Christmas blackout

Just a quick note as to why there hasn't been any updates in the past couple weeks: First, the big Christmas ramp up of present buying and goofing off at work. Second, went to the parents place in Paris (Ontario) for a week and was busy hanging out with friends, eating pizza, playing video games (mostly HALO 2 frag fests), finally getting to play Nick's Rifts game after so many years, and aggravating the do-gooder CB squad that likes to pretend they're cops. Third, I bought an XBox, and Fable kicks ass.

Good morning...I hate you

Sometimes, in the morning, just to start the day off right, I stare into the mirror. Rarely do I ever recognize the face staring back. Still I stare, waiting, watching, body tensing as adrenaline readies me for the ever important fight or flight response. Staring eye to eye the silent tension thickens. Words of aggression rise up dripping with the bile of disgust. When finally the tension is broken with a single phrase uttered through bared teeth, forced, guttural, feral, "I hate you". Seething anger and hate fill the room as eyes harden with clarity and recognition. The face becomes my own. I am ready to face the world once again.

Jay's Party: Jiminy Fucking Cricket

I found this extremely humorous this morning. Just though I'd share.

Jay's Party: Jiminy Fucking Cricket

Tonight on Fox: When good viruses go bad!

It's been a very long time since I've actually been sick. Physically ill, with a virus or something more than a psychosomatic induced sickness that I usually end up using all my sick days for (the pitiful 4 that I get). Well, this past Saturday I was violently ill. Luckily it basically passed within a day. I'm still feeling a little weak and sickly but it's just after effects. It took a lot out me. Some people have said that I had the Norwalk (spelling? I should know, I work in a health related industry) virus, but I honestly don't know as I don't know that much about the virus. All I know is that what I had was nasty.
Given the nastiness of my weekend I hereby wish that sickness upon the following people who will always hold a special place in the darkest, hate filled, regions of my being: Charlie Cook, Dan Cook, Jim Reading.

My brain's the cliff and my heart's the bitter buffalo

Disappointed, depressed, jealous. The top three feelings of the moment. Not the first time, and most certainly not the last. The reason I'm feeling like this is really not even completely known to me, nevermind to anybody else. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to throw up. I instantly regretted gaining the information I was purposely fishing for. Things need to be sorted out, control needs to be gained and mastered once again. Unfortunately with control comes a coldness that I'm really not sure that I want to deal with right now. It's so much easier to drift along and deal with each passing emotion as it comes and goes. Not really deal with it so much as temporarily feel it before ignoring it and walking away, curling back up into the tight little ball of my own world where everything is good and nice and going with the flow is perfectly fine.
But the control emerges occasionally, rearing its head to fight against that which is completely against the very nature of my being. The peaceful protester in the back, silently taking everything in until the proper chord is struck. Peaceful protest becomes violent activism. The police of proper social behavior quickly moving in to stifle what society deems deviant. The mind recoiling from the touch of a consensual hallucination of authority.
So here I sit, spilling the guts of my head out into cyberspace to take on a life of their own. Someday they will return to their birthplace with a solid knock on the door and wearing the 100 watt grin of denial I know so well.
Something has to be done. The complete squashing of thoughts and feelings? I don't think that's such a good idea. Problems are sure to result from that solution, no matter how long it may seem to work. Serenity now, insanity later. Or embrace the very nature I constantly seem to be avoiding? Letting the control emerge, the adrenaline powered neon skull to burn through the flesh. This always seems like a better idea to me. The consequences of such don't matter to me much at the moment, or even any longer, I always get over them no matter what they might end up being. Such is the dilemma that constantly weighs on my mind.
The weight seems to be getting heavier these days though. Old ideas surface with new but familiar situations. Foreign substances begin to resemble gateways to salvation, at least temporarily. When drugs look like doorways you know something is going to give soon. Some seemingly insignificant little spring is going to snap, and then what happens? Tightly wound steel coils suddenly fired out through the chest.
Decisions will inevitably be made soon enough. But not before certain things already in motion come to fruition. Until then my friends I sit before you as I see myself whenever I look in the mirror, an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, wrapped in a candy coated shell.