Every Movement Requires a Few Martyrs' Journal

3:20AM

Inspired by A Warm Safe Place by Nine Inch Nails
There was at least thirty miles standing between Sei and his home. The battle was over. He stood alone in the blood soaked fields, nothing around him but felled soldiers from Kyoto and Oda province. He and his army had fought bravely and decisevly and as such, stood the victor of the battle.
What had happened? Everyone had already left, and many days had passed, he did not know how many, though. He did know he had to get home to Myoko. He longed for her, as well as his home. He had gained glory and would bring it home to her. The walk would take days, but it would be worth it.
The platings of his armor were dragging him down the more he walked. He was sure that he would never make it home wearing these adornments. He no longer cared for the sanctity of the battle field, after seeing what it trully was, the horrors of it, so he shed his armor and began walking in earnest. His swords swayed at his side, not heavy, but definatly there. The presence of them was annoying, but they also reassured him of the threat of thiefs hoping to get gold and fame from killing a samurai. He held them where they were, even though their just being there was becoming a constant reminder of the travesties of war.
He soon left the battle field, and he was glad for it, no more rotting bodies to step over, no more pools of stagnant blood to slip through. He stood on a hill-side and surveyed the land-scape, the hills in front of him, his path and a deep wooded valley to his left, the fields of battle to his right with their grim spectors and behind him, fields as far as heaven. They were empty, but they were beautiful, green and nothing more. The light was failing fast, so he made his trek in earnest.
The forest was thick, but it was still passable, even with long branches scratching at his weather beaten face. But he continued walking, not noticing if blood was present or not. He walked low and took long deliberate strides, his sandaled feet not making much noise as he sped through the woods.
The battle and being with the military had made him stronger, he noticed. He breathed easier, and he could run for longer stretches, no longer needing to rest as much as he had for months prior to being enlisted. He thought ahead to home and how Myoko looked, how she acted. She always had a smile on her face, at least when he was around, and there were never any fights between them. She knew how he longed to be out there, where everything was, fame and glory, everything. She really worried about him though, any good wife would worry about her husband's welfare when he's abroad.
And there it was, the hill where his army had camped the week before battle. He stood and puzzled for a moment, not knowing how he had covered so much ground so quickly. He gazed over the forest, and couldn't even see the stretch of land that marked the battle ground. As for the camp site, it was deserted. There had been a fire recently, but how recently, he had no way of telling. He gazed up at the sky, and it was still gray, with clouds lingering over the sun, almost seeming to not move. It was here that his swords began to bother him more than ever; walking through the deserted camp site. It was more of an irritant, and more of an unsightly blemish on his side. They had scratched his skin raw, but his clothes were still intact, not caring how this was, he decided on a whim that he would place the blades where his commander had slept, as a sign of fealty. His commander had died quickly in the battle, an archer pierced the plating on his breast. He was a good man, if not a little hard to get along with when it came time to pack up and leave. Sei didn't shed a tear, for he knew that his commander died in glory and was now smiling over him. As the blades hit the matted grass, Mei felt something tug, but he ignored it. Was it regret? No, he was proud. He had served his province well, and now came home to his village in glory.
