days.

 3. No matter how many premonitions I've had, I can't tell the future. Just as my genius fell short with 'gifted', my psychic powers have been given to me by the most frugal metaphysical genie. His folly was giving me the foresight to see that I am to be a very influential person, or a homeless bum.

 4. Comedy seeks me. I can be anywhere and find a laugh. Unfortunately, some of those times come during funerals, surgery, or in the serious stage of the bedroom.

5. I'm writing a story. It's science fiction, but it has a very strong moral message that society deals with every day; how to punish evil-doers and vindicate the sorrows of the victim. Pretty hefty stuff, I don't pretend to wish a few rivers of tears to flow due to my heartfelt story.

6. Life still amazes me. Although I am a very jaded and cynical person at times, there's always that clear breeze that wafts the dust away from the horizon to show me the "LARGE" picture. As many times as I've gazed upon portions of the 'real universe', I'm as awed as the first time I've ever looked upon the universe as a whole.

7. I can argue with a fly. My debating skills are so honed, that sometimes I end up starting a heated discussion of differences without even knowing it. Once I've realized that I'm headed for an undesired conflict, I tend to defer or agree to stop further heating due to my wild views.

8. Video games are my bane. I love them, always have since the early days of the moving pixel. I hate them, because they relay to me, just in their existence, that we as a species are never going to be happy with what we have. Once we obtain the 'next best', it is still not the best.

9. I'm terribly unpredictable. I'd look up to this attribute more if I were to make my spontaneity work for me, but usually it ends up causing hitches in the most troublesome of places.

10. I've once won 1500 dollars in one week with three separate dollar bets. The game was to pick three numbers. I was reading an anthology at the time and for some reason I decided to record every page number that ended a story. After that, I went further to even memorize those last pages. I chose the last page of a story to choose as my first of three bets. The moment I chose to purchase the ticket was 7:59, and wouldn't you know it, that was the page number I had chosen earlier in the day.

 The next day, after cashing in the ticket, I went home to pick another page. I did so, but this time I chose to confirm it by taking a deck of cards with the faces and jokers taken out and randomly picking three. Once again, the cards were the same as the page numbers, and I won. The next time I chose another page. I won. The luck ended there, but even without the money I had realized a technique that some authors use when writing a short story. The ones I chose seemed to be written backwards, like the author had written the ending before starting the beginning. It's kind of weird that I could glean that from a published work, but I am hardly ever wrong with my sense of intuition. Knowledge will always be greater of value to me than materiel wealth. Knowledge may not be power, but used in conjunction with other faculties, it can level mountains.

11. I  feel "The Voice" is my voice. Agreeable in nature, but not without opinions of a deep sort. But then again, I think I started many things that I may not have, such as; Gleeking, the word "Gleek", being a smart 'badboy', and using the word 'so' with more than one syllable.

 Thank you again, Sabrina, for gifting me that Kreativ Blogger award. I adore you, although it does not seem so. My affection is usually interpreted as indifference. Oh well, I blow a kiss to your hand.

 The other award I have had bestowed upon me is the "I Survived The Wall Of Shame" award from Workindan at Shameful Productions. Here is that graphic. A great one.

But will I survive the guest post?

 I like my likeness and that I have yet to turn in my guest posts. I hoard them with a fervor. Yes, a fervor.

 Until next time(which will not be as along as last time), may my adoration for your general nature never subside.

10k Views Art Party!

 I will not bore you with an exact official count, nor will I write a lot of bland words to describe to you the feeling I get when I see that my page has been visited over ten thousand times. I almost feel as if five-thousand of those are mine, I'm so vain and insecure. You know I'm pulling your leg, right? I don't visit my own page.


 And now to some art that I've produced during a recent dark(no-inter9t) time.

