I don't know what really to say, except that sometimes I feel let down by our society. Debating on whether it's wrong to let same sex couples marry and have the same rights as everyone else, seems to spark angry fervor among the "normal" citizens of this "country". The compassion seems to have fled our midst. We are no longer able to express that the unfair treatment of a particular set of persons is cause for use to be lumped into a political category. Right wing. Left wing. Dead wing. It does not matter to me. We, as humans, were not set here on this planet, to judge and condemn anyone. We were put here to love and uplift one another.
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed."
Powerful words. Yet, all too often, misunderstood words. We now insert a silent clause after the words "All Men", that reads; "that are not gay, too dark, too "not Christian-like", and any other discrepancies that we haven't yet seen, but are sure to hate."
I offer no solution. Just maybe for us all to exercise patience, love and understanding.
Just in case, the above in italics is from the Constitution of the United States. Same document that until recently, hadn't repealed slavery in all the states.
Sorry for the rant. I've. been keeping it bottled up for too long.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Vacation?
As I'm sitting here on the eve of my vacation, watching "JAWS" with my son, looking forward to week full of relaxing, reading, and (hopefully) lots of creative juice seeping from my pores. Even now as I type this, I am doing the "Go away Bad Mojo" dance.
The goal is to just sit back, and enjoy the true meaning of who I am and what makes me happy. I've widdled those things down to :
My Family and creating things that people enjoy.
Having said that, I hope that my endeavors are meet with enthusiasm and I find my muse and hi-jack her for a week or maybe for the next fifty years.
Well, there's my official shout out to the world.
By the way, "JAWS" just ended and now we're watching "E.T.". Oh Steven Speilberg, you crafter of cinema goodness, you.
The goal is to just sit back, and enjoy the true meaning of who I am and what makes me happy. I've widdled those things down to :
My Family and creating things that people enjoy.
Having said that, I hope that my endeavors are meet with enthusiasm and I find my muse and hi-jack her for a week or maybe for the next fifty years.
Well, there's my official shout out to the world.
By the way, "JAWS" just ended and now we're watching "E.T.". Oh Steven Speilberg, you crafter of cinema goodness, you.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Branded
The searing white heat I felt on the nape of my neck was excruciating. The smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils. It's sweet putrid stench triggered my urge to gag, but the burning sensation overrode all. I kept trying to move away, but many hands forced me in place while I envisioned my skin burning away like paper from a fresh lit match.
I tried to gather some sense, some reasoning for this.
"Mom? Dad!", was what I managed to sputter out before the pain subsided and a coolness blew over my wound. "Why is this' happening?", is what kept repeating in my head. I could barely focus my eyes. My vision was foggy at best due to my clenching them shut for pain's sake.
"It looks like he's gonna pass out.", I heard a sweet dove like voice speak. It was Miranda, my girlfriend. My childhood sweetheart. She was in the room. She was watching these people torture me. Why?
I began to weep.
"If he hasn't passed out yet, this'll do the job. G'night son.", I heard my dad say. I tried my best to lift my head and find his voice but I'm met with hard pressure on the back of my head and a flash of light.
The haze begins to lift and I look around. Things that I see aren't making sense. It's my house from I was seven, and I'm staring at my G.I Joes. My trip though nostalgia lane is broken up by my dad walking in my bedroom door and my mom introducing him for the first time. He had been away to what I thought was army stuff. I get up to hug him and I'm snapped back into the fog.
When I can see again, I'm in church. But not as a parishioner, more like a patron at a movie cinema and I'm viewing sermons and services that fly by me at super speed. It feels like my mind is going to pop with all the holy images and words that are being absorbed in my head.
King Nebakenezur stays in mind. His story of wandering the wild for seven years because of his pride. Daniel chapter four if I'm not mistaken. More fog rolls in.
Now I'm at my parents house at our "after church" finger foods buffet. All the halved pigs in blankets and pop you can handle. Happens every other Sunday and sometimes half the church comes. By that I mean Father Lycus, and the Saskens, my parents neighbors, and Miranda. Some times with but most times without her parents. Perks of a small logging town in upper Washington state, I guess.
But this is tonight I remembering. My dad and Father Lycus are discussing the Book of Daniel again. My mom and Mrs. Saskens are cleaning up the blanketed pigs feast. Miranda's brothers, Cain and Saul are here as well. In town on leave from the reserves. They themselves consumed the lion's share of the food tonight. I can tell by the way Miranda looks at them, exactly how important to her they are. This is something I have to make sure stays the same after her and I wed. Keeping her happy, is like my dad say, job numero uno.
I do love her.
