Great News!!

I've passed my exams!!! I'm heading into 3rd year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Update

I've created another blog for my experimentations in poetry, creative writing and whatnots that have nothing to do with ranting. I'm keeping this one rant full and that one rant free.

As I'm too tired and too bored to rant for too long I'll just say this. I miss old friends, it was very very very nice and refreshing to meet up with Soph on Saturday. Having one of the few people in the world that you can freely and I mean freely talk to without watching what you have to say or facing some sort of judgement is quite liberating. These are the only handful of people in the world that I suppose you could call my best friends and now I have one of them in my city, hopefully more will follow (hint. you know who you are. yes I am referring to you 3 back home and I know for a fact that one of you don't read my blog that often, shame on you.)

You guys make me less miserable. Thanks for that.

Ok, THIS is going to be a special post and I was going to say it's because it won't have me ranting as usual...

Sorry about that, my cat decided to sit on my keyboard and blog for me.

Anyways, this is a special post, in honour of my muse ;)

Tempus Fugit

I am helpless, do not abuse me,

I can’t say, the things I need to say,

I need life, to nourish my being,

I need love as all Man do.

I am passionate; hold it not against me,

I rebel; it is within my nature,

I will fall, please, raise me up,

I need love as all Man do.

I am nothing, no one understands me,

I am no one, the world abandons me,

I am lost, I see no future,

I need love as all Man do.

I am someone, my life defines me,

I am found, my future is now,

I am something, I am human,

I give love for love is within me.

I am weak, but I am not decrepit,

I have lived, my circle is complete,

I am helpless again, do not abuse me,

I need love as all Man do.

I have returned, to where I began,

I lie here still, the world moves ever forward,

I feel cold, those around me shed,

I need no love now, just to be remembered, as all Man do.

Written on the 15th of July 2007 in the library of my university next to my lovely muse.

This is a special post (which means I'm not going t

Because readers want an update.....

Yes I am still alive. Exams are coming so that should explain my disappearance. Anyways, here's a lil poem I wrote in the middle of the Geriatric Pharmacology lecture.... I should've been listening but I wasn't so there.

Void

The night is endless,
It is all I know,
Once I was full of goodness,
Now, I am void of soul.

The mark of Cain,
The curse of life eternal,
Death shall be brought by a tan,
Blood is the life of an immortal.

Nocturnal creature I have become,
What evil have I in life performed?
To deserve a fate such as this one,
No longer a man, no, I have been transformed.

To feed on the life of Man,
To survive is to hide in darkness,
"Demon" they call me, for accepting the Embrace of the Ancient Woman,
Lilith, my sire, the bearer of the gift that is my lifelessness.

Evil, my mission and my faith,
Eight centuries my life of unliving,
What is my sin to deserve such a fate?
Perhaps my joy in the art of killing?

Despair after centuries soon gave way to joy,
My inner demon, my soul had braced,
I see life, my prey, as nothing more than toys,
My unlife, my fate I now embrace.

A Story....

The year is 2377; unfortunately the place is still this heap of a dustball called Terra: that would be planet Earth in the ancient tongue. 369 years have passed since the Golden Age of Humanity, the Golden Age that my father brought to this God-forsaken world. A world filled with technology so advanced, nothing was impossible but all that is lost now. Nothing remains, the last remnants of humanity struggling to survive in small pockets where the earth still fight valiantly for survival. Most of the planet is just barren wasteland now, a legacy of my father’s, a legacy I forced upon this planet.

No, I’m not dead; actually I’ve been walking this earth for 361 years. I’m just old, very, very old. Well, chronologically speaking of course, biologically I still look as if I’m in my mid 20s. I’m an Immortal you see, not really sure how it works just that there are a few of us out there and we are gifted, cursed, however you want to see it, to walk this earth for eternity. Disease will not kill us, trauma will not harm us, death will not touch us, but loneliness and despair are our eternal companions. My name is Lucius and this, this is my story. It is a tragedy, sometimes a comedy but mostly, a tale of revenge and survival.