Floydish-20 triangle series

 I won't be able to thank you all appropriately, but I will try my best at celebrating this 10k with the same enthusiasm as jumping a 100ft hurdle made of bacon over a pond of cheese. I'll party down like I've just wrestled a 2 ton alligator and won! I'll revel in the afterglow like I'd just bedded this years rotation of leading ladies. Yep, you're gonna see me let my hair down(has it ever been up?), and let the whoops and whistles fly!

Singularity- 20 triangle series

 Although, I can't party too hard. I've still got those guest posts I've got to submit. I'm cutting it down to the wire, but at least I've got a few almost finished. After that, I should be good and ready to get a little more than schnockered(darn spell check and it's disbelief in the word 'schnockered').

Mother Shape- 20 triangles

 So, if you get a submission of a guest post that doesn't look right, you can blame me for going a little too far in my celebration of 10k views. I must have switched up the NSFW posts with the clean 'non-blue' ones. I hope I don't brutalize anyone's sensibilities, but bruising them just might be good for a few.

Space Flatulence- 20 triangles series

 I raise both my shot glass and my stein in honor of you great people who visit me. Once we get this train chugging along at 100k views, I will look back at this post and most likely do an epic facepalm. But behind that knobby-fingered mask, I'll have a supreme smile of pride, shining for those of you great people who started me out.

 Thanks, and I'll be working most of the weekend on the guest posts. I should have really done them one at a time, but I'm a glutton for punishment(paddle, anyone?).

 So, until next time, keep it RANDOOM!

RIP MCA and a late Doomcast

In the heyday of Run DMC, The Beastie Boys did a collaboration with them. It revived a song from years before by Aerosmith. That Aerosmith somg was inspired by pimps. Adam Yauch was a pimp. Not a literal pimp, mind you, but one of the most ethereal and esoteric kinds of purveyors that produce such alluring flesh in the aural form.

 Without his talents, I would have never realized one of my many rapper monikers. Not a pen name, but a rapper identity. I liked the idea of being a rapper enough to make think of creating my own persona. I didn't' get much further than the name(It's not used still, so I won't say it), but it's much further than I would have gotten without The Beastie Boys.

 I was stunned yesterday to hear of his death. I had recorded a podcast and was going to upload it before I saw the news about him. To make a short story shorter, I slept. I've appropriately mourned one of my influences and now you can enjoy this DOOMCAST.

 It's definitely one of the more 'weirder' ones, if they're all not as weird. I go through talking about, probably not in this particular order

• Procrastination
• Hunter S. Thompson
• Deadlines
• Suicide
• Guest Posts
• The Bersercules and Rambling Person podcast and why to listen to the whole thing
• Hate Mail
• Wierd, I'm not wierd
• Insects, and why I empathize with them
• Entomologists, and what they can do to make me like them

 Sorry if the sound is too low. Let me know if it is in the comments, and I will do a replacement. I can't tell from these speakers. 

 Until next time, "Gitoutmeface!"

Synesthesia or Superpower?

 I have this power, it's kind of peculiar. Some would say  that it's downright weird,  but I think we've all got weird powers. Only a certain few, like myself, figure out their power within their lifetime.Even less share their's with others. So here's my rare power share.

 I can taste medications and food placed in mypalm. The bitterness of my first aspirin at school still makes me salivate to this day. When the nurse placed it in my hand, I puckered up like I had just french-kissed a lemon.

 Since that time, I could take any taste-filled object and pick out the various flavours and notes within. Whether it be a delectable fruit-filled scone, a scrumptious savory biscuit, or a super-sweet finagrin pill, I can determine the ingredients and the effects that it will have on my taste buds.

 I only use my powers for good, so I tend to wear gloves at times others would not. As I type to you, I am wearing the most supple of lambskin gloves.  Mmmmmmm,  lambskin tastes  good!

                                               What's  your power?

My cat's power keeps me laughing!

Karmic Dust In Your Face

 While visiting a local literary genius at his apartment complex, we heard an annoying noise.

 The backpack  blower.

