This is the first part of a short story I wrote entitled "The Lightbringer." Enjoy, if you dare.

He crested the top of the hill, his destination finally in sight. A castle, nestled among the hills, rested next to the sea. The sun was setting, deep oranges and purples shooting across the sky. Emerald grasses covered the ground, ranging from the glassy sapphire sea to as far as the eye could see. Small white animals dotted the pastures, small clumps of sheep and cattle. The setting sun cast long shadows across the landscape. The scenery was idyllic, like heaven to the man who looked over it. The man was young, thin, but muscles were clearly visible through his thin shirt. His vibrant red hair looked like flames in the fading sunlight, and a long, elaborate sword hung from his belt. He staggered forward a couple steps, his slender frame exhausted and pained from his journey, but smiled despite it. He was home.

He entered the castle, his body aching and tired. But this was not a chance to rest; there was work to be done. The young man limped toward the enormous doorway before him; the two sentries, recognizing him, instantly stepped aside to let him through. Grunting, he pushed the tall arched door open, struggling under its heavy weight. “Lord!” he shouted, his voiced carrying down the long corridor.

The figure at the end of the hall shifted slightly, gesturing him forward. He limped down toward the regal figure, trying to ignore the pain deep in his leg. The tired young man reached the end of the corridor, stopping to kneel before the elderly man in the large gold chair.

“Arise, good knight.”

“Lord Raghnall, I come with news from the east. The Saxons have left their lands, rising on the warpath. They destroy all in their path. The Lord Artorius is raising an army. He requests your help, lord,” the young man began, his quiet voice lined deep with concern.

“Sir Geal, the English can deal with their own troubles. Arthur has done nothing for the peoples of Ireland. He has given none of his great prosperity and renown to our island. His own uncle, King Lot of Wales, has been very gracious to our kingdom. He has paid us in tribute, opened his land to trade, and even you possess a gift from him. Yet Arthur has done nothing. Why should we come to his aid now?”

“I am sorry, liege lord. He says that the Saxons, the barbarians from the north, will stop at nothing. They will conquer all, and divided all the kingdoms of our isles will fall,” Geal answered, wishing to God for His great strength.

“The honorable King Arthur has supposed a lot. Why should the Saxons continue to the west? England has more than enough land for the barbarians,” Lord Raghnall said, his voice thick with contempt.

“My lord, the king believes in the greed of the barbarians. It may be more than enough, but it will not satisfy their bloodlust. We must band together to protect ourselves. Already seven kings, including Lot, whose allegiance you hold so dear, have already pledged their armies to Arthur,” Sir Geal answered, hoping this plea would appeal to his king.

“Lot—pledged to Artorius?” Lord Raghnall was obviously shocked, taken aback. He stroked his beard, a thoughtful look in his crystal blue eyes. “Why would Lot do this without consulting to me?”

“I believe, lord, that he understands the troubles of the islands.”

“He is closer to England. He is more at risk than Ireland.”

“Perhaps, my lord, but we, too, have a lot to lose.”

“Sir Geal, you have given me much to think about,” the king said abruptly. “You are dismissed now. Go relax; you must be weary from your long journey.” Geal bowed again, his achy legs a testament to his lord’s words, and turned to leave. “It is good to have you back, son.” Geal smiled in gratitude as he walked away from his king and father.

***

“Geal, Geal!”

The knight turned, looking down the stone hallway. A young man, only two years older than Sir Geal, jogged through toward him. He had a shock of messy brown hair that complimented his deep brown eyes and a winning smile. Where Geal was slender, this man was short and stocky, obviously a physical being. Geal smiled in recognition.

“How are you, Merrich?”

“Just fine, brother! How was your trip to Briton?”

Geal’s smile remained, though his eyes looked distraught. “I do not know. Artorius is requesting help from all the nearby kingdoms. He says that the Saxons won’t stop until Horsa and Hengest are dead.”

Merrich frowned, thoughtful. “Arthur is rarely wrong about such things. And Hengest is as brutal a king as they come; I doubt he’ll rest until the world is under his control. What does father say?”

“He is unsure. He doubts Arthur’s reasoning. You know our father, he is careful in his decisions, and this is no exception,” Geal said diplomatically.

“Arthur is wise, and not easily fooled. I believe him; Hengest will kill and destroy. Nothing will make him happy. We must come to the aid of Arthur, if we are to save our own kingdom.”

***

Sir Geal sighed, concern evident in every breath. It was almost a week later when Lord Raghnall called his son back, telling him that Ireland would defend its own borders. Arthur would have to defend himself from the Saxons. Geal was sent to organize the kingdoms borders, and now here he was, mobilizing a backcountry fort, trying to prepare the poorly-trained troops for the ferocity of the barbarians. He was on a walk a few miles from the wooden fort, only a dozen soldiers as his guard. It was mid-afternoon, the sun distant, high in the sky. They walked in quiet through an emerald forest. The sun spilt through the foliage, creating an array of wonderful greens as it pierced through the leaves. It was soothing, pleasant, but soon the calm was broken.