He wasted no time, but once again took up the path that took him home. Now it was much easier tredding. He walked through a mountain path, keeping his knees bent, and nearly sprinting over the rocky ground. On either side of him, there were tall green hills, the path cutting straight through them. It was here that he once again noticed a familiar scratching at his side. He looked down and saw his blades, swinging back and forth, in step with his running. He stopped, his head spinning, and took a hold of the blades, affirming that they were in his hands, that they were corporeal. His eyes went wide as his hands touched solid metal, and realized that he held his swords as sure as the sky was above him. In a fit, he threw them aside, one to each side of the path. He had no time to worry about this, he had to be home, he needed it.
He wasn't weary, he didn't need to rest, all he did was run the whole path, going down each fork as if his feet knew exactly which direction to go. The clouds didn't shift, and the sun never came out. Every town he passed, every little encampment he came to, he worried why he was moving so fast and not showing any sign of fatigue. Had he slept? Had he slowed and sat down? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember eating, or moving his bowels, anything. All he could remember is his ceaseless running. He came to the small clearing and knew that he was less than a mile from home. Smoke stood above the trees that lined his village site, it was gray and soft; cooking fires from the homes inside. He knew he was nearly a foot-step from home.
He entered the trees and crossed into his village. All was as he remembered it. It was small, but it was comfortable. There were no people out, but he could have his welcome home after he had seen Myoko. Their home stood in a small glade and he knew the way home better than anyone ever would. He stepped through the paths and over grass he had stepped through for decades. Somehow it seemed new to him. Somehow he had never felt this happy to see his home, to see his little village.
As he stepped into the glade, he could hear her singing, as she always did when she hung the clothes to dry outside of their home. Ignoring the chaffing at his side, he walked forward, and ducked by a bush, wanting to spring up behind her. He knew it was cruel, but he couldn't resist.
Her back was to him, he could see her long black hair hanging down to her waist as she skillfully hung her clothes. It was then he noticed a large man's shirt being hung up next to hers. His head spun again, but he ignored it, perhaps she had her father visiting, or there was a soldier boarding at their home. He saw the man standing in the door-way of their home, he was smiling down at her, his eyes on every graceful sweep of her hands. Sei knew what the man felt, and wouldn't stand for it, he stood and being striding towards the man, shouting for his attention. But the man's attention wasn't gained, Myoko continued her peaceful singing until the basket was empty of clothes. She turned and Sei saw that her stomach was swolled with child.
How could this be? Sei could never conceive with her...Sei was enraged now and ran at the man accusing him of rape and everything else he could think of. He braced himself for impact on the man, hoping to knock him over by surprise, but passed straight through him as Myoko and the man embraced, lovingly.
Sei lost his balance and fell to the ground, looking up at his beloved with wide astonished eyes. He suddenly remembered. His captain...the arrow from the would be assasin. Sei had dove in front of the arrow and was felled by it instead of his captain. He wasn't here to come home, he was here to say goodbye. He stood in front of Myoko and her new husband, for that's what Sei realized the man was. He stood and said farewell to Myoko, and finally felt himself phasing from Japan, and to the afterlife along with the swords at his sides.

