Unia? Dreams darkness

I have had the CD UNIA by Sonata Artica for a while now, and it still gives me the same feeling that I got when I first listened to it.

 

Unia reminds me of being in an autumn field. A dark clouded noon with a chilly breeze. In this field, I am standing in a room of a house long abandoned. The walls are covered with dark maroon wallpaper, worn all over and beginning to tear. No direct light enters the room, only the visibility allowed by the grace of the air. There is a rocking chair by the wall made out of white painted oak and a baby's cradle in the corner. Cobwebs connect both to the wall. Dust covers the room like a light snow. There is a painting on the wall, a black and white photo with a rustic ornate frame. There is a blond haired woman with gentle features and a hooknose. Her face is slender and young, yet her dress is a relic. Expounding designs typical to an 18th century ball gown... but the meaning of her dress has faded long ago. She is holding her daughter and gazing out of the picture with an emotionless gaze.

 

I am standing in the middle of this room. My eye focused on a random section of the wall below the picture. It is a place that I have left long ago, and yet never forgotten. I feel bittersweet nostalgia. Yet though this place belongs to me and is my memory, I don't fit here... In fact, I never have. I am alone in this room and there is never going to be a way to get out. I am an owl in an sewer. My thoughts cannot escape this place, as I am trapped within this room. Though I am trapped, I am not afraid. I am accepting. I am filthy. Yet I am real.

 

Anyway… This uncomfortable feeling always revisits me when listening to this CD, thus I think its good.

Did you know...

When I get really nervous, I get an uncontrollable hiccup fit? I certainly wasn't aware, but last night and this morning I couldn't stop hiccuping because of my stress about getting a paper turned in on time. It actually got to the point were I became nauseous from all the diaphragm contractions.

This may be the pussiest response to stress that anyone has ever had.

why am I sad?

I recently did not succeed at something. I was not initially upset, I saw it coming, yet for some reason it started to bother me later. I believe that the reason for this was from the response I got from people when I informed them of my failure. Not that my friends treated me poorly, because they actually treated me quite well. Something one certainly hopes for in friends. They treated me rather warmly, as they accept my failure and they addressed we in a way that said "I still want me to be your friend."

I'm not sure how this makes me feel. These people act with the best of intentions, yet through their treatment of me, I see myself through their eyes. What makes it a problem is that their image of me does not fit with my own. I can internally justify my problems and build up my self esteem through my dirty little personality tricks I'm not going to teach you. However, when looking through their eyes I see myself as less of an island and more of an impressionable, and somewhat pitiful case.

The worst part is, I constructed the me that's in my head. So, is that self an ideal and elaborate illusion that I have fooled myself into believing? Or is the pity I receive merely misplaced by well intentioned people? I am rather certain that the answer is a mixture of the both.

Bamabii's response:

Stop trying to pretend you are introspective. Your just sad you failed and are trying to justify it with the little bit you remember from Psychology class.

My Response:

yeah. I guess the most important takeaway from this is that I have problems with my Self esteem and need consistent reasurment of how good I am.

Bamabii's response:

You slept through the majority of Psychology class.

My Response:

Fine, I'm just a sad panda :(

I'm So hungry

I think it would be a lot easier to be a vegetarian if meat wasn't so good and full of needed proteins.

Flower Garden

There is a flower that dwells in a garden,

from the world it begs its pardon.

Expelling light and luxurious savor,

tempting all with enduring favor. 

Shining its love to all that lives.

There is a nail inside this garden,

through these years has begun to harden.

at one time it had beamed in the sun,

Yet all that hope has become undone.

indifference now is all it gives.

This flower has now met this nail,

attempting to make its happiness fail.

The garden is filled with confusion,

Dealing with this unholy fusion.

As when age and trouble meets our mind,

our sincere love becomes hard to find.

Your Wrong, Dumb and a Pussy!

These are the responses I get when I say that Muslims aren't predestined to be violent. Serves me right.

I need a blog name

So here we are, a brand new blog without a name. What to do?

Lets see if we can improv something up. I'll start with something about me that I want to incorporate and maybe some sort of colorful imagery. Why don't I ask myself a couple of questions to get me started. Lets see...

What do you like most?

politics, making people laugh, biting gossip, and a car that works. My kitty, Baby.

What do you like in other people? We'll go ahead and say in women.

I like women that are smart and funny. I find that intelligence and humor are often correlated, people who are unintelligent usually aren't funny. However, just because someones smart doesn't mean they can make me laugh. So finding a woman with both is hard but defiantly worth the search. I also like boobs.

What makes you fucked up?

I have trouble expressing Passion for other people. I turn everything into a joke and laugh at it so I will be accepted. My parents divorce has caused a large amount of damage emotionally that I have not found a proper way to deal with. I constantly look for father figures. When I discover that I begin to idolize another male in place of my father, I take a look into the abyss that is the hole within myself. This is defiantly when I feel the weakest as a person. I also cannot lift heavy things.

Whats you least favorite thing?

Larry the Cable Guy

Hmm... So I guess we can go to something that involves a cat, gossip, politics, laughter, fathers, loss, judgment, stupid rednecks.

Atticus Finch: THE CAT-BOOBs!

That feels like it hits most everything. If I come up with something later it will change. Until then, respect the cat boobs

Vanity

I am... Why am I. I never made a Facebook, I never made a myspace, yet I assume that everyone will want to know about me and read what I right as I sit at home in boxers. Am I so conceited that I think people will enjoy reading the thoughts I have between the time I take looking for naked pictures of Beyonce and the time I take when I try to figure out the correct way to spell pragmatist?

Yes... and I typed pragmatist into google and spelled it right, this guys a winner.

I have no idea what I will wright, nor how long I will do it. Most likely nobody will read this. If you do, I hope maybe I have something that I can teach you... Like how to spell pragmatist.