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Saturday, October 23rd, 2004
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Thursday, October 14th, 2004
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| Time: | 3:09 pm. |
| Mood: |  weird. |
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Randomly, Kestenan asked me for 'Stories of death or glory'. So I decided to throw up some loosely-based-on-stuff-that-really-happened fiction, loosely wrapped around Planetside. It needs detail and expanding on stuff in many many places, but this is basically what I want from an online game, and what I've yet to find.
I want a simulation, in many ways. I want to find myself being a part of these things, and whatnot. So, here's my random babbling.
[Note: Terminology may be wrong. Acronyms may be wrongly expanded. Procedures may be wrongly described. Kindly ignore any inconsistencies, it's only /based/ (loosely) on PS :P]
( Without further ado.. )
*cringe*
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| 1 bruise... - Strike me down... |
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Monday, September 13th, 2004
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Wednesday, February 25th, 2004
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| Time: | 1:09 am. |
| Mood: |  complacent. | | Music: | Muse :: Citizen Erased. |
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She loved to do this. To stand in the lounge overlooking the long ramp, and watch the new recruits file their way into the Underworld. None of them knew, at this early stage, just what they'd signed up for. Details weren't provided while still in the Overground. All they knew was that their family's protection fees were paid up for the next six months, and they had somewhere where they could be useful to the Organisers.
Or so they think. The thought brought a slight curl to her lips, a sign of the secret pleasure she took from watching this, the start of another day's journey into the dark. Not that she'd ever admit it, no - an Associate enjoying her job was grounds for immediate turning of the tables, and the slightest misplaced word could see her trudging down that same long ramp. The only difference would be that she'd know what was waiting for her, and would have to supress the reactions the knowledge would cause. Letting the recruits in on that little secret was a sure path to immediate termination. The Organisers didn't like to waste good meat, but they would if they felt they had to. And yet, maybe that would be the preferable course.
The last of the grey-suited, white-faced recruits disappeared out of view between the huge double doors that closed the end of the ramp, and the Associate finally raised her eyes, fixing them on the emblazoned Organisation star-and-cross that surmounted the entrance to the Underworld. She made a sloppy, mocking salute to it, then turned on her heel and headed for the door, letting her smile grow a little wider as she thought of the day ahead.
After all, there was no-one to see it.
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| 6 bruises... - Strike me down... |
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Wednesday, July 2nd, 2003
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Wednesday, June 25th, 2003
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| Time: | 9:25 pm. |
| Mood: | serene. |
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I wonder what it is about fire that draws us to it?
I mean, I have something of a fascination for fire. I can sit and stare at a candle flame for hours, just...kinda zoning out and letting it fill my whole world. Just about everyone I've ever mentioned this to has told me that they have the same thing, at least to a degree. But what exactly is it about the simple chemical reaction that is combustion that holds such an attraction for us? Maybe it's because it's a light against the darkness. Maybe it's because it's small, and can be controlled by the viewer...one puff, and it's gone. Maybe it's because of the potential for that tiny spark to grow, wild and uncontrolled, and be a great force of destruction.
There's probably a metaphor for life in there somewhere. But the next time you get the chance, on one of long summer evenings when the sun's dropped below the horizon and dusk is settling in, light a candle and just look at it.
And then write down what it inspires in you, because the fire-dreams of the individual are something which translates easily to the many. A way of sharing, and of learning about the self and each other.
It's not the laws which bind us, but the abstractions.
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| 1 bruise... - Strike me down... |
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The easiest way to sleep at night
Is to carry on believing that I don't exist
The easiest way to sell your soul
Is to carry on believing we don't exist
It must be hard, hard, with your head on backwards
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| 5 bruises... - Strike me down... |
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Thursday, February 20th, 2003
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( Abstractions )
I apologise if this makes no sense at all. I just seem to be in the right frame of mind to vent my thoughts lately. Emotional unrest is the father of garrulity.
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| 6 bruises... - Strike me down... |
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Tuesday, February 18th, 2003
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| Time: | 1:49 am. |
| Mood: |  awake. |
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Sometimes, I look up at the stars, and it's like "Wow. There's so much up there, so much power and beauty." A million novae, a billion stars, a hundred billion hopes and dreams. The very flavour of what makes life what it is.
Every single part of it exists with certainty in only one place. In the mind of the observer.
As we grow and develop, we are told "This is a ball. It's round, and that means it's a ball". But a 'ball' is merely an assumption imposed on a particular sequence of sensory input. It's only as real as the observer's belief in that as a ball.
True enough, there are rules which have been imposed on this to make it more easy, such as the aforementioned assumption that something round is automatically a ball. There are divisions within these rules, for instance something ball-shaped and orange, with a pitted texture, can be reasonably assumed to be an 'orange', something completely different. The rules provide a framework, a means of building our own perceptions of the four-dimensional space we inhabit.
But what if they're false? Just as a house built on sand is doomed to fall, a set of referents built upon a faulty set of pre-made rules is unable to subsist. Something as important and inevitable to us as the flow of time has been shown to be purely subjective. Is any of this objectively 'real'? Are those stars actually there?
You think that's air you're breathing?
Emotions also fail to fall into the neat little pigeonholes we are so fond of. Irrespective of logic, morality, or anything else, emotions can lay bare our innermost selves, whether for good or bad. They can also inhibit us, make us too afraid or too uncertain to pursue what we wish for, what we dream about. In short, emotions shape our reality to fit ourselves, consciously or unconsciously, large or small.
The tiniest change can create the greatest alteration. All that's needed is the right fulcrum.
