Mora

okokok

so i've decided since reading the Penis Blog, which in turn lead me to re-read the Which way do you REALLY curve? thread, that i should challenge myself to not talking about guys or my attraction to them, for a whole month on tl.net. This will also include any participation in hetoresexuality discussions since hetero sex usually involves a hot guy having sex. no talk about sex, period. SEXUALITY.

I have no idea what to expect; what it's gonna be like. While my personality offline is definitely more diverse (i do discuss things that have nothing to do with sex.), i definitely talk about sex/sexuality more than anyone i know. In fact, i think it's a given with almost anyone who knows me that sex will inevitably enter the topic of conversation. This goes for family, friends, co-workers, etc. That's not to say that i push the topic on people - I always refrain from discussing sex around people who either do not find it interesting or do not find my kind of humour funny - however, i seem to just pull out this easiness in people; i can't remember ever having to censor my conversations. Topics that are commonly taboo (or at least uncomfortable) for straight guys/straight women to be open about - such as using a dildo - suddenly becomes an open act of normalcy, or an act that everyone can laugh at together. Nothing is taboo and everyone loves sex (even if they don't know it. exception maybe being Moltke).

in-forum if someone asks me about sex or sexuality, i will simply refer them to this thread. there is no excuse to betray the tenants if this challenge. !

In anycase, so what topics await me?

Infact, i'm going to limit my posts even further. Since the past year or 2 i typically only make one other type of post other than one about sex, and that's usually to laugh at someone, or indiractly (errrr, or directly) call them stupid. I won't do this either. I should try to actually be a contributing member of tl.net.

I have to admit that i'm making this challenge at somewhat of a rigged timing. I'm homeless in 3 days from now (well, homeless as in i won't have my own apartment), as i gave my notice july.31, have not found a place to live, and will be couch surfing until the end of september. My access to TL.net should be somewhat limited. However, if i don't post at least 7 times a week the challenge will re-start from the week that i failed (disqualifying any and all weeks where i succeeded before hand). i know folks, this is gonna be tough.

Wish me luck, i know i'll need it. I don't even know if this is possible.

Man oh man. Where to start.

To recap:

1) Woke up late. Scramble to put together my protein shake and get out the door.
2) Arrive 5 minutes late (not that big of a deal).
3) The person i am in love with will never love me. (i don't have a vagina)
4) The person i am in love with is moving away
5) I've tried to spend less time with said person, to avoid agony, and realized that the only thing i accomplished was a depriving myself of precious moments that could have been spent with someone who makes my life better than it is otherwise, even if i can't have of it everything i want.
6) Lose my dream job to someone else less qualified than myself (who i've worked with for almost 2 years)
7) Go to the gym. Ran harder than i've ever been motivated to attempt. i fucking killed it.
8) jealousy of co-worker subsides (from the workout). Anger melts away. Managed to be happy for him.
9) make progress on my project. huge progress. 4 hours of meetings, and a shitload of progress.
10) kick my Lead's ass 6-1 at Company of Heroes Online (my project). feels fucking good. i fucking miss RTS games (the past 6 months i've been working on this game, i've played a max of 15 games).
11) get home and call a good friend - Andrea - and share with me the turbulent events of my day. Definitely needed to get more of the extreme emotional shit off my chest.
12) make dinner. "Spicy Chicken" - one of my favourite dishes. get a call before im done cooking, asking me to go out to dinner.
13) go out to dinner with SC2 Balance Designer David Kim + one other Blizzard guy. FUCK I'M EXCITED.
14) Finish cooking the dinner i began, bringing it for lunch tomorrow. to Radiohead. OK Computer.
15) sit down, smoke a doobie, read teamliquid, and shorten my day into a 15 event list - as if i had told it as a story it would take 10,000 words, alot of re-lived agony, anger, tears, and a deal-breaking divulging of far too much mutli-confidential information.

Cheers!

On an unrelated note - if anyone cares - since my last blog post bitching about how hard it is to meet people, i've been asked out 4 times, and got the numbers of 3 others. I've not taken advantage of any of the opportunities (for a mutlititude of good and bad reasons), but the point is: I've had opportunities. yay for Mora!

Just got in the door.

Stripped down to my boxers.

Feeling sorry for myself, what else is new. But you know what? Fuck you.