So where shall I begin? Maybe it is best I start from the beginning; my father and the peace he brought, the calm before the terrible storm. I never got to know his name; nobody remembers his real name, not for centuries. The only person who knew my father’s true name was my mother but she died when I was 2. Though my father was human, he was by no means normal. They called him the Light-Bringer, Prometheus, the One who saved humanity, of course that was before they dragged him out into the streets and shot him in the head. That happened when I was 4, the day after I learnt how to call him daddy. After that they called him the False One, Doom-Bringer, the One who damned humanity. How fickle the masses can be eh?

My father, let’s call him Prometheus, was by all accounts, a normal human being, unlike myself. He was a healer or at least he was training to be one before destiny forced him onto a different path. The year his training was to end, something happened. No one is sure what exactly, just that something came from deep space and they brought destruction with them. The world was thrown into turmoil; 5 billion of the world’s 6.5 billion people were eradicated in one day. Out of the ashes Prometheus organised what was left of humanity and brought it into the light. There was a war against what the ancients called the Invaders, and Prometheus fought long and hard to win back his world. Eventually after 4 years of intense fighting and assimilation of the Invader’s technology, Prometheus engineered a genetic virus which managed to wipe out the Invaders.

The year was 2014, the Earth was in ruins but the Invaders were dead and the remnants of humanity were rebuilding their civilisations. Prometheus managed to reverse-engineer most of the Invader’s technology to bring a Golden Age to humanity. There was no illness, no war, no strife, only peace. It was, Utopia but as everybody knows, Utopia never lasts. Prometheus became the most influential person on Earth as he was the only one who knew how to operate the Invader’s tech and so the people decided he should rule what was left of humanity. Prometheus, my father, was reluctant at first but ultimately decided to devote his life towards rebuilding humanity. Soon after he met my mother, and they fell in love. Together they formed a government capable of ruling without much input from Prometheus so they can devote their time to restoring the lost culture of the ancients and to themselves. 4 years later I was born and they named me Lucius, which means light.

In the year 2020 everything began to go wrong; my mother began to suffer from a strange illness which my father had never seen before. Eventually he would discover that the virus that infected my mother was a mutated form of the genetic virus he had designed to battle the Invaders. He would lose her a week after she contracted the virus. She died, horribly. He would spend the last remaining 2 years of his life working on an antiviral just in case the virus spread. Unfortunately it did and the people grew dissatisfied, they started blaming him for the deaths that the virus caused. The single most ironic thing is, with the exception of my mother, the virus had only killed 5 people in 2 years. The fear of the genetically engineered virus which mutated to attack humans drove the people into a mass panic. They stormed parliament, killing all members of the government my parents had set up before they shifted their attention towards our home. Prometheus, my father, once saviour of the people, tried to explain to his people what went wrong and what he was trying to do with the antiviral but the people would not hear it. They fear the manipulation of the Invaders tech and human genetics would bring further destruction upon them, it would be only later that I would find out that this fear was driven and manipulated by the so-called New Church of Humanity.

So the people stormed Prometheus’ lab, dragged him out of his home, brought him to the very street he proposed to my mother and shot him in the head. They crucified his body and burnt all his research. From what little I could remember, the servants tried their best to shield me but they were massacred and I was dragged to the bridge named after my mother and clubbed to death before I was thrown into the river. Of course no one knew I couldn’t die then, so I lived, regenerated. I was found floating down the river by a couple who raised me and taught me all they knew about their world. Being an Immortal I had an ability to retain the genetic memory of those that died around me, those memories surfaced after my 11^th birthday and I was angry. I grew, I trained, I honed my body and I plotted for vengeance.

My 1st full poem in 8 years

We are what we make ourselves to be,
fragments of truth covered by lies,
the sum of all our parts are we,
no more than a fragile being that dies.

To die is to find release,
courage to end; to be or not to be,
at last my soul can be at peace,
but that is not my fate to be.

No my fate is one of healing,
though in fate I shan't believe,
why ask if I'm given to feeling,
if you know I've no feeling to give.

To love is to truly KNOW an other,
to love is to give completely,
the truth it is that holds all together,
the truth is what destroys absolutely.

The truth; my heart is torn asunder,
the crescent moon is where my killer is hiding,
like Apollo the laurel has graced this hunter,
my mind, my mind the hunter is reading.

What truth my mind shall not give up,
my heart; my heat it hungers to tell,
to sing, to shout, to deny or to give up,
to decide, to brood: to tell or not to tell.

