Them. Or How to Assemble the Perfect Rubix Cube.

Ok so I am sort of back, but then again you care as much as the next guy…and since there is no next guy (or girl if you’re that picky), then I guess I can do anything I want and get away with it.

Luckily I am not an asshole, (as a certain few might think) and therefore I wont start doing something completely out of proportion and start linking every word to a porn site.

I will however drag out some points that are currently happening in my life (read: undead-infested shit hole) (Ok..so I'm a little ass.) and try to present them in the light of an ever dimming flashlight.

Speaking of shiny things, ill make a stealthy smooth transition to my first point. (oops)

I don't understand rubix cubes. Ok, sure - they’re fun, very colourful and pretty to look at and completely make me feel so happy inside when i develop a connection with them…..but seriously. You NEED to one time just stop, and walk back up the cliff you’ve been going down and look at the god-damn thing from a mile away to realize its been leading you into a pit of fucking magma. HOT BLAZING MAGMA. If by then you’re not scared to your pants, to run all the way down, kiss it in the cheek and continue walking then you, my dear friend, are a moron.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this analogy actually, But my point is that the rubix cube is like almost every woman you meet these days. Yes, their hair resembles a bloody furbie that you want to run your fingers through until they bleed (your fingers – not the hair), and sure you want to kiss her all day long and roll around in b- sorry. too far. But YOU CANT DO ANY OF IT. You need a freaking Webster's dictionary for the Blind Men to decipher whatever she’s throwing at you. Here is a couple of entries that I'd like a definition for:

When she looks you straight in the eye and stares at you with a slight smile on her face for a few uncomfortable minutes-

When she ends up beside you…and unreasonably close beside you every time you look around-

and there are of course millions of others that would make a nice change than from just updating the English language with words like “Muggle” and “screenager” that no being on earth will ever use other than in context. (…and in a very low context).

But while Oxford Dictionary tries to copy Webster; all I can do is wonder why someone does these things which to me seem to be great signs of “HAI LETS DATE!” but which turn out to be random mishaps….that happen every single fucking day.

All in all; I'm ok with this if you don't count the massive brain damage i might get after being hit by so many blunt rubix cubes. But maybe destiny has a huge rubix cube in store for me with lost of shiny surfaces and colourful squares…..maybe even gradients :D That’ll be fun.

I also get comfort from not being alone. I met someone else a week ago who is also looking for a rubix cube. Except he`s looking for one who wields a light-saber and understands every Star trek reference he throws at her. Im a little more….open, so to speak. I wont hold a grudge against the person I like if they are unsure of what “Nintendo” is, or if she has no idea how to shoot a shotgun.

No; Im worried more about other things…which leads me to my next subtle topic:

Drinking

Gawd I hate it. It’s not so much as the thought that drinking is “bad”or anything, its just that I hate the way people act when under the effect of alcohol in their veins. It takes over them. It makes them turn inside out and makes me want to slap them in their face and ask them why in the world they would do such a thing.

Hey - I've got nothing against a few drinks or two (other than the fact that any % makes me want to puke from just the smell) But I guess child-hood nightmares always somehow relate to adolescent life. In my case; I guess it’s been drinking. You see; I was born and raised in a family where every goddamn event is spent splattering your liver with vodka (like all good European cultures) – And I’m serious. Birth? – Drinking. School?-Drinking. University? – Drinking. Marriage? – Drinking. Death? – Drinking and more fucking drinking.

I’ve seen so many drunk faces in my life, and seeing someone who is usually such an elegant and beautiful woman with her pupils dilated at some party with her cell phone stuck in between her body and a bra-strap just completely breaks me down. That’s the fault I see in my school. Everyone drinks illegally here. Okay, Okay I know it’s not supposed to be a big deal – it should even be great since you can “score sum chicks at teh partay – bro!” But I don’t go like that.

I already said why.I hear people have so much “fun” while drinking.

If any of you have found out how waking up in an alley, head hurting, ears buzzing, not knowing where you are, hugging some girl, is supposed to be considered fun, then please inform me.