I took myself to celebrities tonight. Met up with a friend and some of his acquaintances. I didn't want him to feel obligated to stick with me (for my lack of knowing anyone else), and so i decided to keep some distance; allows him space and also gives me a chance to be brave in the face of opportunity - i might talk to someone!

Not much around. Still havin' a great time. I love to dance. A few prospects, nothing too spectaclar. One guy is nice, not as fit as i like, but not skinny - which is important - and has nice hair (in multiple places). Obviously straight though. He's here to pick up the straight chicks who like to accompany their gay boyfriends. And he succeeded (actually went home with 2 chicks from the looks of it at the end of the night).

Another prospect, good dancer (must be gay). I make my way over pretty slow. I want to be casual about it, but more than that, i'm there to dance and have a good time. So i push slowly over to his area. Moments of being within dance-distance the guy high-tails it off the floor (even tripping on some stairs on the way out.. fuck.. lol).

No worries, still havin’ a great time. He was both older and balding worse than i am.

See another prospect. Super cute guy. A little bit small for my tastes (5'6" 150 lbs?) but cute. We make eye contact a few times. Uncertain of his sexuality. He dances like a straight guy (a shy one at that), but has a cuteness and proud-to-be-cute-ness about him that makes me think he's gay, bi, or straight and curious.

More eye contact is made and i realize that i'm actually pretty interested. I love it when guys dance - especially ones who are confident to do so despite never having been in a dance lesson. haha.

I'm super shy though, and ultimately, i don't want to ruin a straight guy's night makin' him think that he appears gay if i make an advance.

He makes his way over to me quite a few times. Within dancing range he backs off. I'm super confused. He maintains eye contact for a long time, and isn't afraid to smile. He appears to make advances but then backs off. Maybe he's just shy?

I continue to dance, having a great time. This one chick is fucking hot. She knows it too. Her breasts are nearly popping out of her dress. Her heels have more inches on them than my cock. Her legs are smooth, and are obviously well taken care off (in an artificial i-like-to-burn-myself-in-tanning-salons sorta way).

She makes eye contact and then some. She looks me up and down. She checks me out and makes sure that i know that she's checking me out. I don't give her much notice, she's trying far too hard, and is clearly loving the attention way too much.

Cute guy puts on his jacket and seems about to exit. I curse myself for my lack of bravery, accept it and get over it, and get back to dancing fullout.

Cute guy is back, jacket on, dancing near me again. He makes eye contact and makes it closer to my direction.

Long story short (lol), i finally get the balls to ask him if he's queer; turns out he's not. Turns out that he's just back to admire that cunt's legs and 8 inch heels.

and it hits me hard and i'm at this point fed up. They say 3% of the population is gay. Out of this 3%, i have to meet someone who is my type. My type happens to be the kind that you can't really tell they're gay unless they admit to sucking cock. So out of this 3%, they have to be my type, and i also have to happen to chance across a signal to put something into happenings. Add to this that i then must also be their type.

And that fucking bitch leaves the bar with a whole fucking entourage. Fucking 6 guys - none of which are her friends - escort her out of the bar. She laughs with her friend and takes home none of them.

Can't you guys stick to your own fucking bars? Can't chicks keep their boobs to themselves (and their gay boyfriends) when they enter my fucking zone? Could they just make it look not so fucking easy? maybe then i could feel a bit better?

And the worst part is, i felt fucking good tonight. I've lost a shit ton of weight. My arms have gained size, and clearly shows beneath my long-sleeve shirt. My stomach is flat, if not defined. I'm not the best dancer, but i know how to keep a beat and can move my body accordingly. I'm not a model, but i know i'm cute and definitely have my charm.

And not one fucking turnout.

/end emo

12:08 am.

Radiohead - Nude.

13 hour day of work. No lunch.

Funeral tomorrow.

It's been a while since i last posted on my blog. A while since my only post, i suppose. I've not been around because i can't seem to find the words to express what i want to exprress. i don't know what i want to express. I don't know if i have anything worth expresssing.

I'm changing.

I'm being drowned out by routine, comfort, luxury, and ease. And it's getting to me. I find myself becoming more and more numb to it all. I find myself becoming impatient with things i don't find stimulating - impatient in a subtle, numb, volitionless sense. But i'm not unempowered. I feel like i have more control over my life than i've ever had before. And in some ways i'm happier than i've ever been.... it's just that it's all too easy...

