Man of a Thousand Faces

So, I'm hoping to actually start writing a story of my own again. Building worlds as well.

If people want to see it, let me know, 'cause I'm going to shove it behind filters.

---
There was something curious in her gaze, some spark of wonder as she watched him work, form curled, tail lashing slightly. "Why are you so interested in this. . ." There was a brief silence, as she attempted to sound out the unfamiliar word. "Maa-they." A short pause. "maa-ticks?"

Looking up, he smiled, one hand moving from the table to stroke along her spine, long fingers slipping along the supple curve. His nails were slightly longer than normal, but, perfect for scratching. Arching upwards, she let out a low purr. Another pause followed.

"Well?"

He chuckled at her impatience, but then, she never had been a patient creature.

"It describes the world. Or it can, depending on how it is used. I find that intriguing."

A long, languid stretch followed his words, her claws digging at the table, turning her head up to him, ears twitching slightly. She watched the symbols flowing from the pen ensconced in his hand. Idly, she stopped herself from batting at the quill. It would have been impolite.

"Are they magic symbols?" She was watching him write, but, unlike the usual script, these seemed more arcane, though much less ornate than the near illuminations used by most for such work.

"Perhaps one day," he says, setting the pen down. "For now, though, they're just reflections on anothers work."

It's strange.

I don't feel pride in succeeding.

I feel pride because I didn't fail.

It's time.

Graduated: University of Nebraska, Bachelors of Science in Management Information Systems, Cum Laude

Employed: Union Pacific Railroad, Associate Software Developer

One elegant eyebrow arched at the other's words. A faint chuckle escaped his lips, and he said, 'Please tell me you are not one of those fools that believe that vampires are simply misunderstood victims of darkness, in truth, gentle hearted and compassionate about everything?' The words accompanied a smirk, as he raised the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip.

'No,' his friend replied, gaze resting on the flowing pirouttes of the dancers upon the floor. 'Not in the slightest. Though, I would wonder, if anyone can truly be classified as easily as we might wish to.'

Slowly, he stepped back from the railing. 'But no, I would not think such. Not in the slightest.'

'Ah. Semantics, my friend. Semantics. Still, I suppose one shouldn't judge, when they eat not merely blood, but the body too, if, albeit, of lesser beasts.'

'Perhaps,' he murmured, one hand resting on the hilt of the blade at his waist, a slight twitch of his fingers deftly preventing its entaglement with the iron ballustrade.

---

Glancing down, he smiled, thin, almost bloodless lips twisting wryly.

'Are you more amazed at how things change, Or how they stay the same?' The idle thought ran through his mind. 'Though, I suppose, hardly appropriate for the setting.' The latter words were murmured out loud.

'WHAT?' The blond-haired young man that had accompanied him nearly shouted, as he turned to his compatriot, words nearly lost over the dooka-dook of speakers, blaring out techno to the entranced crowd below.

He shook his head once, glancing up to the stage. There was a certain irony to Peter, Paul and Mary's words, especially in that brief moment. He pushed back from the thin, steel ledge of the balcony, watching the sharp, jerky movements of dancers out on the floor, the heavy scent of sweat and musk on the air as the denizens of that place gyrated to the hammering beat of the music.

It's interesting, this concept of forgiveness. People have commented that I seem very forgiving, that I come across as someone who is willing to let bygones be bygones. I've come to realize this is not true.

I am not a very forgiving person, as others may have once thought.

What I am is a very accepting person, who is willing to give others the benefit of the doubt. A scientist, collecting data. A certain number of chances seals the coffin, pounds home the nails and locks the door. I seldom judge quickly, but when I make a decision about someone's character or how I feel about them. . . it takes a great deal to change that decision.

I tend to remember every action and catalog it on someone's balance sheet of character. At some point, the judgments come about. Though I may come off as kind, as considerate and concerned, I'm always aware of that mental catalog of judgments.

Something like a computer analyzing risks against some set of rules and conclusions.

I have much in the way of tolerance.

I can come to rationalize a matter and set it aside, but

I have very little in the way of true forgiveness.

Spread thy wings beneath the boundless sky,
teach thyself how to fly,
trap within a spirit bright,
shroud thyself in heavenly flight.

Though grey and grim the clouds do be,
against your wings the shadows flee,
always feathers beating,
each moment fleeting.

The earth seems so very far away,
wings raised aloft from primal clay,
everything else seems to fade,
from this are dreams made.

Wingbeats draw closer, the sound beyond the storm,
another shape then takes form,
from beyond, a second set of wings,
from without, a hunter's call sings.

On the wing, a hunter soars,
across the sky, the storm then roars,
passing wings reach out and touch,
the fliers kiss, embrace, as such.

Then two creatures soar across the night,
lovers wrapped in first-born flight,
wingbeats draw them down,
moving ever down.

Feet upon now dry land,
bodies meet upon the sand,
lips entwine in gentle kiss,
nothing sweeter, ever this.

Well, I've decided to change my degree track.

I'm going from Technical Writing to Management Information Systems (MIS).

With the primary purpose of becoming an Enterprise Resource Planner (ERP) Analyst. I've come to realize I love systems analysis, and the idea of sitting behind my desk for untold hours a day putting together other people's information is obnoxious.

I have a variety of reasons and those are as follows:

1) Realistic Goals. Simply put, at least for now, becoming an independent RPG designer is unrealistic. The development process is something I'm not prone towards. A certain degree of innate arrogance when it comes to creative ideas and inflexibility is part of that state.