Same story with drugs as well. When my friends get together, we’re more than just high – we’re plain crazy, and not even a drop of alcohol has touched our tongues. Now looking back at this, I may have over reacted a tad bit, so I’ll just say this: Sure; I’ll drink with my friends when I need to, but I don’t think I want to get wasted.

Alice is long gone. I still have her in one of my classes, though. It is annoying! I was sitting behind her, and she switched seats! I swear I was not going to talk to her ever again long before i went into the room but she still saw it best to move away. Grrr. This wont be fun.

( Summer Entry has been combined with October entry.)

*******

They say that writing helps sleep.

But then again, they are usually wrong.

 

I am writing this because I think I can prove “them” wrong, elaborate on “their” faults, and maybe teach “them” a lesson.

The sad part is – this is all being written by hand, since I am in bed with no internet connection in about a 2 meter radius around me. There isn’t a living thing in about 3, and frankly, even if we increase the radius to about 20 km around me, there wouldn’t be a single thought being carried out that could link back to me. It doesn’t bother me as a whole – no. You may think that at least my parents would be thinking about the events of today, but they aren’t – mother is talking quietly on the phone and father is busily typing on the keyboard down the hall – and me? I’m just sitting here. Wondering what exactly is bothering me, what exactly is carefully peeling away the flesh at the top of my head and gnawing through my bones, ripping through my insides – tugging – pulling, trying to cut me in half – all the while my heart pounds in exhaustion – both trying to fuel my need for oxygen, but careful to not overfill itself, burst the arteries, and my brain swims from images flying through my eyes – diluting my pupils – freezing my body – trying to stop the flood with a piece of see-through paper – and all – every last one of me scream in unison with hoarse voices – STOP! STOP! STOP!

But it’s too late for that. I'm already analyzing. I'm already trying to comprehend. I'm already trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

It’s ironic how good I am with physical puzzles but when its the puzzle of something else – like a feeling – I am completely lost. It’s just too late for anything now. Truth is…I don't know what I’m feeling.

Jealousy. Yes, I guess it is safe to call it that. It’s not perfect though. It’s the fish in the fish stew, but that doesn't mean it isn't stew without the fish. Anyway; I guess i have to feed some story before the events.

You may have guessed it, but this is about a rubix cube.

(How dare you roll your eyes at me!)

Anyway.  She’s special. I have NO idea why she’d be. But I don't think she’s a cube. A hexagonal prism maybe? At any rate… I guess I see something in her.

She knows now. I preferred she didn't, but that doesn't matter. Nothing’ll change.

I realised a few days ago that in my mind there isn't a difference between “like” and “love”. To me, they are synonyms. I believe that’s “their” fault. My life has become what I see on screen. I am a copycat by nature – I copy qualities I see – well, my sub-self does it by its lonesome, but that's hardly the point. I don't know what I feel. I love (loved now) the hexagonal prism, but maybe its a less-love. “They” portray love too quickly – too suddenly, since the most they have is two hours to show their most recent work of “art”.

The 31st was Halloween (ironically the anniversary of this journal of hell :) wooo! ) and I had to sit 2 hours watching “Rocky Horror Picture Show”. Even after 2 bloody hours I remained indifferent to the film, all the while everyone else once again sang the songs, repeated cheesy character dialog, and danced the dances. I pretended to enjoy myself for the benefit of them all, but I didn't really understand anything. Hopefully, I will never watch it again.

If I do, the feelings I felt a couple days ago will flood back again.

I guess you can take what I'm saying with a great deal of scepticism, since I am very likely over-reacting and completely killing my nervous system for nothing. But I am, all in all, jealous.

I'm a very soft, needy person. I cant stand being ignored, and in this case, I couldn’t stand being there without attention. The prism was leaning on Pages. (There’s the eye rolling again.) Yes, I know she’s a flirty prism, and sometimes just does what makes her feel comfortable, but gosh, it still killed me. Okay, so she put her legs on me, (we were sitting on a long couch) but that didn't make me feel any better. I knew she was not interested in him, but that didn't change the fact that it looked like she did.

Jeez. I hate how I’m moping and whining about this. I’m supposed to be all tough and uncaring for women. I'm supposed to move on and not remember the girl I kissed last week (or something along those lines). But that' doesn't seem to be me.