I catch myself staring at her. I can't help it. She has been my best friend my whole life. Coupled with the fact that she is drop dead beautiful, me being a lucky man goes way without saying.
We announced our engagement just last week and still can't believe that she agreed. Again, lucky man.
The lovely moment seems to slowly rip apart when I notice the look in my mom's face. She is clearing off the coffee table, but the look of severe concern and fear on her face is inescapable. I hear my words, "What's wrong Mom?", try to leave my mouth as I'm tackled from behind.
Cain and Saul are dragging me to the coffee table. They force me down and secure my shoulders. Military training at it's finest I suppose. I feel someone climb atop my back and the feel of cold metal on my skin as it slices through my shirt. The room is spinning just like the moment and I can't halt its cycle.
I hear, what I think is prayers from on top of me. This is not happening. Father Lycus is mumbling prayers from on my back, while Miranda's brothers play Gestapo with my arms.
"Mom! Dad! Make 'em stop! What'd I do?", I cry out.
"It's your time son.", my dad replies. He adds, "Don't fight it, just hold still and be the man I know are and can be. Your branding will mark the entry to your next chapter of life."
"Why?", I ask.
From above I hear Father Lycus, "Daniel chapter four son. You know it Anthony, you've always known it. Seven years of trails you'll face. Just as your father faced, and as his father faced. Seven years alone, to return with God's favor! Seven years alone to taste humility's flavor.", he almost seemed to chant.
I noticed Miranda bringing in, what looks like a poker for the fireplace. I can't help notice her tears. She mouths the words "I'm sorry.", as she hands the poker, which I see now is glowing white hot, to Lycus above me.
I feel Lycus' hand grab my hair and pull my head up to where I can see my fiancée in full view. Before I can say anything, searing white heat is blazing into my skin at the nape of my neck. I clench my eyes shut soo hard, I feel that they might break.
Fog.
I'm awake now. I can smell fresh made onion rings from Harry's Burgers but the odd thing is that I'm in the woods and no where near Harry's. I also notice that I don't feel like me. I feel, I don't know, in tune ... is the closest I can describe it. The bird's thoughts are in my head, as the same with the trees and their roots. It's like a cacophony of nature's will inside my body.
I try to call out, and notice the sounds coming out of my mouth are not words and not my voice. Instead something deeper in tone unleashes in the air.
Fear sinks it's claws into my spine and for the first time since I was a child, I desperately want my mom. Her snicker doodles and a hug would feel soo great right now. What's happened to me?
I look around to gather my bearings and see a carving in a tree. It's mine and Miranda's from our fourth grade trip. I'm in Hodge's Clearing. I'm near home, a few miles out. Then it hit's me, Miranda!
I make way towards town. The fear in my heart is swelling and tears are falling like warm rain. I've run the whole way in, but I'm not exhausted or tired. I can see Harry's Burgers just up ahead out of the brush. The smell of boiling grease is nauseating.
There she is, standing outside of Harry's. She is looking in my direction. My god she's beautiful. I start towards her, but she whispers., "Stay hidden. Don't come to me. I know you can hear me.". Even when she whispers, she sounds like a dove. She points to her ring finger and says, "Seven years Anthony. I'll will be here when you come back. I love you baby. Go. Be safe and come back to me.", she coos before turning away and walking back into town.
"What the hell is that!?", I hear from my right. A telephone repair up on the pole is staring at me and yelling, "I told you, sweet Jesus, I told you all there was Big Feets up here!".
I run as fast as I can towards the woods and I don't look back. Miranda's last words stay lingering in my head as I run. "Seven years ... ".
Epilogue:
Three weeks later ...
Miranda grabbed her brushed aluminum travel mug from the counter and scraped her change from the counter into her purse. "Thanks Ronnie.", she called to the young enamored convenience store attendant.
She bundled up and braved the cold outside. The inside of her Jeep feels like a comfy blanket compared to Northwestern December morning. She pulls out onto the road and adjust the stereo.
"... WKBF in the morning, WE'RE GRIZZLY! Hey morning commuters, weather and traffic on the fives. You listeners keep going nuts with the Sasquatch sightings. We all know he's out there, but please quit tying up the GRIZZ lines with Big Foot peek a boos! In other traffic news, a log hauler jack knifed on the ..."
Miranda smiles to herself, and rubs her engagement ring.
I tried to gather some sense, some reasoning for this.
"Mom? Dad!", was what I managed to sputter out before the pain subsided and a coolness blew over my wound. "Why is this' happening?", is what kept repeating in my head. I could barely focus my eyes. My vision was foggy at best due to my clenching them shut for pain's sake.