My life, up until recently, has never been an easy one. Many people in my life would probably debate this point, but in memory i have never felt at ease.

Since i was young i was dedicated to being the rebel. I wanted to figure it all out for myself. I wanted to do it my way. I wanted to do it because you said it couldn't be done. I loved to learn, but wanted to prove that homework was not relevant to that process. I thought school was for sheep that couldn't climb out of the box that tells you it's necessary to be happy. I wanted to hate my father, and thought it was important to succeed in such an endeavour. I succeeded. I was struggling with my sexuality, adamant that i not fit the stereotypes that goes along with it, as i needed to amount to more than just a label.

I always had a cause. And i always had someone against me. (parents, friends, teachers, society)

But now... it seems i've come around. While still lacking my highschool education, i feel that the pursuit of study is an incredibly convenient means to and end, and not urespectable at that. I have an amazing relationship with my father, as it occurred to me to explore his life from his side, instead of my own. I have a great job, with awesome co-workers, and set in an incredible environment. Sitting outside of stereotypes has lost it's glamour; i am simply me.

And don't get me wrong, i feel great about it all. My life has never been so rich.

But something is missing. It's just all to easy. Making good decisions is so much easier than making bad ones; every situation in the future is made easer by every good decision before it.

Again, i feel like i am lacking the words to express the entirety of my experience. I am not depressed. I am happy, laughing and smiling the majority of the time. It's just that it's all boring. It's not satisfying. Sorta like watching someone play Starcraft - completely stimulating and entertaining. But then i've won qualifications to be on Team Canada - immensely fulfilling.

Isn't this life the one that everyone says you should want? Money, Friends, Career, Health, Comfort, Luxury? And if you're not happy, you apparently don't have enough of one of the above?

I have my own thoughts about, and answers to, these questions. However, if such answers provided me comfort, i'd probably be sharing those instead of posing the questions themselves.

I want to find again that former me, the one that was near to weeping at the most random happenings. That every moment was fantastical and fundamentally moving because of the insights borne in it. My life was in a constant state of Emotional Flux. And now, i'm left with simple, steady, consistent, ease. Routine... i've always despised the Routine!

And now, a poem!

I wrote this a few months back when i was in a similar state of mind.

Photographer

Looking good!
From this view
Let me capture you,
Capture you from here

I wonder... what do you see?
Maybe my lens, surely my promise,
loving my vision
I wonder... do you see me?

Hark! Where's that frown coming from?
That doubt... Etched on the brow
Is something missing?
Wait! Don't eclipse it with Grandoise Ideas

That's sure a nice picture
I'll make sure to show the world
Don't worry about the money
It was my pleasure

Did you say something?
Oh... have i ever been in the picture?
Haha, of course not.
I'm the Photographer

This was a post i made sometime ago, and have always wanted it somehow related to me in a way that anyone could read it whenever they chanced upon me. I figure this new blog tool is the best way to go!

This was originally a response to a thread created by MTF regarding Death, and if it is scary or not. I replied that i was not scared but inspired by death - he further asked me to elaborate on my views. This was my attempt.

It is an absurdly long read, but my explanation of my perspectives cannot really be explained with less. I hope you have the patience to read what i have to say, and that if you do, that it will not be a waste of your time. My pre-emptive apologies if it turns out to be so.

-----------------------------------------------------


It started when i was 10 years old. My parents, while believeing in an after life, did not have any sort of faith. They never really passed their beliefs along since they didn't really know what they believed in themselves. So, while lying in bed on some insignificant day in March of that year, i was for some random reason thinking what it would be like to be dead - and my realization crippled me. It occured that i would not think, feel, or be me. It caused a terrible anxiety in me. I could not function unless i would escape into Final Fantasy 3, my RPG of choice during that period of my life.

My parents, baffled by and distraught at my turmoil tried to aid me in finding some answers that could be of comfort to me. My dad gave me a bible, and as well "A Book of Bible Stories" for a bit of an easier (and less grotesque) read. And my mom at this time was exploring her own spiritually, by which she had come across Sylve Browne - reknown pyschic and explorer of the spiritual realm. My mom gave me 'Adventures of a Pyschic', Sylvia Brownes first book about the paranormal.