7:28PM - Fuck sticks afire

Do I even need to explain why this comic is a fucking travesty? First of all, it is not the video game companies responsablity to censor themselves so that you don't have to watch your fucking kids. Just the same as it isn't the film industry or any other industry's responsability. When will videogames become legitimate? I don't know, but I hope it'll be soon before fuckwads start passing ordanances. As soon as you stop letting your kids alone in favor of your own activities, leaving the videogames as a babysitter, there will be less kids being violent because of them. Kids should play kid videogames, teenagers should play teenager videogames, and adults should play adult videogames, simple as fucking that. Yes, you cannot watch your kids all the time and cannot keep them from playing violent videogames at their friends house, but you cannot keep them from watching violent movies over at a friends house either. You cannot keep them from the violence, you cannot keep them from harm, but you can have a safe haven from all of that.
But hey, you old farts have advice for the videogame industry, I have some advice for you, don't get off your rocking chair to complain about shit you DON'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND!

Btw, old fuck, NO ONE BOUGHT POSTAL 2!!!!

5:17AM - Actually, I do know what I want.

I made a mistake, a bit in the past, and it was a doozy. I still pay for this mistake and I have a feeling I will for the rest of my life. The real pain is seeing this mistake face to face nearly every day. I'm being upfront and I don't give a shit anymore, this needs to be out of me, and so it will be. I'm still in love with Cindy. I never stopped loving her with all that I am. When I really think about it, stop and think for a second as to why I dumped her as I did, I realize one thing: I am not the man she deserves. She deserves so much more than me, and now she has it. Rich is way more of a man than I could ever be, he is a better boyfriend, he is more attentive and he is there for her. Not only that but he's good with Tommy and I never could be. So I got my wish, I suppose. I broke up with her because she deserves better than me, and she got better than me. It really sucks now, knowing what I do, knowing that I love her as much as I do, and nothing will ever come of that love. All I have left of our time together is a few painful reminders of what I used to have and how wonderful it was. What a beautiful girl she is, inside and out, and how in the end, I wasn't the one who would end up with her. Maybe it's a self-perpetuated hell, but that's what it is nonetheless: Hell. And I come to realize what hell really is, full realization of your mistake and being punished for it constantly. I know why I did it, and I know the immense heart-break that I caused her. I was her first love and I broke her heart. And for that, I deserve worse than what I have, but maybe seeing her so happy and so in love is punishment enough. But, despite my feelings, despite my pain and longing, I am still immeasurably happy for Rich and Cindy and as much as it pains me to say this, I wish them all the happiness and luck in the world. They both deserve each other and all the joy that they will bring each other. I promised her I will never break another promise ever again, and I haven't broken any yet, that I am aware of. I promised her that I would never smoke again, even though the temptation is constant, but the bigger promise is this: I would never stop loving her, and I would never not tell her I love her. And I know neither of those will ever falter.

1:16AM

I don't know what I want anymore...

4:18AM - Blah

You ever have one of those moments where you just, don't know where or who you are anymore? I'm just, I don't know where I fit in anymore. I never really have. This is one of those moments where I reveal a little bit about myself, so prepare yourself, kids.
I've always wondered why I was important enough to be born. That's why I try my best to be a good person, such, because sentience is just such a wonderful thing. Lately, though, it's like I'm seeing my life in a third person kinda thing, where I can see myself acting and doing things, but I feel so detached because I'm always thinking about my friends and how I relate to them. Who is really my friend, who will stand beside me when I need them the most everything like that. Kyrie, your the only one that reads this anymore, I think. I don't know about Ashley, and Heather's never home anymore. I hope I didn't scare away Ashley, I hope I didn't mess things up there because she is like, one of my most treasured friends. As if the rest of my friends aren't worthwhile...they are. As John Lennon said, "I've loved you all." or something like that. Maybe someday I'll know where I fit, if I do even then. I just want to know what I'm good for. I always joke about being a cosmic punching bag, but when I think about it, I always wonder why I was put through the things I was. I know I had it relatively easy compared to others, but I still can't help but wonder. Kyrie told me the other day that I should go out and have adventures, and I want to, but I don't want to be alone. I know I'm pulling this out of Ghost World, but it gave me the courage to publicly admit this: A fantasy of mine has always been to just...disapear. I want to take a friend or two with me and just...fall off of everyone's radar. I don't know for how long or anything like that, but goddammit I want to see the world and I want to do some good in it. There is no better reason for life or living other than this: to leave the world a better place than you came into it. I will, I promise I will.