"It looks like he's gonna pass out.", I heard a sweet dove like voice speak. It was Miranda, my girlfriend. My childhood sweetheart. She was in the room. She was watching these people torture me. Why?
I began to weep.
"If he hasn't passed out yet, this'll do the job. G'night son.", I heard my dad say. I tried my best to lift my head and find his voice but I'm met with hard pressure on the back of my head and a flash of light.
The haze begins to lift and I look around. Things that I see aren't making sense. It's my house from I was seven, and I'm staring at my G.I Joes. My trip though nostalgia lane is broken up by my dad walking in my bedroom door and my mom introducing him for the first time. He had been away to what I thought was army stuff. I get up to hug him and I'm snapped back into the fog.
When I can see again, I'm in church. But not as a parishioner, more like a patron at a movie cinema and I'm viewing sermons and services that fly by me at super speed. It feels like my mind is going to pop with all the holy images and words that are being absorbed in my head.
King Nebakenezur stays in mind. His story of wandering the wild for seven years because of his pride. Daniel chapter four if I'm not mistaken. More fog rolls in.
Now I'm at my parents house at our "after church" finger foods buffet. All the halved pigs in blankets and pop you can handle. Happens every other Sunday and sometimes half the church comes. By that I mean Father Lycus, and the Saskens, my parents neighbors, and Miranda. Some times with but most times without her parents. Perks of a small logging town in upper Washington state, I guess.
But this is tonight I remembering. My dad and Father Lycus are discussing the Book of Daniel again. My mom and Mrs. Saskens are cleaning up the blanketed pigs feast. Miranda's brothers, Cain and Saul are here as well. In town on leave from the reserves. They themselves consumed the lion's share of the food tonight. I can tell by the way Miranda looks at them, exactly how important to her they are. This is something I have to make sure stays the same after her and I wed. Keeping her happy, is like my dad say, job numero uno.
I do love her.
I catch myself staring at her. I can't help it. She has been my best friend my whole life. Coupled with the fact that she is drop dead beautiful, me being a lucky man goes way without saying.
We announced our engagement just last week and still can't believe that she agreed. Again, lucky man.
The lovely moment seems to slowly rip apart when I notice the look in my mom's face. She is clearing off the coffee table, but the look of severe concern and fear on her face is inescapable. I hear my words, "What's wrong Mom?", try to leave my mouth as I'm tackled from behind.
Cain and Saul are dragging me to the coffee table. They force me down and secure my shoulders. Military training at it's finest I suppose. I feel someone climb atop my back and the feel of cold metal on my skin as it slices through my shirt. The room is spinning just like the moment and I can't halt its cycle.
I hear, what I think is prayers from on top of me. This is not happening. Father Lycus is mumbling prayers from on my back, while Miranda's brothers play Gestapo with my arms.
"Mom! Dad! Make 'em stop! What'd I do?", I cry out.
"It's your time son.", my dad replies. He adds, "Don't fight it, just hold still and be the man I know are and can be. Your branding will mark the entry to your next chapter of life."
"Why?", I ask.
From above I hear Father Lycus, "Daniel chapter four son. You know it Anthony, you've always known it. Seven years of trails you'll face. Just as your father faced, and as his father faced. Seven years alone, to return with God's favor! Seven years alone to taste humility's flavor.", he almost seemed to chant.
I noticed Miranda bringing in, what looks like a poker for the fireplace. I can't help notice her tears. She mouths the words "I'm sorry.", as she hands the poker, which I see now is glowing white hot, to Lycus above me.
I feel Lycus' hand grab my hair and pull my head up to where I can see my fiancée in full view. Before I can say anything, searing white heat is blazing into my skin at the nape of my neck. I clench my eyes shut soo hard, I feel that they might break.
Fog.
I'm awake now. I can smell fresh made onion rings from Harry's Burgers but the odd thing is that I'm in the woods and no where near Harry's. I also notice that I don't feel like me. I feel, I don't know, in tune ... is the closest I can describe it. The bird's thoughts are in my head, as the same with the trees and their roots. It's like a cacophony of nature's will inside my body.
I try to call out, and notice the sounds coming out of my mouth are not words and not my voice. Instead something deeper in tone unleashes in the air.
Fear sinks it's claws into my spine and for the first time since I was a child, I desperately want my mom. Her snicker doodles and a hug would feel soo great right now. What's happened to me?
I look around to gather my bearings and see a carving in a tree. It's mine and Miranda's from our fourth grade trip. I'm in Hodge's Clearing. I'm near home, a few miles out. Then it hit's me, Miranda!
I make way towards town. The fear in my heart is swelling and tears are falling like warm rain. I've run the whole way in, but I'm not exhausted or tired. I can see Harry's Burgers just up ahead out of the brush. The smell of boiling grease is nauseating.
