Rage at your Stupidity

“Sometimes not even God can sway the fates mortals create for themselves… You should not believe it to be in your control either.”

That does NOT fly with me. To believe in God and say that – what kind of faith do you have? God is Almighty and within all things by definition. Therefore, all is possible to the Power of God – the Power in all things and all people. Which brings me back to the point.

That line has to be the most blasphemous excuse I’ve heard to not intervene on someone’s behalf – especially when having the power to do so. Not to say there aren’t reasons to not interfere – there always are. However, do not say not even God can help. God will have to tell me that Himself.

And to tell me that last part as if to chastise me? To imply that I’m trying to play God? That is not helping you either. If anything, it’s making things worse. To tell me that my stepping in is subverting the Will of God is completely ridiculous. God, also by definition, is Love. Love does not drive suffering, or hatred, or violence. In fact, it is my experience that Love is the cure – and I am backing this up as witness, not babbling out some overly sweet line. So don’t tell me God can’t – because He can – and don’t add on that I shouldn’t think I can in His place. Under my own power, I do what I will – including intervening where appropriate or necessary.

And besides insinuating that God would just “let it” happen, you’re a lazy-ass sod of a prick for not doing something otherwise. Messed up people with their need to blame God for their own shortcoming. Hmph.

First Kisses vs Snog Fests

It’s kind of saddening that I haven’t had a first kiss, considering I’m going on 19 AND have lip-locked with several people.  Oh I’ve kissed before, for various lengths of time and in various styles – but a “first kiss”?  Not once.  Not even my first lip-lock was ‘WAZZAH! I kissed somebody! And it was bloody fantastic!’ – though I did get in my head that yea, kissing was an interesting thing to do.

Okay, so I was excited about it at first, and I’m a guy who doesn’t mind a good lip-lockin’ good time at all.  But I did come to meet people who had not-so nice kisses.  Got really wet ones, had one where I received some bad breath, and some that are just one way or other bad.  So, kissing came to stay in just the “interesting” category as an activity.

There were good ones, of course.  But like I said, there weren’t any amazing ones that took my breath away or made sparks fly or anything, not even the first one I had (which was, traditionally, with my girlfriend of the time).  Not to say her kisses were bad, because they were heated and quite satisfying.  However, there was never ‘the spark’ that many people talk about.  Maybe it doesn’t exist, but something about that first kiss is supposed to be special, isn’t it?  Something that makes you remember it.

Or perhaps I should say it this way, I’ve never had my first real kiss.  I’ve just made out with a lot of people.  Snogging can be fun.  I’ve just never had that kiss where it was soft and sweet, with maybe something tentative behind it.  Or maybe that’s just a romantic thing that’s been hyped up and illustrated with rose-tinted glasses.  Heh, and what does that say of all the people I’ve ever kissed?

Well, and for one thing – besides my first girlfriend – most of them came with a price.

Righteous Fury? Don’t Flatter yourself

A person that holds himself to principles of love, forgiveness, and tolerance cannot claim to hold the flame of righteousness in the face of war whilst celebrating the death of every soldier sent home. Who celebrates the death of a patriot? A man cannot vehemently oppose a different (but not challenging) ideal and claim righteous fury. What exactly is immorally infuriating about something merely being different? That’s like the color pink being angry at the color blue because it’s blue and has different fundamentals. Pink is a tint, blue is a primary – so what? Still colors, and perfectly fine on their own. (And blue, I can tell, is perfectly self-assured)

Discrimination is most definitely not righteous fury. Righteous fury is when you tell your daughter not to whore herself off, and then she does it anyway. Or, not even that extreme: you see your son of legal age smoking a cigarette in the backyard. Or maybe it’s your dog who is STILL crapping around the house.

You’re angry on behalf of what’s proper, but really, that just stems from being upset over this disregard for rules you’ve set, or the other person’s own well being. Take it beyond being angry over the instance and you’re just being petty. I suppose you could get righteously angry over a man who made a deal with a demon. He sold his soul for whatever thing he held in such high regard his soul was a worthy price. And you can be angry over the fact he made the deal, but to hate the man – that is not righteousness. What do you know of what he paid for? Does it not matter? Was his sacrifice completely meaningless?

