Are the weekends over yet?

sibleh, All these public holidays are disruptive. While I enjoy not having to do much, it means there are more mondays in the week. "/ Mondays as they say, are a crap way to spend one seventh of your life.

Is man god's blunder, or is god man's blunder?
--Friedrich Nietchze

In the holy quest for extrovertedness, I've picked up a nasty inclination towards total arrogance, selfishness. Empathy *is* an introverted emotion. I hurt Carla's feelings and I didn't even think twice about it. There is much value in just listening and not talking your kop off. :(

"A closed mouth gathers no feet"

Fuck this soap opera that is Tribes. There is so much bad blood everywhere, it must look like a 3rd world slaughter house. Is it possible to start anew? I'd like to think so, but there will always be this obscured vision. Its so petty too, we had a great thing once, now its all fucked. Is that the price for going to far with the community spirit? Should there be a layer of anonymity (sp?) instead of getting too personal? The day I think things changed was when people didn't care anymore. Training stopped, people didn't post interesting news on the forums. We got involved in competition for Team ZA, people played to win. Playing to win is great, but then everyone else must play to win and not whine about being thrashed. Winning is fun. CHKNHD left. Downhill from there. Attitudes veered off the road like taxi drivers over christmas. Last straw: Cheating. Such a great community down the tubes. Another problem Tribes had was lack of critical mass. (x amount of players per night, we were x-10.) We have a golden opportunity with Tribes Vengeance to get critical mass. HL2 is delayed. Roll on Vengeance. Will our community spirit be back with a vengeance though? *cough*

An open page, blank, a portal to the void. Your pen, a great lightsabre in the dark. When the two meet, the void seems a little less empty, the darkness brightens. Spiderwebbing over the portal door, shielding you from the lack of feeling. There is human essence in that ink, it burns into the page, yet is cold to the touch. Patterns in the portal door. Thoughts. Emotions. Bring it on.

I wish I was a bird *tweet*.
Flying on the wind, how sweet.
Devouring ripe fruit, till I'm fat
What could be better than that?

Meet my mate, she's so great
Songs will bind us like fate.
We'd move to an upmarket suburb
... one with a recent refurb.

There we'd build a few nests,
one in which to invite guests.
Then we'd bring up some chicks,
oh to hear their little "clicks"

After a fulfilling life,
and spending it with my wife,
I'd die happy and fat...
What could be better than that!

Music for all seasons...

An emotion, feeling, expression and/or opinion could easily be equated to a song... music is great that way.

• Gut2BAGamer: Cake - Comfort Eagle
• I'm gonna have a frikkin kewl time: Collective Soul - Tremble for my beloved
• Why'd you have to leave?: Peter Gabriel - I grieve
• I kick ass: BT (Featuring Mic Chekka) - Madskillz
• I'm so glad I found you: U2 - Electrical Storm
• I just want to cry: R.E.M. - Everybody hurts
• I'm so lonely: Jewel - Hands
• I'm hard at work: Rammstein - Links 2 3 4 (harhar)
• Disowned Father: System of a Down - Chop Suey
• Damn Social Sheep!: Nada Surf - Popular
• I feel so sorry for myself: Royksopp - Poor Leno
• Hubba Hubba: Faithless -
• Till death do we part: Engima - I love you, I'll kill you
• I love you, my boy: Puddle of Mudd - Blurry
• Searching for Ms. Right: Rolling Stones - Anybody seen my baby?
• I love you: Goo Goo Dolls - Here is gone
• I still love you: Live - Turn my head
• I miss you: Incubus - I miss you (No-brainer)
• I love you boet: Toad the wet sprocket - Fly from heaven
• You make me feel happy: Sea Flowers - Easy Livin'
• Jam like a loon: Fatboy Slim - Yo mamma (Push the tempo)
• I feel great, and so does everyone else!: Collective Soul - Shine (Live)

Marooned

On a wind's whim we take a starboard tack, we're a drifer mostly. On board, a mindless captain, parched from the sun and a salty diet of fish. Beneath the decks, a lone prisoner, camouflaged within the steel bars of his jungle.

One thing is sure aboard this ship, the prisoner yearns to feel the warmth of the sun on his pale skin. To grab the wheel and steer the wandering vessel on a course anew. It eats at him everyday, like the barnacles covering the bow.