There she is, standing outside of Harry's. She is looking in my direction. My god she's beautiful. I start towards her, but she whispers., "Stay hidden. Don't come to me. I know you can hear me.". Even when she whispers, she sounds like a dove. She points to her ring finger and says, "Seven years Anthony. I'll will be here when you come back. I love you baby. Go. Be safe and come back to me.", she coos before turning away and walking back into town.
"What the hell is that!?", I hear from my right. A telephone repair up on the pole is staring at me and yelling, "I told you, sweet Jesus, I told you all there was Big Feets up here!".
I run as fast as I can towards the woods and I don't look back. Miranda's last words stay lingering in my head as I run. "Seven years ... ".
Epilogue:
Three weeks later ...
Miranda grabbed her brushed aluminum travel mug from the counter and scraped her change from the counter into her purse. "Thanks Ronnie.", she called to the young enamored convenience store attendant.
She bundled up and braved the cold outside. The inside of her Jeep feels like a comfy blanket compared to Northwestern December morning. She pulls out onto the road and adjust the stereo.
"... WKBF in the morning, WE'RE GRIZZLY! Hey morning commuters, weather and traffic on the fives. You listeners keep going nuts with the Sasquatch sightings. We all know he's out there, but please quit tying up the GRIZZ lines with Big Foot peek a boos! In other traffic news, a log hauler jack knifed on the ..."
Miranda smiles to herself, and rubs her engagement ring.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Captured 1.2
Water. A relatively simple thing. We all need it to survive. Most things we eat have some in it. Heck, our bodies are made up mostly of the stuff. But out here in space, aboard this modified war cruiser, I find my self craving water the most. Oh, don't get me wrong, the Einherjar's water gen-replicators produce enough of it, but it's just not the same. Got a tin like tinge to it and it makes my skin itch. Anyways, I'll post more soon Dad. My departure for planetside is in a few days and I've got to start researching the data logs on the indigenous life forms there. They assigned me to observe negotiations with the Skefs and I've got to brush up on the "do's and don'ts" of dealing with phermonial reptilian flying things. Hope to be home soon. Miss you.
ISMQ : Session closed
Pather : Jackson, Ertimus
Status : Citizen Active Register
Option : SEND
Postage : 525 e.creds
Sometimes the mailQue is my own little private therapy time. Takes my mind away from this twenty foot by thirty foot cell they call a civi-nook. Can't wait to see the accommodations planetside.
A beeping at my door quickly ends today's session.
"Come on in".
Colonel Ramses dips his way through the door way. For a man in his mid seventies, the Colonel is in Olympian form. At least six and half feet tall and coconuts for shoulders. I would guess his weight near two hundred and thirty with at least five pounds coming from his moustache alone.
"How's Earth finest keeping you son?", he bellows. His voice can't help but boom.
"I could use mayb ..."
"Good, good. Now, Ert my boy ..."
I absolutely loathe being called boy. Almost as much as being interrupted. The sidearm he carries, along with the fact that he could snap me in two, quickly calms the loathing.
" - there's a small side mission, that I would like for you to oversee."
"Sir?"
"One of my top men has gone M.I.A. and I would like for you to cross lines and go looking for him.", his tone was a little bit more tense, if that were possible.
"The Skef contact is one of their local big shots, name of Fennick. You can familiarize yourself with customs and the like on the transport down."
I didn't like where this was heading. "But sir, I'm Citizen Registered. An observer. I'm not qualified for this sort of mission."
"Ert, if you weren't qualified, you wouldn't be on the Einherjar. Now, take a look at this BioGen disk copy. It's the last transmission Archie made before falling off the grid.", he said before exited my civi-nook.
I inserted the mini-disk into my mobile terminal and information began to light up all my screens. I select Datalog and a voice begins:
Datalog open:
I.D. : Lance Corporal, Krundle Archibald A.
Vessel: Einherjar
BioGen Scan: Complete
Day Six, and still no orders on whether or not we engage these prehistoric, bat bug things. The higher ups are under scrutiny to put together a classic meet and great party to present the "human" peace hand shake. It does not bode well with the ole Archibald meter. The Skefs seem well enough, but they're not the only -
The transmission ends with crackling static.
ISMQ : Session closed
Pather : Jackson, Ertimus
Status : Citizen Active Register
Option : SEND
Postage : 525 e.creds
Sometimes the mailQue is my own little private therapy time. Takes my mind away from this twenty foot by thirty foot cell they call a civi-nook. Can't wait to see the accommodations planetside.
A beeping at my door quickly ends today's session.