Perhaps it is to you, but you don’t know what he paid for. Do you hate the man who sold his house away so he could pay for his son’s chemo-therapy? Or do you hate the man who sold his house so he could get more heroin? Or perhaps you hate both for selling away a set home without replacement; you are a fool.

They say that hate stems from rage, but what have you to rage for? Being opposed? That’s petty. Not fitting in with your paradigm? That’s just pig headed.  Your rage is blind, and so is your hate.

you earn my pity – little more, and probably less.  I await Armageddon, then we’ll all see.  Besides, I’ve seen real righteous anger – it stems from disappointment.

Old is more than Age

Do you know what it means to be old? To hit a point where you look at the people around you and realize that you’ve passed them by in life. As young men and women, it happens fairly often as one becomes more mature. But not in the way of a collegiate suddenly finding themselves at a disconnect with high school brats.

When I say I feel old, I mean to say that my life experience puts me beyond my own age bracket. It’s the way of looking at my little brother – so sweet, so innocent and caring and kind and all of ten years my junior – and thinking on how at his age I was already being thrown headfirst into the adult world, and how little of what he is I had left already. It’s how I look at people my age and realize I like their company because their silliness or exuberance for life is something I miss – something of younger people, and for those lucky, the august and lived. I’m still stuck in the middle where life shoves itself at me.

I feel old. I’ve felt old for five years, and am selfishly happy for any who became able of really understanding me.  Five years I’ve been aware of how I don’t fit in. Five years I’ve watched and listened and came to be the hidden gossip monger, the consultant, secretary – the secret keeper. Five years and each one I got further and further away – because as everyone else grew, I did too. I simply got older.

I feel old because I’ve felt the weight of the real world. I’m old because life took me by the wrist and dragged me along through shadows and back alleys, then left me on the other side back in the light as if nothing had happened. But who sees the monsters in the dark and forgets their faces? They all have faces to me – all the shadows, and all the monsters in the dark.

But do you know what really makes me old? I don’t see the faces just in the dark. They walk around in plain sight, for everyone to see – and who’s really seen the faces in the dark to know some of them hide in the light too?

So yes, I will have my put upon sigh. I will look at you give you a look because I think you’re abusing the folly of youth. I will rage and yell and destroy what connection we had – we were never equals anyway. I will treat you like the child you are.

I’ve lived much already, and I shall live more still. But I also have a appreciation for the finer things in life, and as young as my age is, I consider it a precious perspective.

Occupation… renewed?

I’ve been a fanfic… fan, for several years now – some things that I’ve read and saved predating my introduction to the fanfiction world.  They were just that good (at least to me.)  Yes, I have written some. I’ve only ever posted one, and it was incomplete (still is, actually).

Author and reader! Especially reader – I think my record is finishing one almost 300k words long in less than three days (two and a half).  That was having just finished one the day before starting, and with two more for the weekend (this was a tuesday-thursday reading marathon).  It was a very satisfying week, since they all turned out well written, and sufficiently if not especially engaging.

But, it has come to my attention, as an undergrad art major, that I have nothing but time. Time which can be spent sleeping or… doing something.  Now, all that time is perfect for getting art done – but once it’s done, the rest of that daily chunk of free time has to be dealth with somehow.  True, I could sleep more – and I do love sleep, but I’m not enough of a narcoleptic to make that my past time.  So, fanfiction has come back to bite me in my derriere.

I have the above mentioned fic to hash out and actually finish, but besides that, boredeom breeds… odd things. Odd things which will become other pieces of amateur literature, posted in the public domain, free for all to read and critique. Sounds like I’m sending the experiments of a mad scientist out into the world as another, bigger experiment.

That would be a more accurate statement if I was that bizarre when it came to writing. But I like my literature to be of a decent standard at least – actually involving plots and some real wit beyond reasonable characterization.  Well, guess I can put all my people-watching to the test and see what I’ve learned taking the real-life psychology/sociology crash course.

Wish me luck!

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