My guess is that’s what “they” want me to be. I don't like that. Not one bit. So I sat there, images of her resting on him shot me arrow by arrow, until I was completely dead inside. Completely lifeless.

I think she doesn't know what she wants. There have been moments, where there were situations where I felt her hand feel me. My stomach when I lay down. My shoulder muscles when we are sitting. Nothing to feel, sadly. So those were failures.

I want to fit a little into the mould. You prisms say you don't care how we look, I say B.S. Because that's what “they” have told you through countless of soap operas and books about knights and sparkling vampires, and on and on and on – but your consciousness still wants to behave on its own. They made a study, conclusion said that prisms liked nerds better than jocks in the long run. But it also said that there’s no reason a few muscles here and there could do any harm. So I’m lost. I feel like I’m drifting away from it all. I don't care anymore about what happens with this whole romance novel that never gets to a goddamn end. I have watched it for too long – seen it be pushed back to later and later times on Tuesday night, and now the plot is so twisted and full of so many holes that I could care less. And now I’m going to change the channel.

Yeah, sure – now I want to end this with something “sweet” like “If only you were mine…” or “I know you don't care, but please find someplace in your heart…” or end off with a modified quote as “Curiosity killed the cat, love killed me” or “Sticks and stones may stick to my soles, but you have no idea how much you hurt me”

…But that’s just “them” talking. I already said what the problem is “They” don't usually get things right.

But the truth is “They” don't know anything… and besides…

It’s all about me from now on.

___________________________________________________

What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness.

What.

~~For your own good, don't read this :)  it makes no sense and will just make your head hurt~~

What if love was hate?

What if hate was love?

What if self-esteem was what we never wanted?

What if rejection was hard to find?

What if happiness would be prosecuted?

What if violence would be welcomed?

What if recessions were good to the economy?

What if being lied to, was a turn-on?

What if rape was the only way to reproduce?

What if apples grew from bushes?

What if gravity ran on batteries?

What if friends had to be fought for?

What if affection had to be payed for?

What if humans had to be hunted?

What if chocolate was considered meat?

What if sweet was sour?

What if sour was sweet?

What if the seven sins were the only rules to a happy life?

What if guilt was a the new drug?

What if condoms were actually a snack for children?

What if we where moving back in time?

What if due dates were never assigned?

What if acting was an Olympic Sport?

What if Sport was banned from the world?

What if we all died?

Would the World still be the same?

Would the continents still be similar?

Would the people still look the same?

Would I be the same person?

Would I still be ...Max?

Raceless

I wrote this a while ago, and decided to share it:

 

I’m not a church person. I’m not saying I don't believe in God. I just don't usually go to talk to Him about all the crap happening in my life. He may listen, but I believe that to let some else fix your problem while you sit on a chair, praying, is cowardly.

A church to me is like an art gallery, payed for a price. It’s a beautiful place to walk to on a Sunday morning. The way the trees bend into arches, making a small path towards the stone monuments? It just awakens me like nothing else. I'm not a church person, but something did pull me there today.

Going in through the arches of rock took me into a large hall where two large water basins stood. I looked into one of them, dipped a finger in and sent ripples through out the basin.

As if for a greeting, the bottom of the basin changed - morphed somehow. At first I thought I was imagining it, perhaps the ripples I had once created changed the water I looked at now.

We did what had to be done, to make the cold wars end, we all be and came one.

Not understanding, I moved on.

He greeted me, limp in the shoulders, crown of thorns on his holy head.

But I am not a church person, so I didn't kneel. I did, however, nod. I knew he was up there, watching.

Why did they always show him in the position of being hanged on the cross? Why would they never show how he is being risen from the dead? That’s the happy part – why depress ourselves with the bad parts? I shook my head; clearing it, and moved on.

I sat down at a bench mid-way to the alter and mid-way to the door, hoping that I didn't come at a time of mass. I began surveying the glass.

Time saw us in different shades than you.

and

The brother of skin will be no more different than the imposter’s child.

stared up at me. I didn't understand. But I moved on. My gaze fell on an angel.