At that age, the things Sylvia Browne elaborated on were fantastical and inspiring. I was so paralyzed by fear; i would and did cling to anything that could make some semblance of sense in order to quash my distress. Her ideas that God loves us, there is no Hell, that we write our lives before we live them (called 'blueprints', or 'charts'), and that we live many many lives, as Earth is much like 'school' for our souls - these were comforting.

I was an avid fan of hers up until i was 16 years old or so. And, ironically, it was through her own writing that doubts started to stir about what she had to say. I was reading 'God, Creation, and the Universe' within where she said some extraordinary things. No longer was life about only about living through our choreographed trials, joys, and accomplishments, but that also and more-so, all our 'ideas' exist on another plane of reality. Gnomes, Pixies, Leprechauns - these are all very much real; there is no longer just one God, but two: a Mother and Father God; there are not just Spirit Guides (people on the Other Side who help guide us through our lives) but also Totems (spirit guide animals), gaurdian angels and lesser angels, and a legion of other 'entities' to help us along our path (such as the Goddess of the Night, i forget her name). These things were quite interesting to read, but they turned life so much into a fantasy that i couldn't help but start to view her books as nothing more than just that - an intricate, powerful, but completely fictional fantasy.

Despite my depreciation of her ideas, it never occurred to me to start to re-inquire about the fears that had debilitated my existance a 3rd of my life ago.

And then i was 19 years old, Mid-November, when my best friend and two others decided it would be a delightful idea to consume some Mushrooms. This was the true beginning into my very real plunge into the depths of what death 'is'. I don't know much about others' experience with shrooms, but of all the times i've done them (about 8?) i've never had a hallucination. I have done moderate to large doses everytime, and i've experienced auditory hallucinations, but never a visual. So typically i just escape to the recesses of my mind, catapluting myself into philosophical and pyschological voyages. This one was different from my others in that it sent me into a 4 month depression; or more so, Despair.

This part is very hard to describe. Anyone who has not experienced drugs will have no idea what it's like, and will not understand that any horror you can feel while sober is immensely dwarfed by the depth of it when you are not. Anyone who has experience with drugs will no better be able to know what i felt, other than knowing what i felt was immense, as my trip has not been any of theirs.

...

I could hear myself thinking. I'm not talking about thoughts we 'hear' in our heads, i'm talking about the space between. When a person attempts to 'not think' they are (most likely) unable to do so. I was not trying to not-think, however, i was thinking about what it is to think. What is happening inside us that allows us to 'hear' our thoughts? And it was between these thoughts that i started to recognize an echo, or more, a silent gap. I could 'hear' that gap; I could hear the silence. My thoughts were no longer fluid. I would be aware and i would be thinking, and in the next moment i would simply be aware without any thinking at all. At first i found this sensation extremely intriguing, i let it dance with me for a significant amount of time. But then, for some forsaken reason, i present to myself: "Now what would it be like to neither think nor be aware?" I was filled with a very brief moment - less than a moment - of fear when my gut realized where this train of thought was going to take me. However, i ignored such a thing, and tried to catapult myself into a place where i was not thinking nor feeling. I proceded to close my eyes. I 'shut off' my ears to a point where i could not hear anything. I stopped breathing; stopped feeling the sensation of air filling my lungs. I turned off 'thought' as i had been successfully experimenting with previously.

I do not know how long this lasted. I do not know if i was able to truly 'turn off' anything in my body - it may have just been a crazy drug induced slowing-of of perception (or speeding-up-of, depending on how you look at it). I cannot judge the amount of time that passed in these moments, but only know i 'awoke'. My thought-silentness was not broken or shattered, for unlike the previous thought-less awareness, there was no silence to break. There was simply a gap in my existence. Time had passed when my senses and awareness had not given their permission to do so.

And within instants, the realization came crushing home that that was what death was. My eyes shot open, my heart tried to bust out of my body. I wanted to scream, and to cry, and to claw myself out of my skin. But i was paralyzed. I sat there staring out of a window that was across from me. After 10-30 minutes i decided that i couldn't bare to be in the company of my friends, and so left without a word and laid down in my bed.