For this is a ship of fools, a witless slave of virtue, a witless slave to the vessel. Captain and prisoner alike. They are one and the same. The sails work, but they have no rope to harness their power. The rudder flaps in the current like a child sitting on the edge of a pool, splashing his feet in the water. The wheel responds like a disillusioned hamster, not knowing which way to run his own wheel.

Why does the captain waste his time on fishing all day when he could be sailing the seas for new land, land of plenties, land of beauties. Why doesn't the prisoner escape. To swim is to be free. This boat has all the makings of a story-telling-ship, yet it cruises through laziness like a sloth.

A drifter we have been, a drifter we shall be. Where are those trade-winds. Where is the sun to guide me to terra firma.

What am I? Who am I!

MMORPGGoodbye...

Consider this a last will and testament, with all the MMORPG madness I've been involved in, I don't think I need to hang around here anymore...

Why can't business life be as interesting as an MMORPG? *sigh* Then I'd WANT to climb the corporate rungs, oust the CEO and run the company like a dictator... I'd slay my enemies, loot their corpses and their legacies. I'd slap up any peasant who would dare question my judgement and find the most beautiful woman ever to marry. *snap* She better be tall, clever and stuff.

We interrupt this broadcast...

In other news, its life as normal (Normal: A setting on a hairdryer.)

Saw "Second-hand Lions" yesterday, very entertaining. Haley Jole-Osmont (or whatever) is visibly aging, maybe I'm getting old too. I want a life like his great-uncle in the movie, played by Robert Duval. Kill bad guys, have enough money to never worry about anything and fall in love with a princess. *siiiiigh*

In technical news, I found a FireFox extension called Deepest Sender, which allows me to update my LJ from the browser using an RSS plugin. Nifty.

Cleavage?

Whats the point anyway? Now the ladies have to show a bit more flesh for a day? Sure, its sekzy and stuff, but another capitalist plot like christmas. Maybe I'm just bitter cos I didn't see any cleavage today :P </perv>

Archive THIS!

I thought I'd stick some old stuff I wrote a while back in here...

Who do i turn to? Who can I say loves me? Who can I say I love? who dares take me for what I am? I cant even turn to my own mother for that. why? cos that person who DEMANDS my love. Who will take me in under their wing, show me affection, hold me tight? Whisper in my ear, drive me crazy. Who can I call someone significant?

Who is willing to take that leap of faith, see me for who I am underneath it all? Anyone can I guess, i just have to lower my shields. Once inside, you're safe too. My security is your security. My faith is your love. My trust is your sanctuary.

All the dangers shielded, we can get on with knowing each other to the core, to the very essence that defines us as human beings. CONCIOUSNESS. KNOWING WE'RE CONCIOUS!

Giving is powerful. its the harbour shielding the vessels from the great blue harm. its the promise of rain after a dry summer. you give me something that makes me wish it was more. makes me wish it was more than just a friendship thing, makes me wish it was that way. while i do value what we have, i want more. I want you. I want to love you and you love me back. Is that too much? Im sick of second guessing myself, i want to open myself up to you, share my thoughts, passion. i want you to open up to me too, tell me what scares you so that I may comfort you.

Im locked up, no key to the door. the prison is somewhere in the expanse between friendship and love. the gatewarden is a selfish prick. Im not allowed to see the sun, feel its warmth on my white skin. I cant even look twice at the female inmates. when i shower, its got to be to stay clean, not relax. i'm not allowed to enjoy it, cos its cold outside and the water is colder, they must run it thru a fridge first, just to spite the inmates and laugh at their shrinking dicks. the other inmates dont seem to notice where they are, why they got there, or even bother to think of a way to get out. the prison is located on a great spire, it stretches too high for a man to survive a fall into the warm waters below. we know its warm cos it cant be as cold as it is in here.

then she walks past my cage. the sun shines indoors for her. she looks my way the way she does everyday and waves hello. its torment, how can she be so kind in a place so cold? can't she see im hurting? does she know she's even here? IS SHE HERE? She brings both grief and happiness to my world, like the taste of sweet liquer, it feels great but removes my conciousness, my self-control. my self worth.