4:14AM - So

I just watched The Breakfast Club for the first time tonight. It was a good film, except for the cop-out thing with the goth chick turning pretty at the end. Because we all know that the goths and the punks and all the other weirdos all really want to be normal and accepted by those that have shunned them their entire lives. I may be speaking for the whole, I may be speaking out of my ass, but I need to get my end-in. I am weird, strange, etc. because I am awkward. I over-exagerate my oddities so that I can play off the fact that I am never comfortable in any public setting. I am not comfortable in any public setting because I was trained into that line of thinking by all the 'normal' kids. I was trained to not step out of line, to keep quiet and stay out of that line, otherwise I'll get the shit beaten out of me, as was normal before I hit the fourth grade. I have continued this low profile for my entire existence because I am so used to it. And I will never forget who made me into who I am, and I am eternally grateful: The Normal Kids. The popular ones, whatever you call them, never accepted me, and always kept me outside of their borders. I admit, there are times that I just wanted to give up and be accepted by them, but after careful thinking I know I would hate myself eternally if I ever changed for the sake of anyone but myself. It is the person that I am now that I am proud of, and nothing else. I am not proud to be an American, I am not proud to be a Spiritualistic Atheist, I am not proud to be an intellectual. I am proud of the fact that I dare myself every day to be different, to step out of line, and dare others to make me get back into my line. There is no longer anyone holding me back, and how dare anyone, especially any of my friends, make fun of who I am, how I dress anything like that. I earned my right to dress how I like, to wear my hair how I like, etc. with all the bullshit I had to deal with when I was young. I earned my right to be different every time I remember how hard I had it when I was being pushed down and beaten the shit out of by the cool kids. And how dare anyone tell me that all I want is a little acceptance, that I want to belong with them and be a part of their little cultures and communities.

Otherwise, good film. I liked it.

5:13PM - The greatest thing you'll ever know...

Is just to love and be loved in return. You know, I've only been in love once and I trully believe that it is both the most wonderful and most awful thing in the world. Love is, more than freedom, more than peace, more than religion, the only thing worth fighting and dying for. As hardned as I pretend to be, as gritty and realistic is I try to be, I cannot hide from the fact that love is the most awe-inspiring thing that has ever happened to anyone. Ever since I was in love, I have yearned to be in it yet again, but it hasn't happened. I find myself faced with someone that I couldn't fall in love with, and rejection from those that I could fall in love with, and what else is there? To stand up and try again, because that is all that is worth while in this whole world. There is nothing else in this world that I would lay my life down for, than for someone that I love and care for. It all pales, and wastes away. Only love is eternal. It sends waves out, echoing through all of time and makes all of our most horrible mistakes, our wars, our genocides, our shitty movies, seem like they have never happened. To lay in someone's arms, and know that they love you, that is trully the most wonderful thing. And to get there again, I would fight until I can no longer stand. I guess this is what makes the stories about religion, about anything, stand through time, that there is someone or something that loves you and would always do so for all of time. That makes everything, every pain, every hardship worth it, somehow. Will I ever be in love again? With all of the luck I have been having with relationships, etc.? I have no doubt in my mind that I will be again. But for right now, I'l just think about love, and what it is. I'll watch sad movies with love themes and silently cry, wishing that there was someone out there who would do that for me. I will listen to sad love songs and feel my heart aching for someone that will love me unconditionally.
When I was younger, I was a devout catholic, and I would go to Catetcism classes every saturday morning. We eventually got to the subject of love, and how God should always be first in our hearts. That never made sense to me, how you could marry someone, and they wouldn't be first in your heart. How your parents, your friends could never be first in your heart. And I guess I made a silent vow that day, that the person I would fall in love with, would always, ALWAYS be the first in my heart.

10:16PM

You know, I haven't been 'on track' my entire life. I have not been going anywhere throughout the entirety of my existence, I will admit that. Whether by my own hand, or by someone else's I have always been pulled back from succeeding or doing what I need to do. And now I finally have a grasp of that track. I'm driving a lot, and I think I'm nearly ready to take my driver's test so I can get my job. I still get no credit, I still get the line of shit where I'm not doing anything with my life, I'm not achieving anything, and on and on and on. I'm sick and tired of it. I know I've never had a job or a license or anything like that, but I'm trying my hardest to get those things now, and I just feel like I get no recognition for it. I still have, pretty much no idea where my personal life is going, but more on that in a little bit. But I know everything'll be better in two or three months, I know it will be. I just hope that, once I start school again, I'll get on track with that as well. I want to be a teacher and at the very least I want to be a writer. Scratch that, I NEED to be a writer and moments like this really sucks, I'm too fucking angry to write a single word in my book. That's what sucks about being a writer I guess, you gotta be in a perfect mood, otherwise shit ain't comin out.