I cannot accurately describe what i was like at this time. I could not stop moving. I wanted to cry more than anything else in the world - i wanted to feel something. But no tears were forthright. I was not physically paralyzed, but mentally i was debilitated. I could not stop rehearsing the moment after i had 'ceased' to exist; the 'waking up' or 'coming back' that it was. I could not sleep for hours. The horror i felt is unparalleled to anything i have ever experienced in my existence.

Over the next month my day consisted of me waking up, moving aimlessly throughout my house. I'd lie in my bed, i'd lie on the couch. I ate little. I did not leave my house. I was too scared/lost/crippled to watch TV, read, or play video games, i had no desire to play Starcraft despite my addiction. I had no desire to talk to anyone but my mother; and my attempts to do so only scared her. She would answer the phone and i would say Hello. I would be silent for the most part. She would ask me what is wrong; i would hesitate (for my lack of ability to articulate such an experience) and whisper to her that i was afraid; she would inquire why and of what - i would respond simply that it was impossible to explain. I worried her immensely.

My feelings ranged from horror, despair, loneliness, and insignificance. These would circulate for the 12 hours a day or less that i was awake, as i'd try to spend as much time sleeping as i possibly could. Exhaustion. I will not claim what it's like to be someone in a truly horrifying circumstance - such as war, torture, or dying from a malady like cancer - but i do know exactly how exhausting a circumstance can make you. I was spiritually and mentally exhausted. And after 2 months or so, i started to get sick of it (more like boreom, but a very disgusted boredom). At this point i was able to cry, and did so daily. I was able to watch spurts of TV until something tragic happened on screen - such as seeing an animal pass away, or even the glimpse of someone of old age - someone moving ever closer to the oblivion that is death. I started to read a little bit here and there. I started to shower more than once a week; i started to eat at least once every day, as opposed to the typical 3-4 days without food. I started to interact with my friends a bit, but they would scare me very easily and i would retreat to my loneliness.

Ironically - and most fortunately - i started to read Anne Rices 'Vampire Chronicles' upon suggestion from my boyfriend (ironic because vampires are immortal). I was infatuated with the idea of immortality, that our life and our existence does not have to disappear, does not have to lose its insignificance, that a world - even a fictional one! - existed where people do not have to Die. I was able to absorb myself in "Interview with the Vampire" from noon until morning, absorbing the words in a way that i had never read words before. And that is probably the moment i would pinpoint that things in my life started to Change.

I was reading a beautiful fantasy novel, filled with beautiful creatures and fantastical ideas, and i looked out of my window to see one of the most beautiful sunrises i've ever seen in my life. A mirage of yellows and oranges cascaded into the fleeting blue of the darkness. And that's the first time it hit me. These things, My Life, the act of Experiencing, is Beautiful. Despite all the truth and despair and horror that reality is, there is still beauty. - That "Life in a Glass House" is a beautiful song! - That mothers with unconditional love look down on their children in their arms, and are beautiful - That two individuals sharing intimacy is profound and beautiful - That the reds, golds, purples that can be found in the blooms of flowers, and the seasons that turn the leaves on trees those same colours, are beautiful! And all these things exist in spite of their insignificance! Things are not beautiful because they are forever, they are beautiful because they are not!.

Since then, my life has never been a bad one. Even in struggling moments i have an immense and profound respect for life. I have an even more profoud and respect for Tragedy because tragedy only adds to our beauty. Life is harsh, and brutal, and savage. There is no justice, there is no forgivness, there is no inherant right or wrong. We amble along through life not knowing - often searching - for answers, and the truth is there are none. And how can all of this not be beautiful? How can all this feeling, and joy, and pain, and sorrow, and love, not be beautiful beyond imagining! When you watch someone lose a loved one - a child, lover, or parent - and they are utterly torn apart how can that obvious and declaration of love for that lost individual not inspire an insane respect for beauty? That such emotions are possible that losing them causes such rivals in emotion?

When we die, all of this ends. We no longer suffer tragedy, we no longer love, or be but admirers in the garden of Beauty. We lose our Awareness. It is not that this finality of it all that gives our life meaning, it's that our life was meaningful inspite of this finality. I'm in love with that finality because it's all apart of it. Beauty can't be what it is without it, and is all the more beautiful for it.

...

I hope someone can get something out of this. It is My Life.