Wait, she's waving to the next inmate too! How can she! She's meant to wave to me only! HOW CRUEL! I cant tell her that shes my everything. Thats unfair right? I think its unfair to bottle up something so beautiful. I dont care really how she's feel about it. Knowing someone out there feels that way about me would be a KICKASS feeling! But what if I didnt like them? Ouch. needle pinches as it enters. It delivers its payload and Im subdued again. fuck these drugs. You cant go to rehab for this.

I just want to jump from the prison windows. I would live for the rush, knowing ive escaped. I would die in the hands of the warmth. I would die happy. I want her to jump with me.

I take you in my hands, you fit snug, more snug than my own hand. it feels good. nothing can replace that feeling, that your sense of touch is provoked, aroused by someone else. no longer is it you sending a echoing relay of impulse, but an external source reaching out for reciprocation. I stroke, ploughing your fertile earth with sharp steel. the earth is turned over, rejuvenated. then you touch me back, it sparks my internal engine into life. goddamn, this sounds too pornoish.

So, here we all are, mulling on, again. I look at my hands, my tendons and veins show from below. when they look so scaly, so boney, does that mean they are not capable of love. i had such a vivid dream, there we were, out in the open, free countryside, just her and I. i liked her. it was the kissing, nothing more, except that closeness. it wasnt about sex, it wasnt about the prelude to sex, it was just that moment. my lips mingled with hers. i feel her breathe inside me and i in her. we are at our most honest. im totally focused on her, giving her my all. then he comes along, and wants to chase us out of the potato plantation. its not even his frikkin plantation. he was watching us as well. what a freak!. but i think back about the closeness, and its all worth it. i ignore him.

ahh, to retire, young. i dream of leather sandals, bicycle, italian villa, fresh bread. open breezy shirt, shorts, sunglasses and a good book. similar aged soulmate, tall, independent, free-thinking, and just slightly busty :P the smell of fresh ground coffee in a filter, lazy sun stretching its beam thru the open shutters. no other sound but the water carelessly scraping the rocks down below. the wind, moving softly thru the trees, leaves falling, green leaves. she comes to me, on the porch overlooking the bay. shes dressed in a collared short sleeve shirt, top 2 buttons open and untucked. short shorts showing off her long and elegant legs. she smells of vanilla, its almost addictive. her hair waving in the soft breeze, fresh, natural. her eyes drive me wild, especially when she looks at me that way. the sun descends towards the horizon, we sit there, talking. she has produced another loving cup of coffee, one that i'll never be able to recreate. theres no pressure, no external stress. just us. she wants nothing except my love, which i offer freely. i want nothing, but to know she knows i love her. the kind where u dont need gifts. the kind that means she'll never love another but me, even in death. her back, just above her shorts is warm and receptive to my hand. with that touch she knows many things. i reach up, tickling her spine, slipping my arm underneath her shirt. we just lie there, soaking up the retreating sun, faces into the breeze. her cheek is against mine, then she slips her head down like im her father, and she loves her dad. shes listening to my easy heart-beat. i rest my chin on top of her head and embrace her. she feels safe in my arms. then my leg starts getting sore and i grin and bear it, cos nothing can stop this moment. this is perfect.

Gradually the catamaran moves with the receding tide, we're blissfully unaware of the boats gradual motion out towards deep water. But thats OK, cos we're moving with it. Im belly down in water, with my head below the surface. There is a clicking sound coming from beneath the numerous finger corals. Its almost eerie, there should be no sound down here save our kicking in the water. The water is just cool enough to feel it, the sun heats my back. This is perfect. You're here, in this liquid kingdom with me. After a few hours semi-submerged, I get back onboard and help you up. In the frige there is fresh fruit juice and the sandwiches we prepared earlier. Nourishing baguettes, cut into small portions exposing the fillings of roast beef, gouda cheese, tomato and of course fresh ground pepper. We sit there on the deck, the sun gently greeting the ocean at the end of our scope. The sun and horizon become one, there is love all around.

I'm so cross with myself over you. You complete me then break me. Why? I realise just how much you take advantage of me, and it hurts. I don't want to be in this situation, I'm afraid of the grey. Why can't it just be black and white hmm? Instead you leave me trapped here in no-mans-land, halfway between the gutter and stars. I'm just a mealpacket in the wind, swept up in this maelstrom you call your life. I'm dodging the hungry birds, and reaching for the trees to bring me back to ground.