St. Cosmas. A healer.

said the inscription below.

I stared at it for a while, examining the wings and the body of the saint.

“Isn’t it just beautiful?” a voice asked after a few minutes.

I looked at her. She was sitting beside me. The lights danced in her hair, illuminating it.

I shrugged. “I'm not really a church person, I don't know what it all means.”

She laughed. It was a musical laugh. “I'm not really a church person either, but I understand.”

I still didn't understand, so I wanted her to talk more.

We sat in silence.

“You know what would make this glass painting even more beautiful?” she asked finally.

“You being in it?” I replied, grinning. She laughed. I was happy.

“No,” she said slowly, her smile vanishing. “color would.”

I screwed up my face. “Color?” What a funny word. “What’s that?”

I hoped this wasn’t something a church person could only understand, for I wanted to know too.

“They took it out.” She gestured to the window panes. “The most beautiful thing in the whole wide world, was taken away from us.”

More beautiful than her? I couldn't imagine it.

“It was all different before. The fur of the dogs wasnt the plain thing we see now... The trees where beautifully colored and swayed with the happiness of the world.” She looked at me. I could only gaze in her eyes with wonder.  “You’d be colorful too.”

My mind tried to race through the passages of memory to find a way to comfort her, to bring back her smile. All in vain.

We sat in silence again.

“Why…why did they take it all away?” It was I who spoke first this time. The silence following after my question rang in my ears loud and clear. We sat so still – that I had to double check if she was still there. I was never a church person; but today, I couldn't help but think that He was watching over me and her. As if this very conversation would change everything.

Something slid down her cheek. Tears. I hated them. She didn’t deserve to cry.

“Because we were all so different. More different than female and male; more different than adult and child…we had different colored skin back then, different colored personalities, different colored water, sand and - almost anything else you could have possibly imagined!”

I was confused again. Why take away such a beautiful trait? I listened on.

“But with the differences..comes problems. Racism, abuse and so many other horrible things. People used these things as excuses to get back at their enemies or just from plain old greed…Remember “money”?”

I may have not been a church person; but money was one thing I remembered. I smiled at her and nodded.

“Well that was what everyone was after; money. Back then…money meant power. And people used “differences” to get more of it.”

“So color was used against ourselves?”

She nodded. “Beauty was shattered and became nothing more than a memory to some.”

We sat again. I understood her words clearly, they rang true with each syllable. I turned to her after a long moment. “How is it that you know so much about color and money and everything…when I have never heard anyone say anything about it?”

She stared up at “The Healer” glass painting again, probably imagining how it would have looked with color, and then, quietly, as if to make sure not even He could hear, she pronounced the next few words with such clarity that I forever remembered them. “Parceque…Je me souviens.”

I may have not been a church person, but I could speak French alright.

“You…remember?” I asked her.

She didn’t respond for the longest time. Her head was bowed down and if I would have not known better, I would have said she was praying. Then her whole body trembled. And then she pushed herself to my chest, her head pressing against my shoulder, crying. Something sweet and fluttering rose in my stomach and warmed up my whole body.

Love.

My hands wrapped around her frame and I hugged her back. We sat like that, clinging to each other as if losing one another would end the world more that color already did. A warm body was all we both had left. And we clung on for our dear lives.

I have never been, and hopefully never will be a church person, not after what they have done to the color, but when I sat there, hugging her…I saw a spark of understanding. These sparks caressed us both; illuminated us, gave us knowledge and made us both stronger. Many minutes passed but we still clung on. Then we finally let go. Wiping off the tears in her eyes, she leaned in…and kissed me…and I remembered everything.

Now I know, that I have none other than God to thank for that.

Happiness and Disasters

Wow. It’s really been quite a while.

I don't believe time rushed by so quickly; the strength of the beat of the wings by which the falcon soared past these couple of weeks was indeed quite frightening.

…*ahem* …got a little carried away there…sorry. I have a tendency to turn everything into a metaphor, or an analogy (as well as write blog updates at 1:45 in the morning) . I guess it’s a safety mechanism my mind makes in order to understand everything, and not to be afraid of the unknown.