"Come on in".
Colonel Ramses dips his way through the door way. For a man in his mid seventies, the Colonel is in Olympian form. At least six and half feet tall and coconuts for shoulders. I would guess his weight near two hundred and thirty with at least five pounds coming from his moustache alone.
"How's Earth finest keeping you son?", he bellows. His voice can't help but boom.
"I could use mayb ..."
"Good, good. Now, Ert my boy ..."
I absolutely loathe being called boy. Almost as much as being interrupted. The sidearm he carries, along with the fact that he could snap me in two, quickly calms the loathing.
" - there's a small side mission, that I would like for you to oversee."
"Sir?"
"One of my top men has gone M.I.A. and I would like for you to cross lines and go looking for him.", his tone was a little bit more tense, if that were possible.
"The Skef contact is one of their local big shots, name of Fennick. You can familiarize yourself with customs and the like on the transport down."
I didn't like where this was heading. "But sir, I'm Citizen Registered. An observer. I'm not qualified for this sort of mission."
"Ert, if you weren't qualified, you wouldn't be on the Einherjar. Now, take a look at this BioGen disk copy. It's the last transmission Archie made before falling off the grid.", he said before exited my civi-nook.
I inserted the mini-disk into my mobile terminal and information began to light up all my screens. I select Datalog and a voice begins:
Datalog open:
I.D. : Lance Corporal, Krundle Archibald A.
Vessel: Einherjar
BioGen Scan: Complete
Day Six, and still no orders on whether or not we engage these prehistoric, bat bug things. The higher ups are under scrutiny to put together a classic meet and great party to present the "human" peace hand shake. It does not bode well with the ole Archibald meter. The Skefs seem well enough, but they're not the only -
The transmission ends with crackling static.
Monday, October 26, 2009
iAl 4.2
Please forgive my absence from blogging for a bit. I've been taking a hard look at some things in my little micro-verse. I'm starting to really get a sense of what it means to be me. Apparently it involves leaving all my distractions behind, all the while making leaps in making something creative and stellar happen.
I've left my precious World of Warcraft and the time sync called Mafia Wars behind to try to better reach my goals. My goals of bringing the world a new "make believe" hero. I've also found this to be more work than what it seems. I have embraced the cold mistress called research and now feel the electric pain of actual brainstorming.
The thing is, I am absolutely loving every minute of it. Everything is a new challenge, a new experience and lastly, a new me. It's fun now, thinking up new things to share with you, or how we humans fight off demonic ferrets who belch pubonic plague mist bubbles.
Kudos to all of you!
I've left my precious World of Warcraft and the time sync called Mafia Wars behind to try to better reach my goals. My goals of bringing the world a new "make believe" hero. I've also found this to be more work than what it seems. I have embraced the cold mistress called research and now feel the electric pain of actual brainstorming.
The thing is, I am absolutely loving every minute of it. Everything is a new challenge, a new experience and lastly, a new me. It's fun now, thinking up new things to share with you, or how we humans fight off demonic ferrets who belch pubonic plague mist bubbles.
Kudos to all of you!
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
A Cleansing of sorts ...
I have to tell you, if I don't release some of this steam, I will begin a rampage of shooting people in the face with a bazooka. (Thank you Mister Cosby.)
People that are all around me have breached my defenses and I can't seem to plug the hole. Have manners totally left Earth, or did I miss the global message that it is now okay to be rude in every social setting?
Interrupting someone when they are speaking. Since when did that become en vogue? "Imma let you finish.", was the coup de grace. Thanks Mister Kanye. Now even in the most smallest work settings, I have co workers who just cannot live life to it's fullest extent unless they have interrupted me at least six times a day. Sometimes that number has been reached in a single conversation. Tasty!
How about the person who asks a question and talks over your answer? I love them. I want all of them over for a steak dinner.
I'm sorry, just needed a public venue to vent. Carry on with your normal internet surfing and searching for HTML's of cats firing machine guns and the like.
People that are all around me have breached my defenses and I can't seem to plug the hole. Have manners totally left Earth, or did I miss the global message that it is now okay to be rude in every social setting?
Interrupting someone when they are speaking. Since when did that become en vogue? "Imma let you finish.", was the coup de grace. Thanks Mister Kanye. Now even in the most smallest work settings, I have co workers who just cannot live life to it's fullest extent unless they have interrupted me at least six times a day. Sometimes that number has been reached in a single conversation. Tasty!
How about the person who asks a question and talks over your answer? I love them. I want all of them over for a steak dinner.
I'm sorry, just needed a public venue to vent. Carry on with your normal internet surfing and searching for HTML's of cats firing machine guns and the like.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
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