Pop the cap, flick the drip
Pat the arm, insert the tip
Push the plunge, breathe in deep.
Release the pressure, fall fast asleep.

That is what you are for me
You're my drug, You're my symptoms.
You're evil yet required cos you're good.

You're bad for me, but you make me feel good.
When I don't see you, I feel alone.
When I'm with you, I feel alone.
When I'm not feeling alone, its cos I'm not thinking of you.
You break me, then make me.

You're like Morphine. You kill my pain, but I want to be in pain, so you can cure it, just for this hit, just for any hit. You feel so good, coursing through my veins, making me ignore my pain. But you put me in pain, you ARE my pain. The worst bit is, I don't know where to find you, you come to me, and I'm a junkie. I willfully oblige, I'm powerless. Every shot is timed. You're riding the highway to my heart, straight through the jugular. You're a super-car with a rod of flint igniting off the railing all the way on this one-way-route to bliss. You ignore the speed limit, carelessly over-taking molecules, avoiding the barriers with dilligent reflexes. You're accelerating as you near your intended destination, to deliver your payload of pleasure. Wait! I'm so unprepared for it! STOP! STOP BEFORE YOU KILL US BOTH! YOU'RE MAD! ARRRGGHHH AHHHHHHH ahhhhhhhhh, wooahhh, no ways. Wow! Do it again! What!? Why not?!? Come on for fucks sake! WHY?!?! What the fuck! GET OUTTA MY FACE! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN! WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME!

The following entries were dedicated to Magependragon...

Self-stream, a flow of thought and action, finds itself transferred to another medium. The medium doesn't matter, but the translation does. Its an artform, not the paint that paints it, but how it is painted... Its the stroke of the brush, the thick laying of media. The paint ripples behind the brush, leaving an undulated texture of chaos, that chaos that binds us. The finishing of the stroke thru the action. That paint, how simple it is, how it can be interpretated in so many ways, how it talks to people who are willing to listen. Its showing off for me, it dances before my eyes, seductively. Dances, dances in a way that defies my own inhibitions. It is a drug for thine eyes, carelessly I absorb it, and it absorbs me. We become one. I don't need a specific sense to know it is there, cos I can FEEL it. It touches me inside. I feel good.

Silohuetted against a setting sun sky is a magnificent oak tree. Its a wise old tree, a careful parent. Underneath its sheltering branches we spent some undying moments. Those sort of moments you'll dream of in your sleep in the next world. Hell, if the next world was to be perfect, it would be underneath that grand old oak tree. The wind whistles slowly through the leaves in the top branches, a soothing sound, giving the tree an impression of youthful animation. An aura of respect surrounds the tree for a hundred meters, here everything is in balance. I remember falling asleep in this idyll, I remember sleeping in its loving hands and you were there beside me. It was the sweat and blood of pleasant dreams. I remember waking with you. Your hair, joyfully playing with the wind, full of life. Your eyes, sparkling with anticipation. Your lips, ripe with flavour. Your face, in my hands. You're into me, and I into you. There is no distraction. How I wish this moment could go on and on and on, a memory is but a sad attempt at reincarnation. I know now that I'm ready to pass on, cos I have felt love to the core.

I'm a spirit, care-free-floating. I can go anywhere I want. I've been to all the ends of the earth, watching these silly mortals go about their little lives, lives that are miniscule next to the scheme of things. Theres one thing about these mortals though, they have the equal capacity for greatness as they do archaic evil. I'm just interested in the good though, I've been cataloguing it as it happens. But I'm worried, its waning. Evil has taken hold of these emotional lemmings. I can't help but think they're asking for it, the next deluge. The previous generation never teaches the next. Sure, they've tried, but the inheritors aren't even trying to listen and learn. Why is that so? Maybe its just a chronological influence, as you get older you come to realise theres more to life than getting to your destination. Who in their right mind would want to die? Is there a right mind? I move on, these humans tire me. There are much better beings to observe in this rich myriad we call life. My particular favourites include a race raised in the cradle of life itself. They've been around almost as long as I, and even they think like timeless lightsources, trapped in overbearing shells. There sense in lack of immortality punishes them, but they respect the cycle. They understand that their mortal life is a time of teaching, a time to understand yourself. I smile knowing that for ignorance there is also great insight.

