I don't want the world to see me,
I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's meant to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
Have you ever wanted to write frankly about yourself, the way that you see magazine editorialists put their life story on the line as collateral for what they hope will be a good story? I try it alot, and it usually just ends up being a mess of profanities.
Let's try.
I see myself as the kind of person who doesn't really have anything to say that anyone wants to hear. There's all these people I knew from high school who I didn't know well, but I want to know now. I see them on facebook all the time, but I just can't talk to them, get them to talk to me. That's frustrating, but I'll get over it.
I like my job, but I hate myself. I'm professional, reliable, career-oriented, and alone. And the world seems so small, but then I see something on TV or on someone's blog and realize that it's really a large world, a very, very large world. Because there's valuable connections to be made with everyone you could run into. But I run into people I want to make connections with and don't know how. And I want desperately to move to the big city just so I can be around people, but more than the big city, I just want the people. I think that I could be happy, healthy, and positive, if I just had the right people to lean on. Trying to stand alone, I end up not standing up straight, or not standing up at all, and I feel like it makes me invisible.
But I'm so excited, because I see clearly what I want, and I know I'm going to get it. I just don't see the "how" inbetween,
But ARRRGH, I hate the way I write, because it sounds so simplistic and patronizing, like a happy-ending Disney movie. Once in a while I chance upon a string of writing that's really alot deeper, and more controversial, less black and white. And I want to meet people like that too. And I want to doubt and question, and make them doubt and question, and find out that I really don't know who I am, that I'm actually something completely different.
Oooh! What a great story that would be. I'd have to go on some long journey to find myself, and I'll realize that my perceived career as an engineer was only the first step, and when it's over I'll be someone completely different.
No. You see, it's really pointless to write about it, I'm not going to see it coming when it happens, there's no way I can anticipate that. I'm sure if I were close I would've found it by now, I just have to keep my eyes peeled. For some mind-blowing opportunity.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
"Hackers"
I swore I'd stay away from them. The hackers. The are like the Siren of old times, they lure you in with the promise of everything you want. But in the end, all they do is take from you.
I swore I'd stay away, but I met one of these "hackers". But I met one. And suddenly I was cooperating. I was giving her my time, my attention, my company. I couldn't get the hacker off my mind, I was always thinking about her. And then I realized, I'd been hacked. A pretty standard operation, the usual hacker moves. The looks, that way they stand. I was an easy target, so it didn't take any fancy moves to hack my mind, which got hacked over and over again. Which I hated, every time I swore was the last time; I wouldn't get hacked again. But the more I was compromised, the more I wanted what they had. The more I became convinced that maybe, maybe it wasn't so terrible, if I was really convinced that I was getting what I want, maybe I was? How could I tell the difference really?
Now, I can't wait. I haven't been hacked in a little while, and I can't consciously wish this on myself. There's something so pleasant though, of being so strongly driven by such a singular goal, completely losing control of my mind while the hacker takes over. I just sit in the backseat of my mind and let her drive for a while.
So, to you hackers, don't think I don't know what you're doing, how you do it. I just can't bring myself to stop you. Which, maybe means, that I'm being hacked right now.
I swore I'd stay away, but I met one of these "hackers". But I met one. And suddenly I was cooperating. I was giving her my time, my attention, my company. I couldn't get the hacker off my mind, I was always thinking about her. And then I realized, I'd been hacked. A pretty standard operation, the usual hacker moves. The looks, that way they stand. I was an easy target, so it didn't take any fancy moves to hack my mind, which got hacked over and over again. Which I hated, every time I swore was the last time; I wouldn't get hacked again. But the more I was compromised, the more I wanted what they had. The more I became convinced that maybe, maybe it wasn't so terrible, if I was really convinced that I was getting what I want, maybe I was? How could I tell the difference really?
Now, I can't wait. I haven't been hacked in a little while, and I can't consciously wish this on myself. There's something so pleasant though, of being so strongly driven by such a singular goal, completely losing control of my mind while the hacker takes over. I just sit in the backseat of my mind and let her drive for a while.
So, to you hackers, don't think I don't know what you're doing, how you do it. I just can't bring myself to stop you. Which, maybe means, that I'm being hacked right now.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Clear the Area
You find your way back down, and I'll keep the area clear.
I made the wrong decision. And my unit would let me die for it, and no one would blame them. We were fine soldiers, the best, with the best equipment and weapons, a truly formidable band of warriors. But we were just outnumbered and outgunned. None of us would survive and we knew it. We weren't fighting out of principle, or honor, or hope anymore. It was just reflex. It gave us something to do while we died.
We were twenty, lined up shoulder to shoulder around a central pedestal in a round room. The spawn entered through every opening into the room, and there were many. It was a horribly indefensible position, an impossible situation. Our best guns, our best aim, just delayed the inevitable, they were making ground, slowly.
A shower of broken glass from the roof was the least of our worries, but what followed it would capture our attention.
The claws of his feet dug deep furrows into the solid marble base we stood around, most of us were thrown from our feet in the impact. And their we waited for death still stunned from the tremendous crash. We waited for the feel of their teeth, and the small, quick cuts, and the slow, inescapable death.
But the benevolent, deafening sound of armor-class vulcan cannons shook a few of us into the dangerously optimistic hope of leaving the museum alive.
"It's Jonesy" I whispered to myself, unable to hear, unable to even feel my face mouth the words.