3:44PM - Rocky Horror

Picture Show was last night/this morning, however you look at it, it was a blast. Me and Ashley got to Kyrie's house at about ten, and we spent about an hour getting myself and Kyrie dressed. I was wearing a black slip thing that barely came to my knees and this weird shirt, along with my knee-high boots. Then came the make-up that I'm STILL trying to get off. Anyway, we got to the theatre at a little before twelve and I felt so...NORMAL. It was so rad, the movie didn't start until about one and thirty, and the time between twelve and one and thirty was filled with getting immersed in the whole Rocky experience. When the movie started everyone immediatly began yelling at and along with it. It was my first time so I really didn't know how to follow along with the yelling or anything. It was the weirdest thing when we were surrounded by all these Rocky fans and me and Kyrie were the only ones that were singing along with the songs, everyone was either yelling, or just watching. Oh, and Hedwig is playing on Friday, gotta go to that, I really mean that, I might even be able to get Rich into going, since he likes it, but then again, he's broke. Anyway, we got back into town around four. Dropped Kyrie off and went to Denny's. Realized that Kiki forgot her phone and other things in Ashley's car I put them in my bag. Got home close to five. Got in bed immediatly and after a large amount of tossing and turning, fell asleep at around six and thirty, and here I am. Fun, huh?

10:33PM - Alright, so!

I want to start a webcomic, badly. I would want to make an actual comic book, but it takes so much effort and if it doesn't get picked up by consumers then I've just wasted a lot of people's time, but with a webcomic, that's free nonetheless, I have a higher chance of people viewing it and liking it. So, I need a webmaster and an artist both of whom should be willing to work on a very dark and cyber-punk adventure of a Golem created by an unnamed god for the sole purpose of judging how much longer the human race should be allowed to exist. It's set in the far future, and features an immortal librarian who ages but refuses to die; he's also read every book ever written. I know, it's a real advent when someone creates a serious webcomic, not to mention a hand-drawn one. I wrote an email to Brian Clevinger (guy that does 8-bit theatre) to see if he could help me out with it, seeing as how we're both struggling writers with aspirations of greatness. So yeah, the art-style that I'm looking for is a very dark and murky pseudo manga, with a lot of Cyber Punk touches, not to mention the whole 'man's inhumanity to man' thing. I don't know how much it will do, having this information posted in a journal that maybe three-four people read. So yeah, I need help, email me if you are able to help, or if you know someone that might help.
Further help needed: Did I eat today?

4:36AM - tre early

I'm writing this cause I just remembered: The first song that Meet the Virus sung, well, the lead singer sounded like she was saying "Tifa fighting" over and over. I dunno...weird. sleep now.

12:15AM - THANK YOU JAMI!!!!

Showcase was fucking rad. I mean, wow. I love the people there, all so unique and considerate and cool and everything. I got there at around seven, found Ashley and gave her the data disc of every Doors song ever written, I hope she likes it. Anyway, 46 Short couldn't show, but oh well cause, with the exception of the first band (they couldn't even play 3 chords, they made it simple and played the same one, over and over) all the bands were fucking awesome. There were only three problems with the night, one of them stays with me, the second was that there was this guy, not more than fifteen who was vomitting due to alcohol-shit, and then the third was I dehydrated so I didn't mosh. Fucking sucks. I'm never drinking. Oh, hey, interesting stuff: apparantly I have said fuck 52 times since I started this thing. Wow. I'm not bored enough to count the rest of the vulgarities, but rest assured, there's a lot. Once again, thank you Jami, my Deadjournal looks incredible, and it's all thanks to you. Your the best. My ears are still ringing, no more standing in front of the speakers for Ryan.

3:53PM - MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

schizoid


Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla

*Raises his shotgun* Now get off mah land!

3:27AM - This ain't news but...