These things spin audible noise so hard that it protrudes sound out at over one-hundred decibels.

We were having one of those deep philosophical discussions about useless people. Both of us interjected the somber conversation with lightning quick, light-hearted wit, and a sense of hope for the future.

 It had to become tainted with the loud 'WHOOOOOSHHHHSOOOOSHH" of the anti-vacuum.

 We took the pause as opportunity to laugh a bit. When the skew-skulled individual that wielded the bellowing blowhose came near the door, he decidedly pointed the stream of dust, dirt, and leaves into the gap between the threshold and the door.

 What a douche. Worse than that, at least a douche leaves you clean. This cat was going to litter us with his leavings and skit-addle without even scratching sand at the waste.

 We wouldn't have it! With our wits about us, we dampened two towels and shoveled them under the floor. Wait, maybe we just shoved them, but either way, that guy saw a flapping surrender sign.

 Genius as he is, my literary acquaintance took it upon himself to brace the door even further. The sight of him reaching for each side of the frame was too hilarious not to start laughing uproariously. The bedlam inside must have scared the poor dolt outside, we heard less and less of the noise.

 We had won. Or so, we thought. The calls started pouring in. Every door had the same thing happen. The guy is a sadist punk, messing with people's airways for fun. Many people are upset. I was asked by a disabled man to "teach that sucker a lesson", but I do not use violence to enforce what I may think is 'right'. I could have easily just opened the door while he was across from it, and crushed him a bit, but I knew that the negative action would only stick with me.

 His will stay on him for quite some time. The baby, the elderly woman, and the disabled will be revenged by sweet, sweet karma.

Some work for free has bloomed into paid work. Thanks, That Bastard!

May the next few bits of your day be a little less sucky. I know mine will!

See A Void, Fill It

At least that's what I thought I was doing this morning when I set the attributes to an image today. Let me give you a little background info.

 I like flying things. I have long since given up the thought of piloting my own craft, (my vision is too terrible to pass for a pilot's license) but I do keep up with a few of the technological advancements in the area.


 Which brings me to quadcopters. These things are amazing! I'm sure Da Vinci probably had a super-secret folio of designs that included this four-propellered dream, but no one has yet to come forth with the sketches. His art on the subject is not on google. Tons of others are, though. 335,000 to be more exact.

335,000 images of quadcopters not labeled for reuse

 So many images that are unusable here. I was just looking for one or two for an example. I usually forget to restrict my search by license, so I get a huge amount to begin with. That's fine. Let's see what happened when I pared down the search.

Yellow boxes added to show emphasis on search terms and license

 And this is what I got:

One image, and it's not even of a quadcopter. Just a list of  bugfixers.

So, Google advanced image search has failed me. I know there are other tools, but I am very stubborn. So stubborn, in fact, that I created my own quadcopter image and set the license to 'Free to Use, Even Commercially", so it can be found instead of the list of bugfixers.

 Here's my quadcopter image:

It qualifies as a quadcopter, but it's got my 'signature style' as well. I'm 99.9% sure it would fly as well.

 Organic and machine have melded together to fill a void in the much needed area of useable graphics.

As of the finish of this blogpost, the image is not yet showing up in the search. Maybe it'll take a little while, but I already feel the satisfaction of filling a void with my art.

Have a great day!

Doomcast 3: Doomed To Not Be Heard.

This is a great day! I am hoping you've had one or are currently making yours great. This opportunity I had was  utilized to the utmost. Please forgive my  morning voice, for I'd only had one cup of the java when I recorded.

Thanks goes out to all of you for the inspiration you provide me. It's a great thing to have a piece of my heart grow with your continued advancement in the blogosphere.

Until next time, I'll be working on getting work and commenting your lovely pages.

Edit: The first take was deleted because of lack of audio. The second take was to be uploaded and shared, but was also missing from Pod-o-matic right after they send me an e-mail saying that it had been published. I'm not sure who they think they are, messing with my time like that, but heads will roll(or bang, whatever their preference).