Spiritual Enema

I'm so disappointed right now. For the last 3 hours I've been asking all those nasty questions like: How do I want to be remembered? How could I describe my life at this moment? Am I happy?

So I went for a "date" with DeeDee, it was more like meeting a new friend. Why does it have to feel like a date. I sorta want it to be a date, I think DeeDee could be a great partner through life, but why am I thinking that? Do I need a partner right now? What makes me ask that in the first place. I'm so confused right now.

I went into the date with too many expectations I guess, once again. I'm trying too hard to start everything right now. So, had a chat to our resident grey-kop-slash-wise-man Katarn, and we got talking about concepts of Zen, Karma, relationships, friendships etc. Katarn surprised me at first with his wealth of wisdom, objective view on life. Now I rely on it when I get the opportunity. Our chat got me thinking about my direction in life, my way of thinking.

How do I want to be remembered? Well, I think I'd be happy knowing that people knew I was happy through life, or developed a zest for life. Someone who set goals and achieved them. Someone that loved and was loved. Someone that would be missed. How goes that plan right now Shaun? I'll get back to you on that :P

How would I describe my life right now? I'm an emotional traveller. I have suffered but I'm trying hard to be positive, this road is rough, but I'm wearing my new boots. I don't have much to my name and part of me wants to keep it that way, it means I'm more mobile. At times I feel empty or unappreciated but I know my time is coming. There is always room for improvement.

Am I happy? I have everything to live for. An exciting career, enough money to keep me out of debt, dreams, friends, family. Am I happy?!?! I'm trying hard. There are times like now, where I put on some emotional music, question my happiness and I just want to cry the healthy cry. Come on Shaun, Are you happy or not! Fuck. Music makes me happy. Knowing I'm loved makes me happy. Knowing I'm accepted makes me happy. Why should the happiness of others over me dictate my own happiness? I want to be selfish but I can't, I'd feel unhappy about it.

Emptiness, cold-dark and lonely. Destination: Happiness, warm-light and lovely. I am that man on the road, journeying alongside the highway of life. I'm not looking for a lift, my feet work fine, but an offer wouldn't hurt. One step after the next, each step forward is a step closer to the horizon. My shoes don't fit me just right, they're too new. The laces come undone too easily too. I want to ride my bike rather, but I realise that would be cheating. I've just gotta keep on walking, through the sleet, through the harsh sun, through the refreshing breezes, through the meadows accompanied by the jubilent twittering of jays and larks. I'm almost there, I'm getting used to the pace. What happens when I get there? I hope they've got a nice meal cooked for me. Who is gonna be at the end? I want to see familiar faces there. I want to feel like I've arrived home. Isn't my home here on the highway, am I not just a beggar of the bi-ways? I wander into the road like a drunk, I am roadkill. There are no cars while I stumble on the asphalt, not a car in sight. Typical.

I feel better now, thanks for being here.

Hopeless / O'Bliss

What an awesome week I've had, I hope all 3 of you reading are jealous, just cos I used the word "awesome" again. Friday morning, woke up at 0430, cruised through to the airport at 0530 only to queue for an hour. Its all worth it I guess since the ticket cost R550 return (be jealous some more mortals!)

Friday was tiring, helping out with the wedding plans, since I was staying with the family. I haven't seen these people for 4 years but it felt like I was just there yesterday. I've never drunk so much over such an extended period. Saturday was better, went to see some more folks, catch up on the happenings. One such enlightening topic of conversation was the following...

A while back a dear family of friends lost their mother to a suicide. For ages we questioned why, such a selfish thing to do, especially with having 2 children to leave behind. Well, those questions were answered in a way, turns out the father was an abuser. While suicide is not the answer, I can understand why such action was taken. Problem is, the lesson hasn't been learnt and the father is still an abusive prick. even to his new s/o.

If there was one theme for this week though, it would have to be love. The wedding was beautiful, the bride and groom made a picture-perfect couple, relatives came from far and wide yet the reception reeked of debauchery. I have never seen people trying so hard to get drunk. I have never seen such open pervertedness in the form of the groom's father, chatting and getting vatterig with all the women except his wife at the wedding reception. A stuffed up speech from the father of the bride. Such things happen I guess, pass me another beer please Mr. Waiter. But wow, such gorgeous women. :) (Before and after the beers, or was I merry the whole weekend?!?) Didn't have much oppurtunity to ask for phone numbers and such, as they either had jocks attached to their shoulders or I didn't bother. Do I have to bother?