I'm currently kind of worried about Léayza. She’s really nice, and a really good person when she wants to be. She has this way..or seeing things. It quite interesting. Sadly; I am worried of how open she is to other strangers. If there has ever been an open book – she's the best of the batch. Strangely enough; I think it’s a sort of cover…not 100% of a shield but sometimes covering a part of a question with a misleading answer…like a pair of sunglasses. She got killed(metaphorically, of course) awhile ago but is recovering so quickly its alarming, but very happy to see. Her eyes are on others now. I just wonder if she was meant to run and fall. I hope not – no one should be in such torture.

I’ve been actually in a good mood lately, not counting my yearning to fit in, and the constant pain with which I walk with everyday. Since my first year at school, I had always noticed a girl sitting in the shadows. Her name is…I can’t give her a name that would be suitable. I will have to call her Alice, I guess. Even that is not enough…not as powerful a name to be worthy of her.

She is amazing. She is beautiful, funny and as clever as you can get. She was a sort of “fantasy” in my mind, ever since I saw her. I don't mean I wanted to sleep with her ever since I saw her…I mean I wanted to be with her. It isn't something that happens everyday, and being the fantasy that she was, I decided to not even try. Fantasies are like dreams – blurry, unpredictable and forever changing…to fall in love with a dream..would be foolish.

At the very beginning, I decided- well..something better to say would be…my mind decided it was best for me to start off with a more likely girl – someone that had a better chance of fancying me. And so it went on…the year passed. I had been broken, repaired and broken again many times. That was until recently. I had been ill for two weeks, but when I came back to school the teacher arranged me to sit beside (wouldn’t you know it?) - Alice.

I was about to have a heart attack, I think. I was thanking anyone who was out there above, who ever pulled the strings in the universe to make this happen, was deeply mocking me. Showing me a way out of a hell-hole and into the light – but I think it’s all a mirage. Nothing can be this real.

And her eyes…they have some great power over me. I cant resist looking at her even when we’re in the hall. It gets really annoying. Funny thing is we don't say Hi to each other in the hall, but we talk a lot on class. I dunno what it all means, but who knows.

About the book, now. Nothing new at all. I wrote some more concept “art” for it but hardly wrote a word. I need to start soon.

Aaaannd on a lighter note, MY BIRTHDAY IS COMING UP !!! I'm really excited. It’s funny how I don't really see what the whole deal about the “sweet 16” thing is all about. I mean its not 18 or anything – you’re not completely free from the rest of the world binding you.

 

Well That’s all for today…er….night. And I’m going off to bed.

Beep…Beep…Beep…Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

That's all that’s in my mind right now…The sound of the heart-beat. As of  5 o'clock in the morning today…I will never see the world again the same way as I did before. I now have a filter of death running through my eyes; clouding my head…coughing up my heart. My grandmother, Tamara, is now dead. In two days shall be the funeral; and I will have to attend. As I’m writing this; I cant think; I don't know if the text above this even makes any sense…but I could on my brain for it to at least try to make sense. I woke up today at around that time to my mothers sobs; she was telling my dad the news. I silently blocked off the memory…I couldn't believe it. I went back to sleep; I hated the world; something was ripped out of me…I don't know what…but something was. I went to sleep and woke up at 2:45 PM…I understand what happened; my body didn't want to wake up; didn't want to face the world as it is. But in the end I guess I had to get up…It felt good to sleep it all off. I now face everything directly..until it hurts so much that i curl up again and wish it all away.

I have been thinking about the whole luck thing; and I was wondering whether this has something to do about it. I really want to doubt it; but I don't know. Fate made me sit beside a girl who I really like; I wonder if that luck has anything to do with Tamara dying. I hope it doesn’t …I don't want to feel guilt on top of sadness. I keep comforting so many people; family members…..We’re not animals…We cant not care. Monkeys have sex whenever they want, dogs piss whenever they want….but we’re humans….we wait till it’s private to sleep with someone…we excuse ourselves to go to the bathroom. But we can understand a passing. My mom is crying and saying that she’s gone. I know that I will never hold her hand again…or look into her eyes….or talk to her about the previous years…I know that she is gone…

 

But I think I can accept that.