The laurel, a sign from gods on high,
the crescent, a place where all is nothing,
to live, to die, to exist, to sigh,
to embrace, to welcome, it's all or nothing.

Please do forgive the poem, it was very late when I crafted it.

Try your hand at deciphering it, it ain't difficult; pretty standard stuff.

The Wounded Healer

Am I built for this?

Am I capable of being a healer?

I'm much more adept at destroying and deconstructing, anybody can tell you that much about me. Breaking things down to their basic building blocks; that's what I'm more than capable of. As a child I've always found it exciting to take anything that I came across apart into teeny little pieces. Of course putting it back together is a tougher challenge which I didn't really pick up until recently.

Let's put this into context then: human beings. I do the same with people. I deconstruct them to their basic driving forces, vices, impulses and ulterior motives. Psychologically anyways.. but it's about the same however I look at a person: I break them down into their genetics, their physical construct and their sociopsychological construct as I said. I find it easier that way maybe so that I don't have to 'deal' with a full person. It has work for me so far and no one has particularly noticed anything peculiar about how I handle other people but at times I do come across as being a tad cold. Maybe it's the only way I can remain objective because if I were to allow myself to get involved, I'd get very involved and lose all sense of objectivity.

I wonder if my parents ever wonder about this aspect of their child. In many circumstances that has to deal with death, I am one of the most detached persons they can ever find... not including those that don't really care much about the deceased or dying of course. This is not recent too, I've always been like this.. ever since I can remember. No matter how close I was to the person, upon their death I could never 'react'.. of course on the inside I was sad but it doesn't show. I just detach myself rather quickly. The only time I got 'involved' I lost all control and wept like a newborn....... and it was the death of my favourite cat that drove me there. I do feel and I can relate to sadness but expressing it is something else altogether.

I worry about my humanity.. I worry about not being able to communicate my emotions to other human beings. I can say words I don't mean or mean very little with little difficulty but expressing my genuine feelings verbally is something I have rarely or never done. I've never told anyone how I genuinely felt about them; if I did it would have been toned down or sugarcoated unless it were in anger or in spite. Why is it so difficult for me to express my true emotions to another living human being? Why is it so hard for me to hold someone I'm affectionate with? God knows I want to. God also knows I'd start breaking that person down into their base parts and suspect their motives sooner or later and I'll detach myself then.

So I ask myself, can I be a healer despite my shortcomings?

Can I be a healer when I need healing?

Can I ever stop being so paranoid and actually let people in?

The promised "teehee" post

I've been in university for 5 years now... well ok, actually I've been in 2 universities in the span of 5 years and no, I did not flunk out of one and then join another. I spent 3 years getting a degree and have invested 5 years into another degree. Crazy I know but what can I say? It's what I want so no regrets.

God I so do not know how to do a "teehee" post.

I suppose I could say I have a whole lot more friends now than I ever did in my first 3 years though that number wasn't exactly difficult to beat.

I suppose I like keeping to myself... a lot. Getting me to step out of the door is a crusade in itself, unless we're meeting for drinks somewhere quiet and I get to drive around randomly afterwards. Other times, I'm a rather homely person...... not that I'd willingly entertain guests at my home unless I'm very close to them.
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So yea, this is my "teehee" post.... I'll close it with a picture then.

Wonder ponder wonder

I wonder what the truth is. Am I as emotionally detached as I'd like to think? Am I truly able to control my emotions so well that it seems as if I don't have any or that I don't feel much? Sometimes I do think that the truth is the complete opposite: I tend to feel a lot more than I'd like to admit, more than I can block out. Relating to an especially sad situation and experiencing the sadness that radiates from it seems to be an interesting 'skill' of mine.

In 24 years I've had 2 emotional breakdowns. Major ones. Ones I don't particularly like to talk about but let's just say: they were bad. Not the sobbing "why me why me?" sort. More of the numbing, internalising until you can't feel existence, withdrawing into yourself, wanting to scream but you can't find any way of vocalising your screams, chaotic thought patterns, wanting to just cease to exist, massive blood loss sort. It's a whole lot of effort cleaning up the blood after let me tell you, phwoar. (I'm trying to be less dark here). I ended up in the foetal position once and semi-catatonic the other time.

So, am I unfeeling or do I actually feel way too much that it numbs me?

Water or Fire?

Perhaps I embody both elements.