2) Enjoyment: Honestly, the ERP market is about constantly changing solutions. It's not just software and IT solutions, its looking at the entire nature of the business and essentially designing an information management system and helping redesign their business model.

3) Money: Honestly, 60k right out of College is very appealing. And that 60k is the Average.

4) Travel: The job involves a great deal of travel, something that is very interesting and appealing to me personally. Especially on someone else's dime. And since the majority of expenses incurred while traveling are paid for by the company.

5) Learning: The job requires constant training and learning about the newest technologies, to better help a business achieve industry standards and have the best possible solution for their particular business model.

6) Interaction: As a person, I may be socially problematic, but, I crave professional level contact. I'll get to meet people, talk to them. So, on the whole and whole, I'll probably be more likely to enjoy my alone time, in a way that's more than: "I don't want to fucking talk to any of you because I'm pissed and passive-aggressive."

I just feel odd right now. It's like I'm kind of high, but I'm not, and it isn't even the endorphin's that come from working out. It's like, everything's slow, disjointed, really, really off. But not in a bad way. Like a messed up jigsaw puzzle.

It's like my thoughts are wrapped in cotton, and I just feel sedate, and ok with the universe. A certain clarity, if you will.

And what is also odd, is, I've had that utter lack of focus all day, and so, I'm just yeah, ok.

From xandraius comes great things! At least, meme's where I can realize my total elite snobbery with the genre of modern music. Go me.

Go to popculturemadness.com and find the Greatest USA Hits of the year you turned 18. Cleverly note that this is totally US-centric and play along only if you're okay with that.

Select the first 50.
Bold the ones you like.
Strike out the ones you hate.
Italicize the ones you are familiar with but neither like nor hate.
Leave the ones you don't know as is.

( Brave souls continue the decent into madness )

Well, this is a more recent life update:

I'm 20.
I'm living in Nebraska, now, going to school at Metropolitan Community College.
I'm doing a lot of reading.
I'm working out.

Aside from that, not much.

Essentially working on getting life back in order.

God, these last 15 months have been a massive, massive mistake.

Porn: The LARP. 'Nuff said.

Well, it seems I have just sold my soul. Yes. I have sold my fucking soul.

I'm now a salaried employee. An overworked salaried employee, but, I'm pulling decent money now, so that's good. I'm also on the fast track towards management.

Hopefully, I'll be opening up a branch in Portland next year. That would be awesome.

Every hour passes,
every minute goes its way,
and tommorow,
oh tommorow,
tommorow is just another today.

What do you do,
when tommorow's just another day,
and today,
today's just another yesterday?

What do you do,
when today's what you've got,
and every minute's,
another minute lost?

For every hour passes,
every minute goes its way,
and tommorow,
oh tommorow,
tommorow is just another today.

The siren song of the past calls,
the song drowning in regret,
oh,
locked in silent despair,
you'll not find the way,
if all your dreams,
are dreams of past things entailed.

But what of the future dreams,
these things of which we sing,
tommorow, always tommorow,
the guiding way,
isn't today,
and so it is they say,
but what of life,
life not lived?

Every hour passes,
every minute goes its way,
and tommorow,
oh tommorow,
tommorow is just another today.

What do you do,
when tommorow's just another day,
and today,
today's just another yesterday?

What do you do,
when today's what you've got,
and every minute's,
another minute lost?

For every hour passes,
every minute goes its way,
and tommorow,
oh tommorow,
tommorow is just another today.

What is life to be lived,
is to be lived for tommorow,
and for the dreams we have?

What is life to be lived,
is to be lived for yesterday,
and only to be lived,
in knowledge of what we are not?

The winter winds are blowing,
can you hear them howling,
as the winds quarter the way?

I'm on the long, dusty road,
as tommorow becomes today,
and with every night,
so then comes the day,
and I'm on my way.

The winter winds are blowing,
can you hear them howling,
as the winds quarter the way?

And though the seas roil,
and though somedays I fail,
tommorow I'll be on my way,
back along this long and dusty road.

Every hour that passes,
along these cold, lonely passes,
brings my wandering feet that much closer,
I'm heading home.

The winter winds are howling,
can you hear the storm winds growling,
as the winds quarter the way?

The gull on the wing,
the songs that the seabirds sing,
are all the music I need.

And though the road is long,
and though things seem often wrong,
each step I take,
is one step closer to home.

The winter winds are blowing,
can you hear them howling,
as the winds quarter the way?

http://kevan.org/johari?name=solrane_altari

This seems... interesting, and, perspectives could be interesting.

Ah, yes.

That is the burning smell of what remains of my optimism.

You guessed it.

Today blew.

In this case, today, my left rear tire blew. Sending me into a skid on a turn. This resulted in an impact at 15 mph, with a curb, torquing the alignment of my front left wheel all to hell.

Note: I am alive and at home.

Getting to work is going to be a bitch.

Furthermore, I am working at a 7.85/hr job, 30 miles from my home.

Explain to me in small, minor words why I haven't just gone, fuck it?

This is Captain Courageous with his message: You're fucked. Just accept it.

Song: Sam Jones
Album: Finity's End
Artist: Leslie Fish

If only life was really that easy.

Song: Merchanter's luck
Album: Finity's End
Artist: *******

Song: Mazianni
Album: Finity's End
Artist: Leslie Fish

I'm in a very odd mood right now.

Well, for anyone who cares, I begin my exodus from the Midwest today.

Leaving in roughly six hours.