Sunday, met up with some more mates, caught up on old times, watched some TV for the first time in months. ("Birdy" is a hectic psychological drama.) Monday was equally chilled, and ended when I flew back at 2000, 45 minutes of chatting, to a special someone. So I asked for her number... :) Ever have that, where you talk, and she/he listens and actually adds value to the conversation? I felt like I could talk to her about anything and she would still be interested. I'm looking forward to meeting her a second time, She's great.

In that moment I wore my heart on my sleeve. I was open for abuse, but also open to honesty, love, compassion. She had the key, opened my lock with a click, the key was engineered to fit. Inside, machinations occured, it was a natural process. Why did it have to be locked in the first place? With a creaky tug, the door popped open and all the goodness from within was revealed. Eyes onto focused retinas relayed images of a bond. A hand reach in and touched the inside. Touch is the best of the 5 senses without a doubt. Its eternal, occurs all over, works both ways. Sight is selfish, sound is selective, smell is 1 dimensional, taste is tasteless, but when two people come together and touch, there is a conduit of feeling, a bridge of thought. Don't abuse it.

hello, goodbye

Back from an awesome break. Feeling wasted-tired, will feel wasted-tired tomorrow too when I wake up at 0430.
I'm reading ChickenHawk by Robert Mason, an autobiography by a American Vietnam Chopper Pilot. Just what I need to read: war stories are great emotional trips, add my dreams of being a chopper pilot and you've got a book I actually WANT to read. In between the reading I was somewhere halfway to Maputo, enjoying the crisp escarpment air, wild sounds and of course the smell of thatch and bushveld. Oh, and coughing on second-hand tobacco smoke. *sigh*. 3/5 days were spent indoors due to the rain, but it was great to be out there again. The house we stayed in was absolutely amazing, dressed to the nines, making JHB North homes look like houses-of-cards. 7 of us, our own bush-spotting land rover and 5 days to do anything we wanted. So we drank, played games, drove the "landie" stukkend. :)

I can like to wear a jean pant

Its been good to be distant for a while, switched off my cellphone, and focused on chilling out. What really irked me about the weekend was the total lack of nature-appreciation. Are we losing touch?

There I was, finally alone. I was at my most humble here, naked in thought. I understood the balance, the right and the wrong, equal in measure but never dealt when not required. I lived off the land and the land lived off me. That moment was all defining, when it stood out of the bush and motioned towards me. Sheepishly watching my reaction,s ready to bolt at a hint of aggresiveness. Humans can't be trusted. I stood still until I realised how I looked. Knees in the earth, face in the grass I opened myself up. She dropped her guard a little and came closer. I could smell her now. Warm, wet, her tongue tickled my ear, I chuckled under my breath then slowly let it out, she continued. I lifted my head and felt loved.

night, goodmorning.

DruggedDepression

You love me so, You hate me so. I love you too, I wish you could visit more often. People from outside want to split us apart, who do they think they are! We were born, bred, matured for each other! Where are you going? Don't leave me! You need me as much as I need you, we're like the ocean and the land, we make beaches, we craft rock scultures. Our creations are uniquely beautiful. We cannont exist without eachother. Exist! One S short and you're gone. Come back! What do I have if you're gone?! Gayness, thats what. Happy bouncing, its silly. I don't want to smile, I like to frown, feel down, so down. Get back here you grey fader! I feel empty.

Depression is addictive. I've been to rehab. :)

Appearance vs Cancer

So, today was shaveathon day, yesterday like a big deal I setup a pact with Carla that if she dyes her hair, or even better, attempts to shave it off I would do the same. Carla chickened out as I thought she would (for a shave that is), but it was still fun trying to instil some nerves :) So, I went along and similarly copped out and got a number 2, to at least give my scalp some sunshine for a week or so. Next week, its coming off! Oh, that reminds me, I'm not here next week! \o/ Back to the subject at hand, Many guys were getting their pips scoured, so they were really getting into the spirit of things, but I couldn't help but think how many of the people were truly doing it for Cancer... Thats my curse.