 As angry as doing and re-doing this has made me, I'm still hopeful that I can be heard at some point today. It's not a total loss, as I know now to stay far-far away from Pod-O-matic. That, and I did get to comment some of your blogs before getting trapped into this imploding box of soundless-ness.

 If it comes to it, I will transcribe my latest re-do. It has a good story that I don't want you to miss out on. A story about contests, dancing, and pulling the "L" card when it's appropriate.

Thanks again, and thanks for the patience of a rock.

I've Failed, But Had So Much Fun Doing So

So, I've failed. Yes, I can admit it and feel no shame.

 What is it that I failed at, you ask?

 My girlcott of Mal-Wart.

 A certain annual happening has brought gifts my way. One of these was a gift card to none-other than Mal-Wart. Everyone but the gifters know how much I detest the place.

 I know there are places that are supposed to buy cards, but I don't wish to become victim to another online scam.

 Anyway, I decided to utilize the gift and look the horse in the mouth with the most optimistic eye I could.

 This trip had to be special. I took it upon myself to not hitch a ride, but walk the three and a half miles to the store. With each step I would count another positive thing that would happen due to this pilgrimage. I came up with so many that by the time I was at the front door I had a smile in my eyes. I even called Cliff, the greeter, by name. He was so impressed by my proper nature, he thanked me with the most respectful ardor I've ever seen displayed at Mal-Wart. I was feeling like royalty in rags. A ninja king, mixing with the peasants, the jesters, and the mutants. I looked around for those types, but they seemed to have been held up by previous engagements because all I saw around were hot women.

 Hot women at wall market? Yes! I promised myself not to speak at them. I have this wierd block that keeps me from talking to women, just in case they're taken and their boyfriend/husband catches me talking to them. If a woman ever got beat or mistreated because of me, I'd feel so bad.

 Anyway, I still made four women laugh. Without speaking. I felt like the American version of Mr. Bean. One of these women were with her husband and child. I had dodged them once with my cart at the detergent end cap because I tend to travel at a great pace and the kid got in my way. I had to backtrack into them again due to getting turned around in the lawn and garden department. Having nearly bumped into her cart a snails speed, the beautiful woman broke into a raucuous laughter. I ended my vow of silence as I begged for pardons. Her continued giggling set my guilty heart free. I blushed because I was almost certain her husband hadn't had her laugh at his jokes that hard in years by the look he was giving her. Oh well, I found everything I was looking for and headed back to current couch I surf.

 I had about 40 pounds of materials to walk another three and a half miles. I balanced the load by draping the new 100' extention cord over my neck and carrying two sachels in each hand.

 It was heavy. Every time I would get a little sore or need to adjust, I would think of those in third world countries that have to walk over five times my little distance with way more wieght  just to make sure their family has enough water to drink and use everyday. It was very humbling to make the distinction between their rough world and my comfortable existance.

 The cord around my neck started to feel less like a tool and more like a fashion statement. People honked at me, I got recognition in the form of head nods from folks that had never seen me before. I even recieved a few whistles as I lumbered down the thoroughfare with my burdens. My mood must have had me glowing.

 It was a good day, overall. I've got more jobs lined up. Both odd and graphics! I'm getting this hustle thing down, right in the nick of time. Small business is tiny, but powerful!

 I appreciate you guys and gals. Thanks for sticking with me in these different times.

Randoom Encounter: Pinkslipper CheerCougar at the Rx Lot

 The parking lot of the pharmacy was empty, except for me walking my bike and a woman walking to her car. She was in her late thirties, wearing a black and white cheerleader uniform with bright pink slippers. She shuffled along towards her car, carrying her latest refill of medications.

 "I like your slippers.", I said. I didn't want to pass this opportunity up. I liked how curvy her jiggly bits were, plus the uniform did something to my subconscious mind.