A thousand pained Spawn squeals gnawed at our minds, a sound we would never forget. The spawns flew into a rage, they lit him up with their beams, his armor hissing and popping from the tremendous energy. The heat on the armor burned the eyes just to look at it, the pain his suit must've felt. What had been our slaughter was now their slaughter. Though, even an armor suit didn't have enough ammunition or firepower to salvage this battle, it was time to go.
"I'll keep the area clear" he shouted to us, whirling his cannons in wide arcs at the base of the walls.
He shrugged off a bubble of melted armor crawling through the seams in his leg plate.
I made the wrong decision. And my unit would let me die for it, and no one would blame them. We were fine soldiers, the best, with the best equipment and weapons, a truly formidable band of warriors. But we were just outnumbered and outgunned. None of us would survive and we knew it. We weren't fighting out of principle, or honor, or hope anymore. It was just reflex. It gave us something to do while we died.
We were twenty, lined up shoulder to shoulder around a central pedestal in a round room. The spawn entered through every opening into the room, and there were many. It was a horribly indefensible position, an impossible situation. Our best guns, our best aim, just delayed the inevitable, they were making ground, slowly.
A shower of broken glass from the roof was the least of our worries, but what followed it would capture our attention.
The claws of his feet dug deep furrows into the solid marble base we stood around, most of us were thrown from our feet in the impact. And their we waited for death still stunned from the tremendous crash. We waited for the feel of their teeth, and the small, quick cuts, and the slow, inescapable death.
But the benevolent, deafening sound of armor-class vulcan cannons shook a few of us into the dangerously optimistic hope of leaving the museum alive.
"It's Jonesy" I whispered to myself, unable to hear, unable to even feel my face mouth the words.
A thousand pained Spawn squeals gnawed at our minds, a sound we would never forget. The spawns flew into a rage, they lit him up with their beams, his armor hissing and popping from the tremendous energy. The heat on the armor burned the eyes just to look at it, the pain his suit must've felt. What had been our slaughter was now their slaughter. Though, even an armor suit didn't have enough ammunition or firepower to salvage this battle, it was time to go.
"I'll keep the area clear" he shouted to us, whirling his cannons in wide arcs at the base of the walls.
He shrugged off a bubble of melted armor crawling through the seams in his leg plate.
Over the Flagpole
This is the new year.
I went over the flag pole in Mario Brothers. When you go over the flag pole, the whole world is turned upside-down and backwards. But the game was broken, or radioactive or something, because now MY world is backwards and upside-down. My truck, I can't steer it. Not with the steering wheel anyways, it controls the radio volume. But the radio volume knob steers the wheels now, and boy is that thing tweaky. Just about rolled the truck over when I figured that out. But it doesn't really matter, because when you get to where you're going, you've gotten to where you were. Try to go to work in the morning, and when I get there it's closing time yesterday. A futile exercise I gave up after a few tries. I'm not even sure if my mind works anymore, when I think of what I want, I don't know if it's what I really want, or what I don't want. It gets worse though. Because, there's this girl I like, but I can't tell her directly. And I think that she likes me too, but she's evasive, she makes up excuses. Her friends say that she likes me, and they tell her that I like her, but the more I want to be with her, the farther away I drift from her. And now she won't talk to me at all
Worse yet, my friends act like they like me when we're alone, but around others, they act like they hate me, they're rude and mean. But when we're alone again, we're best friends, like nothing ever happened.
And I'm angry for no reason. And things that used to make me happy make me sad. And things that used to make me sad make me happy. And I finally got what I always wanted, for years and years. And I hate it.
This is how it is in backwards world. A big fat lie is the truest truth you've ever heard, and even the simplest truths you always took for granted are subject to forces that are going to turn them into something other than truths. Maybe into just ideas, or songs, or potatoes. And the biggest, juciest lie I could ever tell you is jump over the flagpole. Because all you've got to lose is your life, and you got that for free.
I went over the flag pole in Mario Brothers. When you go over the flag pole, the whole world is turned upside-down and backwards. But the game was broken, or radioactive or something, because now MY world is backwards and upside-down. My truck, I can't steer it. Not with the steering wheel anyways, it controls the radio volume. But the radio volume knob steers the wheels now, and boy is that thing tweaky. Just about rolled the truck over when I figured that out. But it doesn't really matter, because when you get to where you're going, you've gotten to where you were. Try to go to work in the morning, and when I get there it's closing time yesterday. A futile exercise I gave up after a few tries. I'm not even sure if my mind works anymore, when I think of what I want, I don't know if it's what I really want, or what I don't want. It gets worse though. Because, there's this girl I like, but I can't tell her directly. And I think that she likes me too, but she's evasive, she makes up excuses. Her friends say that she likes me, and they tell her that I like her, but the more I want to be with her, the farther away I drift from her. And now she won't talk to me at all
Worse yet, my friends act like they like me when we're alone, but around others, they act like they hate me, they're rude and mean. But when we're alone again, we're best friends, like nothing ever happened.
And I'm angry for no reason. And things that used to make me happy make me sad. And things that used to make me sad make me happy. And I finally got what I always wanted, for years and years. And I hate it.
This is how it is in backwards world. A big fat lie is the truest truth you've ever heard, and even the simplest truths you always took for granted are subject to forces that are going to turn them into something other than truths. Maybe into just ideas, or songs, or potatoes. And the biggest, juciest lie I could ever tell you is jump over the flagpole. Because all you've got to lose is your life, and you got that for free.
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