I hate American Idol and all it represents. The people that 'compete' for stardom are not artists, they are not musicians, they are merely singers vying for attention from the masses, which means they must be good, right? Wrong. Music is one of the highest echalons of art in this existence, and the fact that so much shit has been called music in the pursuit of money and fame, makes me fucking sick. And now to see a show like American Idol making people famous just on the basis of how well the can croon, and not based on any artistic endeveavors makes me want to...ummm...Kill someone, or something. Yeah, that's it. I'm pissed off. I want a boyfriend and I'm pissed off at the fact that it's so hard to hook up with gay males. Fuck. Fuck and hell. That's the stuff. Yeah

8:11PM - Thank you, my dear and sweet Kiki

And the angel of the lord came unto me, snatching me up from my place of slumber. And took me on high, and higher still until we moved to the spaces betwixt the air itself. And he brought me into a vast farmlands of our own midwest. And as we descended, cries of impending doom rose from the soil. One thousand, nay a million voices full of fear. And terror possesed me then. And I begged, "Angel of the Lord, what are these tortured screams?" And the angel said unto me, "These are the cries of the carrots, the cries of the carrots! You see, Reverend Maynard, tomorrow is harvest day and to them it is the holocaust." And I sprang from my slumber drenched in sweat like the tears of one million terrified brothers and roared, "Hear me now, I have seen the light! They have a consciousness, they have a life, they have a soul! Damn you! Let the rabbits wear glasses! Save our brothers!" Can I get an amen? Can I get a hallelujah? Thank you Jesus. Life feeds on life feeds on life feeds on life feeds on...

But, this, my dear and beloved Kiki, is necessary...

It was daylight when you woke up in your ditch. You looked up at your sky then. That made blue be your color. You had your knife there with you too. When you stood up there was goo all over your clothes. Your hands were sticky. You wiped them on your grass, so now your color was green. Oh Lord, why did everything always have to keep changing like this. You were already getting nervous again. Your head hurt and it rang when you stood up. Your head was almost empty. It always hurt you when you woke up like this. You crawled up out of your ditch onto your gravel road and began to walk, waiting for the rest of your mind to come back to you. You can see the car parked far down the road and you walked toward it. "If God is our Father," you thought, "then Satan must be our cousin." Why didn't anyone else understand these important things? You got to your car and tried all the doors. They were locked. It was a red car and it was new. There was an expensive leather camera case laying on the seat. Out across your field, you could see two tiny people walking by your woods. You began to walk towards them. Now red was your color and, of course, those little people out there were yours too.

But Kiki, my true and beloved Kiki, what is trully ours? That is the question you must ask yourself now. What belongs to us? What we pay for? No, other people had to work to create what we buy. And it doesn't belong to THEM either. In a sense, we do not own anything, we are all just borrowing things from our great mother Earth

Can you not sense that we are but insects crawling across the face of a great thing? We are nothing but another form of life that feeds on more life that feeds on more life. All of us, Kiki, are connected and we all coexist on this planet together. Therefor it's all so very necessary that we do not own anything at all, for it is not ours. We are but thieves to our great and wonderful mother, our mother of Earth

And so what is the cost of our great thievery other than the theft of our very souls. As we 'evolve' and 'grow' we are seperated from the things that are real and the things that matter. We forget that we are natural creatures, all willing to do whatever it takes to live life as comfortably as possible. And we always forget that the other animals, the higher animals do not need our possessions, they do not need shelter, for they live along with the Earth, not against it.

So we become less than our animal brothers and sisters, we become human, which is like a dirty word. But, my wonderful and intelligent Kiki, we can escape this cycle, we can be free of the denigration of our species, we can become more than what we are. We must give up that which is 'ours' and give it back to our Mother, our Earth, which has so selflessly given us her bounty. We must all become true and we must live with our brothers and sisters, free of the boundries that we set between us and them. For that, and only that, is how we become with the Earth again.