 "Thank you. I actually got them from a homeboy that looks like he could be related to you." Her smile was genuine. I swam through her brightened brown eyes for the tiny moment we exchanged these words.

 "Well, the next time you see him, tell him his long-lost cousin says 'hi', I said with a matching grin.

 At that moment the veluptuous vixen attempted to open her car's door only to find out that she had locked her keys in her car.

 "I locked my keys in there. Thank god for sunroofs!". When she said that I heard something totally different. I heard:

 "I locked my son in there", is what I heard. I was about to put down my bike and help the curvaceous cougar rescue her offspring when she boosted herself upon the bumper. The flawless execution of this move told me that she had performed this paticular technique many times in the past.

 I stood in amusement as the pink-footed cheerleader drifted down into the driver's seat from above.

 Some people say that true love comes from above. But does it wear cheerleader uniforms with pink slippers?

Befriending, Betrayals, and Dreams of Flying

 Hey, everybody! I've missed you. I hope April is treating you well. Most Aprils are good to me, but there is the occasional frenemy out of this month. With that in mind, I'll give you this post that has been sitting on my hard drive, waiting for a read or two.

 I make friends very easily.I'm sure that some of it is attributed with my view that we are all made of the same star material. Another part is that I am pretty darn charismatic. I can make people suprise smile. Those are those rare smiles that happen when others aren't expecting to flex those fantastic facial muscles. It gives me a great amount of pride to count another person as someone who likes me. For all of my anti-conformist views, I still feel the need to be liked by others.

 I trust way too much. This is one of my biggest faults. It has taken it's toll on my life. There are situations that I would take back in my life. I thought I'd never have any regrets, but choosing the wrong friends is a lesson that I never wish I'd have had to learn first hand. I've had those I held close to me take my belongings, cheat with my women, and murder a family member. That final straw broke the poverbial camel's back so hard that I ended up going hermit for years. It suddenly became difficult to do anything in public, let alone make new friends. The stagnation eventually got to me, and I've poked my head out more frequently in time, but I still have a huge veil of screening that I hold in view while talking to everyone but my closest family.

 So, lo-and-behold, I came to become a blogger. There's the social interaction that I had been lacking for the longest time. Almost everyone, save for the rare troll and flamer, has been genuinely positive. This outlet gives me opportunity to flex my friending muscle without all of the risks that come with physical befriending. You are my best friend. I do not joke when I say that.

 Speaking of joking, I should include one in this dreary post. The clouds outside threaten rain and I've lost my last ten dollars, so it's going to take all I have to even figure out one joke. Original jokes are the only ones I like to tell. I'm reminded of many a comedian feud due to people creating the same punchlines, or sharing from each other. I think life can be so funny, that sometimes relatable comedy can cross lines of time and space. Really, I should wetten up this dry post. Let me get a wet rag, a bucket of KY jelly, and a stream of gleek, and we'll turn this motha around. Haha, just kidding. I have no jelly.

 I've hit a stalemate with some of my sought assistance. I don't believe that there is as much help for me as I initially believed. I am thankful for what is there, but the system was not designed for people like me. I don't even know anyone else like me, so how would they know to prepare for me?

 Hamster wheels and treadmills. Those come into my mind when I think of the word j-o-b. Before I end up getting hate comments from all of you that hold down a good nine-to-five gig, let me tell you that there are people of all types in this world. That includes the person who detests the ratrace so much that they withdraw from it, only to bring suffering and strife to their lives. That person is me, but it's not all suffering and strife. Every once in a while there are rays of light that come from the darkness to light the path I knew was there all along. We're all different, and not all of us have to have a job, career, or love of money. I have none of those right now, although I do have plans to go to college, it's got more to do with me doing what I love than the financial security that it brings.