And more often than not, the heart is that pivot on the brink, holding us just short of salvation or the eternal darkness of the abyss.
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| 7 bruises... - Strike me down... |
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Wednesday, November 20th, 2002
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| Time: | 12:41 am. |
| Mood: |  blank. |
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I waited
before unlocking the clasp,
that bound my mind together
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| Strike me down... |
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Wednesday, July 24th, 2002
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| Time: | 5:21 pm. |
| Mood: |  good. | | Music: | Offspring - The Meaning Of Life. |
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Well, it's incomplete, and subject to revision. But the story seems to have become two, or rather one seen from two viewpoints.
Meh. It got slightly eaten...the LJ-cut tag ate the first part of it. It's back now, though...This post has also been updated with the filler some people requested, so...re-read it if yer interested.
( Suggestions, please? )<span style="margin-left:40; width:100¢><i>My dearest Jal...
Even the best of things must come to an end, it seems. Much as I regret it, I must leave you. Believe me, if I could stay I would....
I can't explain where I'm going, because I don't know myself. Three night ago, a group came to me, an emissary from a hidden place, a place of shadows. They want to take me with them, Jal, and I can't deny them. You've felt their power for yourself. All I could do was take enough time to make sure you were going to be alright. As I write this, you're still sleeping, recovering from what happened.
I'm sorry that I can't be there in person to tell you this, but you were still in no state to accept something like this on power of faith alone, and at least this way you have a tangible memory that you can look at later, more objectively.
These last three years together have been a joy for me, a wonderful time spent with the one I love. All that we had, all that we built together will remain, along with this promise,
No matter what the distance between us, to the ends of the earth, and for all eternity, I will always love you. And one day, if I can, I'll come back to you.
Good luck and safe journeys to you, dearheart.
Your loving mate,
~ Sula ~ </i></span>
A tear splashed onto the page, smearing the ink of the last word, and I realised I was weeping. All I felt, though, was a terrible numbness, an emptiness in my heart as I absorbed the knowledge that my beloved had gone. I sat for a long moment, staring at the words, unwilling to believe them, the only sound the wind rustling the leaves of the trees outside the window.
"All that we built together..." The words sounded ludicrous to me now. What was any of this without the one who inspired it? I hid my face in my paws, the paper fluttering to the ground, tears flowing freely.
At some point in the next few hours, I crawled onto the bed and curled up, hugging her pillow to me like some kind of talisman to sanity in the face of the grief that threatened to consume me. And I slept once more, dreaming of all I'd lost.
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| 4 bruises... - Strike me down... |
| Time: | 5:02 pm. |
| Music: | Lostprophets - Five Is a Four Letter Word. |
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.:: Once... ::.
~~* ~§~ *~~
You once asked me,
How best to go about it,
How to say it just right,
And I answered.
~*~
You once asked me,
To make you happy,
To show you love,
And I answered.
~*~
You once asked me,
To leave it all behind,
To fly, unbridled, with you,
And I answered.
~*~
You once told me,
The end was near,
The joy was over,
And there were no more answers.
~*~
You once left me,
Cold, naked, afraid,
Alone in the dark,
Searching for the answers.
~*~
I once missed you,
But now no longer,
Resigned to a world,
Without your presence.
~*~
Once more, I answer,
I loved you, yet still,
My world continues,
Regardless, endless.
~*~
And what was once,
May be no longer,
But the joyous memories,
Live on in me.
Dedicated to Ordos Ren.
©2002 Jacel Starwanderer
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| Strike me down... |
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Monday, February 25th, 2002
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| Time: | 5:15 pm. |
| Mood: |  loved. | | Music: | POD - Alive. |
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A light in the darkness,
A diamond in the rough,
Could I ever deserve you?
Could I ever do enough?
An endless sense of wonder,
A brightly shining star,
For always, 'til the end of time,
To me that's what you are.
(c) 2002 Shades of Life
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| 2 bruises... - Strike me down... |
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Sunday, February 24th, 2002
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Open your eyes.
Face the light of a new day.
Fight the premonitions of boredom, pain, worry...
This time you'll do things your way.
Break the routine.
No breakfast, skip the morning coffee.
Simply get in the car and drive...
Just for today, you're free.
Leave town.
Head for the green wilderness.
Walk among nature's wonders...
Leave behind the world's stress.
Rest a while.
Relax, take off your coat and shoes.
The whole world is yours, there for the taking...
All you have to do is choose.
But no.
The night draws in, shadows grow deep.
As you return to the safety of the city...
And the divine release of sleep.
And what now?
Cold, dark, alone in your bed.
"Maybe tomorrow I'll stay out there..."
The dream running through your head.
(c) 2002 Shades of Life
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| 1 bruise... - Strike me down... |
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Saturday, February 2nd, 2002
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He sleeps.
Lost in a world of fantasy, he tumbles, exultant,
The wind beneath his wings a living thing,
Buoying him ever upwards on wild flights of joy
The world tilts, slides away in an effortless curve,
The glorious fire of the sun drawing him on,
To far shores, distant horizons, forgotten dreams...
But now the sunset fades, the world grows faint,
As sleep gives way to consciousness,
And joy returns to despair.
He wakes.
And stretches, trapped within a body not his own,
Mourning the loss of scales, wings, tail...
And longing for the dreams to return.
(c) 2002 Shades of Life
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| 3 bruises... - Strike me down... |
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Friday, February 1st, 2002
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Well, this seems to be the tradition for the first post. I'm testing that everything's set up OK.
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| Strike me down... |
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shadesoflife's journal
creative.
contemplative.
recumbent.