The first three paragraphs are Disgustipated, by Tool. I was, as you can tell, talking to Kiki when I started all of this. I sent her the first three things, and she seemed sort of freaked out, so to further freak her out (I'm sorry Kiki, but I was having fun) I started to come up with the rest. And god DAMN if it all doesn't sound very cool. Input is welcome!

4:47PM

There was a sharp jab in his right thigh, along with the distinct sound of tearing fabric. He cursed under his breath and continued to dig, pulling shards of destroyed metal out of his way to make his way towards the surface.
"Damn you." He said these words under his breath repeatedly, not caring if anyone heard him talking to himself; for all he knew, everyone in the city was dead, or dying. There was heat all around him, and he knew that there were numerous fires all around him, only seperated by a sheet or two of metal. It was chocking, the thick smoke that filled the small crevices that he burrowed through, but his training demanded that he live through this.
"Damn you to hell, you and your damned gold heart." He was sweating and bleeding heavily. He knew that his left leg was broken, along with a rib that had probably torn his lung. He had no idea how far he was from the surface, but there was no way he was going to die underneath the city he had blindly served under for so many years. So it was rather ironic, he had at first thought, that now he was buried underneath it.
"Reeve, if you weren't already dead, I'd kill you myself." There, he said it: Reeve was the whole cause of this, the reason that he was buried under the rubble, the reason that Elena and Rude, the only two people he could ever call friends, were dead. He would never believe it, but that piece of pillar had fallen on all three of them at the same time. The pyramid that Reno cast was probably the only thing that rescued him from a similar fate. Hadn't rescued his rib or his leg though, both of which would probably be really useful at this moment.
"How much further to the surface...? Please..." And he finally broke through, into a small house that had survived the fall of Midgar. The stench of death was over-powering, and besides that, he knew that it would probably be only a matter of minutes or hours before it caved in under the immense pressure above it as well. And there it was, the awful, sickening lurch that Reno knew would end him. But the roof wasn't caving, the house was sliding down a gradient of garbage and ruined steel. He toppled end over end to the back of the house as it plummeted forward. The window at the front of the house showed an endless rain of refuse as they slid down a garbage chute, and it all made sense, the house had broken into a drainage pipe that would empty into the ocean. Had the collapse of Midgar really pushed him that far underground?
From utter darkness, to a deep blue, the world exploded and Reno found himself floating up from the destroyed remnants of the house. He chocked and sputtered, but he still struggled to the surface, he needed it, he thirsted for it, fresh air. When he met it, he couldn't have enough of it. He swam weakly towards the beach as best as he could, breathing in droughts of air as if he had never breathed it before. Before he made his way to Kalm, and he realized he was thinking a hell of a ways ahead at this point, he had to visit the mass-graveyard, and before that he needed to capture a chocobo, but for right now, there was only the nearly endless blue as he struggled for the beach that was only a yellow line in the distance.

If you want more of Reno and his adventures, let me know.

11:44PM - It's that time again

Fuck it, I owe you people a rant on how shitty our lack of culture in America is, but I'm too fucking sick to write it right now. Wow, even when I write a little apology it sounds angry as fuck. I'm talented.

8:30AM - Awwww...ain't that just so...FUCKING CUTE?!?!?!

What Drink Are You?