 Financial security scares me. With a padded bank account, I wouldn't be as hungry. I wouldn't struggle to think of ways to accept certain aspects of being poor. I would be complacent. I would accept life as it comes, instead of meeting the wind head-on. Leeway is not what I require. I need to be uncomfortable. The fine line between uncomfortable and downright miserable is what drives me to make this seemingly useless statement of individuality.

 I've been keeping some stones in my pocket to help my dreams. I'm one of those that believe that dreams can help understand real life. This is a small portion of my last dream:

 I'm standing in the middle of a yard in the suburbs. The sky is lightly spotted with fluffy clouds. Their wispy whiteness poofing out of the blue background. I feel a warmth come from my chest. This sensation is very familiar, although I don't remember ever having it before. In a few hearbeats, I figure out that this is the secret to flying. The warmth and tingling I feel eminating from within my chest is belief. A belief that encompasses my whole soul to the point of raising me from the earth's crust. As I ascend, I become very excited and tell myself aloud,

 "This is a dream. I am flying in a dream."

 With the utmost certainty, that thought is struck down with a belief that this IS reality, not a dream state. I fly upward, taking in the rushing air to my flared nostrils.


 Was it a dream, or is the dream life a reality that we come back to every night?

 The answer is right, no matter which one it is.

 I'm off to find that ten dollars and hopefully have a night that helps my mood. I hope you all have a great weekend.

 Peace, friends.

Edit: Had to brighten this one up a bit.

I Put The Odd in Odd Job

 Hello, everyone! I'm back for just a bit, to give you an update and a graphic.

 I am still at the same household, helping out. I feel that I'm under appreciated, but that's the norm in my world.

 I woke up this morning to my charge wheeling into my footchair(I've been relegated to an oversized chair and a footchair to sleep), and rooting through the belongings that I keep near me at all times. I wigged out. I can take a lot of punishment, but I can't take someone going through my stuff. I don't have many material possessions, but those that I still cling to are not to be messed with. I confronted him about it and he stated that he was just cleaning my area. I moved everything in 5 seconds and told him I am perfectly capable of cleaning my own area after I wake up.

 Waking up has been an experience for the past three weeks. The place I am staying has a lot in the way of morning noise. First, there's the rooster that is somehow fixed on eastern time zone and does his "Cockle-doodle-doo" at Five-fifteen A.M. sharp. Secondly, There are the children that get up and enjoy crying before they head off to school. Thirdly, the guy who's legs aren't working likes to scream names for assistance in the morning. He screams very loud, and it's never my name. Probably because he knows I'm 4 feet away, and he wouldn't need to yell to get my attention. These three things have brought me some rude awakenings. Sometimes it's not until 4am until I finally get to sleep, so when I awake from these things, I'm in a very bad mood.

 I've found a solution. For the past three nights, I've been blaring a looped rainstorm through my laptop into my earbuds. It works great, that is until I turn over and accidentally yank the cords out of the input. If that happens, I just get things back to normal and drown myself in sounds of water. Surprisingly enough, I don't get the urge to pee more than usual.

 Money. I have none. I need much. So, without getting a j-o-b, which would get in my way, I've been setting up some odd jobs. So far I've lined up some metal scrapping and weed killing jobs. Those are just a few ways I can use to get money, but they were the first. Even though it's not a normal boss-employee relationship, I usually make an impression on those that hire me for freelance work.

 I'm odd. In odd, I don't just mean strange or unique. Those apply, but in this example I am truly odd. I got a week-wackage job last year, but it was a rough gig because I didn't own a weed-eater and needed to acquire one for use. I kept asking people, and they kept saying "yes", but they'd never come through for me. I ended up doing the whole job with scissors. A pair of sharp fiskars. It took over an hour and a half, but I got it done and didn't need anyone to give me a weedwacker. Leave it to me to come up with odd solutions.

 This is getting a little long, so I'll finish it up by giving you all a glimpse of one of my latest works. It was done with a combination of apophysis, photoshop, and gimp. I hope you enjoy it.


 Thanks for sticking with me. You're the best!