Carla and I had a one-sided chat on the image thing, How many girls can really say they can shave their heads and not feel anything? How many guys for that matter? I was worried about the image thing in my own instance. Why do we have to conform to a social template? What or who engineered this social template? I think hollywood has its part to play in many social aspects, such as image, relationships, style. Are we doomed to die as Narcissus? "One day Narcissus fell in love with his own reflection in a spring and, in desperation, killed himself."

Tomorrow, pay R50 for a good cause, and a bad haircut. :)

My scheduled lack of appearance

Quite the schedule for a home-boi, Sunday morning, mission off to a private game farm in Lydenburg owned by Roxanne's (Dave's girlfriend) family. (... garden-boy's-ex-lover's-dogwalker ...), return Thursday, only to get onto a Durban bound plane early on Friday for the weekend-long wedding of a distant family friend, then crawl back into the office on Monday afternoon. Phew.

The game farm is gonna rock, Just about 8 or so of us, a well-stocked holiday retreat, starry skies. I've been missing doing such things, As a kid we always used to be in the bush, in touch with Nature. (No, not like uDu style :P) I used to be a keen bird-watcher, feathered variety too, but you kinda get bored of these dodgy Indian Myna's in urban life. Taking the bike, hiking shoes and floppy hat along too, can't wait to hit some jeep trails! Thankfully / Unfortunately the game farm doesn't have any obnoxiously dangerous animals, which means daywalks are allowed unguided - just gotta watch out for them leopards.

The Wedding is going to be another saga on its own. I hate churches. I like the philosopy that is religion, but you won't catch me being one of the sheep, err, lambs. I haven't seen Debby for ages, I just hope her fiance isn't a total jock, she's always deserved better than beer-slugging rugby-watching womanisers. Anyway, going with my Mom, which will be kewl, haven't seen her for 3 months. :/ So yeah, I'll be there, watching another union. Just as much as I hate churches, I think marriage is just as useless. Well, thats my dad's fault, say no more.

Blogging, Journalling and me

I face a dilemna. Do I write for me, or write for my buds? Keeping a journal has always been a way to get things off my shoulders, writing down intimate thoughts and reviewing them later.

I started a livejournal after not doing much research into blogging, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. I like and respect the community features as magependragon pointed out, but I don't have as much control over the content as I would have liked (and have found on blogspot). I think I'll just mirror blogs... Maybe look at totally hacking the Stylesheet Overrides for LiveJournal. OK, so I'm an aspiring web-standards-developer, I want my sites to look good, and behave themselves technically, Livejournal is limited that way.

More than just technical standards, why am I blogging anyway? Maybe its kinda selfish, but I write for me first. Its also an experiment in getting my emotions out there, an experiment in becoming an Extrovert. INFP becomes ENFP? This I gotta see, magependragon would understand :)

Falling in Love is hard on the needs

Love, mutual love, true love, have you ever tried it? When you say: "I love you", do you know that you don't really need to say it? Does she know that you love her? I'm still open to the idea of the relationship built on love, I'm still open to the idea that your soulmate is alive and well, you're just not keeping your eyes open through your journey of life. Funny how others think that is a total pipe-dream. If you stop looking for Mrs. Right, you won't find them.

Get out the car, talk a walk around, smell the flowers bud. Yes, that is sunlight beaming down on you, it warms you up from the inside. Thats where I'll find you, warming under the rays. You'll be carefree, dressed for you. You're somteimes a dirty driver through life, you push others off the road and then feel terrible afterwards, stopping the car and turning around, just to make sure your hapless victim is OK under the circumstances. Most of the time though, you're patient, stopping to let the wild-life cross the road, admiring the innocent beauty. You enjoy the ride through life, as it defines you. You can't stand the BMW's and Porches of the road, how can people be so vain and arrogant! They're always driving in the emergency lane too, "That part of the road has a purpose you selfish prick." you mutter to yourself. When you pull over, you can't help but notice how fast these people drive! What the hell is their hurry. You hardly see anyone stopped by the side of the road when you're travelling, its weird that way. Life is a choice of roads, sometimes the route plan is made up far in advance, other times congestion in the roads or convenience dictates your choice of Bi-way. I wonder where that puts a traffic cop? Mom, I never knew you were a Spietkop! *gasp* What about road construction or alterations? What about traffic lights and pavements? What happens when you run a red-light? Where do all these roads go...