So, it turns out every group needs an angsty person, and I'm prepared to take that sacrifice! Well, according to Ashley anyway, and she would know. So anyway, Christ, it's sooo early. Actually, it's eight and thirty-one, but I don't really believe the clocks in here, they all seem to be wrong.
I got Zone of the Enders two (FFO and Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow) last night, and boy-o-boy is the dialogue and voice acting and lip-synching AWFUL. But the fact that it's one of the most enjoyable games in the universe makes those facts easily dismissable. See, I'm not a member of the church of Dante. I think it's a fine game, but the lack of plot, atrocious dialogue and strange characters make me...cringe. I honestly don't think it deserves as much respect and admiration as it gets, along with HALO.
Now, I don't want to get off on a rant here, but who here is sick and tired of these boring games that everyone loves because they're just soooo innovative and perfect looking? Well I am, that's for sure. Halo is just one of those games that I only play because there's nothing else to really do at Darren's house unless we have a movie going. Sure, it's an ok F.P.S, but on the whole, it's boring, derivative and overly pretentious. You can carry two guns, a shit load of grenades and take a lot of damage without going down because you're some kind of super-duper robot from the far-future. Right...So, we got the realism with carrying two guns, but that really limits the gameplay, you can drive trucks and tanks and shit, and that nearly ruins the fun for the other players, the backgrounds are boring and really graphically impressive, SO WHAT. See, for me, what it all comes down to is, "Is the game fun?" That's what I judge all games on when it comes down to it, unless I'm playing for plot, like with the Final Fantasy and Legacy of Kain series'. If a game isn't any fun, I move to the story, if the story isn't very good, I move to the gameplay, but if neither is engaging, where do I go? Somewhere else. I'm tired of these big 'ole games that really 'flex the potential of the medium.' Bull-shit, get over yourselves you pretentious cocks. I miss Mario Bros. 3 where the game screamed innovation when you gave Mario a tail. I miss the days of Gradius and Life Force, I miss all the old glory days of gaming. Maybe I'm just too old school to appreciate a 'gaming masterpiece' like Halo and Devil May Cry and all these other 'wonderful achievements of a new age of videogaming.' I just wanna curl up with a nice cup of hot cocoa and play my NES when games were really fun without too much concern on if they change things up or any of that shit. But that's just my opinion, I could be wrong.

3:50PM - Hey Heather...

I WIN!

WHAT TYPE OF WILD CREATURE ARE YOU? (New Pictures!)
brought to you by Quizilla

So anyway, today is much better than yesterday, hey, I could be lowered into a vat of boiling acid, and it would still be better than yesterday, save for my wonderful friends. Anyway, yesterday was THE WORST. I left early in the morning to go see my friends, figuring if I left early I would be able to beat the heat. I was wrong. Dripping with sweat did I enter the drama room, only to be nearly ignored by Megan, who didn't remember my birthday. Josh walked over to say hi, but he didn't remember my birthday either. I tell you, one of the worst feelings in the world is when someone forgets your birthday, imagine how bad it hurts when every one of your friends forgets all at the same time. No one remembered out of anyone. So I left to go talk to Tricia at like three and thirty, but she was over at Tiffany's, so I returned to RCC. Hottest walk of my life, I was exhausted, and completely dehydrated. Creepiest thing is when you're incredibly hot and your not sweating. Creepier still is when you stop in at a Wendy's to rest and get a drink of water, and you start sweating with every gulp of water I drink. So I continue walking, run into a snake who was sunning himself in the middle of the road, awesome looking snake, by the by. So I get to the school, and who do I run into but Heather. Like the incredibly good friend she is, she sat me down, gave me two or three really big hugs, and held my hand while I just poured my heart out, and she just listened the whole time. I told her somethign at the end that I now realize was incorrect so I hope she reads this and finds that part. But anyway, she left and I went back to my class, realized I needed a test form, and saw Heather walking out to her car and saw a really pretty pink rose in a bush, I plucked it, and somehow RAN out to her. It's the least I can give to her to show my appreciation of her. Take the test, got a C probably, and went home to absolutely nothing. It was just like any other day. Took a shower, called people up and Heather showed up like twenty minutes later with a chocolate cake. I swear to God I have the best friends in the world. We played Smash Bros. ate the cake, and then watched Ferris Bueller, which is like my favorite movie. Darren and Robert showed up and I hit on Robert a lot. Then we come to today which has been pretty mundane, except for the fact that everyone that has the Press Enterprise needs to read the Open Forum for May 22nd. Heh...Sorry I haven't updated in awhile and have just been posting tests. Oh well.

1:23AM - Another one

What Type of Villain are You?

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