A Fortune Cookie

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been told that I was a lucky child. I couldn’t ever grasp what this really meant, nor how important it really was. Throughout the many years that I’ve lived on this earth, I’ve seen so much that could forever suggest my “luckiness syndrome” otherwise. It’s only now that I understand why my parents keep so many secrets about their lives away from me, not to protect themselves or my family, but to protect me.

This supposed “luck” never really appeared until my later years though, when I got a semi-scholarship. (not reaallyy what you call a scholarship, but more like a lottery grand) Which I ended up using for some computer courses in order to learn some programming languages, which lets me succeed in my Programming class this year, and help out others. In grade 8 I had the honor of going to the Parliament, and representing my riding in order to do parliamentary duties being a “Page”. It was loads of fun, and I met many interesting people, and had lots of wonderful experiences I will probably never forget. This helped me during this year’s Civics Class, as I knew the parliamentary system like the back of my hand.

 

All these things were in some way, a form of my “luck” acting upon my life. But with every good, there has to always be a bad.

 

Like I said before, my past is an ocean of bad luck, so I think it’s safe to say I'm on luck’s side right now, but bad luck always comes my way when something wonderful and great happens. It’s a matter of balance, I presume.

 

Another thing I would like to talk about is school. School, school, and once again, school. As you probably know January is most famous for not only the freezing winds and the chilling snow, but also for everyone’s favorite – exams. I’ve never been a great studier; always being tempted by my computer or by the TV or kitchen to do something else –anything …just to avoid the books.

This year I had a ray of hope shine over me, a person that I knew for only a little while at the beginning of last year, that happened to disappear as quickly as she came, kept me on task (or at least tried to). An interesting person she really is. A person who sets a goal; and always tries to complete it. She’s a great person, and I send my appreciation to her. It’s been a while since I could talk to some one…well..not just talk, but really talk to someone who actually gave a damn. It’s heart-warming, and it’s pleasant. She’s one of those people – well probably the only one that I can really feel free to talk about anything. My oldest friend, a couple of weeks ago, was getting more apart from me day by day. I knew she has a boyfriend and all, and she is busy hanging out with him, but I saw no reason for her to be so distant when she was speaking to me. Later she told me it was a “pre-caution”. I cant understand it, and I don't know if I’m even supposed to, but she apologized, and I felt bad for getting angry, and I accepted. She’s one of my greatest friends, and loosing her would indeed be horrible.

I have been so busy that the book had made no progress writing-wise. I say “writing-wise” because I progressed quite a lot “plot-wise”. I now know where some of the characters are going; and how they're going to meet. It’s really exciting, I realized after finishing a page of brain-storming, to be able to shape your own story and see how exactly it will turn out.

In a way, I wish life was a story that was already written out. you would just need to worry about getting a wad of cash or a library card to buy or borrow yourself from some store close by. We wouldn't have to struggle over what courses to pick, or have to choose our careers. We’d know exactly when we’d get braces; or when we’d get rejected by our partners, or how that car on a Saturday evening at 8 o'clock in the morning will crash into that little quiet coffee shop were you always order a donut and a Double-Double, killing you and that ex-girlfriend you still have feelings for…. What? Well we can’t expect to live a completely happy life, can we? What’s a good story if it has no drama, no tragedies or losses? But I guess that’s the irony of knowing about an unfortunate event; the prevention. The way how we avoid death at all costs…should we not embrace and rejoice? Well what can we do? Can knowing really be the answer? I will never know.

 

I labeled this post as “Fortune Cookie” because today I went to Mandarin; A nice little restaurant in North America, and they give fortune cookies in the end of your meal…I got something I did not expect. Mine said that I was supposed to become a business man, now anyone else would probably shrug such a thing off and continue their life…but not me. I have had too much experience with fortune cookies; Mine always come true, and they always are true. So this fortune disgusts me, because I am not supposed to be a business man, but what Can I do? I don't have the book of my life; I cant flip to the appropriate chapter to try to see where I went wrong…to avoid it because change means the world will change as well; and changing the world would change everyone around you; kill them perhaps…and we cant have that. Luck is always supposed to be my strength, but now I see it can also be my weakness.