A fierce, wild cry broke through the trees, and chaos erupted around the Irish soldiers. Almost thirty men burst through the forest onto the soldiers, dirty, clad in the hides of animals, screaming in an incomprehensible, violent language, their weapons wicked and deadly.

“Saxons!” a soldier cried, drawing his sword in his shaking hand.

The fight was fast, brutal, lasting only a matter of minutes. Blades and blood flew everywhere, cries of fury and anguish resounded through the air. It was savage, sharp, and in the end, few were left standing. Geal was covered in sweat, a deep and bloody scar across his eye. He breathed heavily, standing over a wounded Saxon who clutched his arm that lay limp by his side. “What are you here for?” Geal said, menace in his voice.

The Saxon looked up at him, a fury in his eyes. “You!”

Geal started, shocked, and looked back into the Saxon’s eyes, as if he could tell whether or not the man was lying. “Why would you want me?”

“You are a risk,” the Saxon sneered, “If you convince your father to go to the Britons, then Arthur’s army will be too strong. Hengest wants you dead!” The Saxon spat on Geal’s face, then struggled to draw his sword before an Irish dagger sunk into his throat.

***

It was a four days’ journey back to Raghnall’s castle, and Geal didn’t waste a minute. His return was greeted with shock; he hadn’t even been gone two weeks and was supposed to be gone for months. The news of the attempted assassination was even more shocking: a barbarian invasion and the attempt to kill the young prince outraged the Irish kingdom. The cut on his eye had scarred over, jarring his princely appearance. The scar was a reminder to all who saw him that Hengest would not leave Ireland alone, and Raghnall’s entire kingdom was clamoring for revenge.

It took only three days to amass the first army. Sir Merrich, the future king, was to lead them to Arthur’s aid. Geal’s older brother was violent with anger. His love for his brother was unquestioned, and it was all his father and brother could do to restrain him from heading out alone to take on Hengest and Horsa.

And it was a fortnight after his scarring when Geal stepped off the boat, back in Arthur’s kingdom. He was in the second army, led by his father, and would be welcomed into their host’s court at dawn of the next day. The soldiers were restless, ready for a fight. Geal softly touched his forehead, feeling the mark above his eye. The Irish soldiers camped at their landing site, only a half an hour’s walk from Arthur’s fortifications. Horsa and Hengest were moving to the west, trying to cut off Lot’s forces from Arthur’s. Geal slipped into his tent.

He was tired. It had been a long day; a long month, really. He closed his eyes, trying to relax, only to be startled out of his near sleep when someone approached his tent.

“Sir Geal?” a voice questioned politely.

“Come in,” Geal invited, never even opening his eyes.

A tall man entered, broad-shouldered and strikingly handsome. He was dressed in full armor, ready for a fight; but then again, he was hardly ever out of battle-dress. Everything about him was military—he was an enormous and physical man, and rumors circled around Ireland that he was so large, he once crushed an enemy’s skull with his bare hands. “My lord, how do you feel?” the man asked, his voice a deep rumble, bear-like and gravelly.

“I am fine, Sir Shae,” Geal answered, his eyes opening reluctantly. “Please, have a seat.”

“Do not worry, my lord. I shan’t be long. I was sent by your father to tell you that Arthur invites your family to break your fast in his camp. He wants you ready to leave before the sun rises,” Sir Shae delivered the message and awaited a response.

“Thank you, Sir Shae. You may tell him that I will be ready.” Sir Geal closed his eyes again, and fell asleep before he was able to get to bed.

Ags win 54-14. Gig'em, Aggies! Finally playing like a Division I team!!

Writing a story write now for my Creative Writing class. The topic is "Gross Out." I'll be sure to post it after I am finished. I'm on the first paragraph right now.

I wrote another story. It's Arthurian. I'll post it in the next couple of days. I think it's pretty good. It's 14 pages long, which makes it the single longest thing I've ever written. Impressive? I'm not sure. At least it's a milestone, in a way. It could probably be lengthened to a novella at some point. But for now, I'm busy with other writings.

Speaking of other writings, I also have a 4-6 page History essay that is due on Thursday, so I'd probably better get to work.

This is something I wrote for my Creative Writing class. Enjoy.

Beloved John,

Thank you for enquiring. Yes, Elise is doing well. We are happy to have finally settled into the new house, but I don’t look forward to emptying all the boxes. It is too strange that you mention that strange dream in your last letter. I, too, had the same dream just three nights ago! Yet where yours ended, mine kept going.

The bell rang, just as in your dream. We stood there in the bell tower, surveying the landscape. The decrepit, ruined gothic architecture cast ghostly shadows in the moonlight. The rain was only a light drizzle where we were, but the storm was obviously headed our way. The dull roar of explosions continued to sound in the distance, occasionally punctuated with the clap of thunder. I wiped the blood from my face, and you continued to grin at me.

“Still okay, little brother?” you asked.

“I am,” I answered, wiping my now-bloody hand on my uniform. “But I am ready for this to end.”

“We all are, little brother. We all are.”

We watched the flashes from artillery in the distance, a sort of peaceful quiet around us, despite the apparent chaos on the ground below. The silence was broken several minutes later by the squawk of the radio. We had the go-ahead. You knelt, shouldering the rifle, and looked carefully through the scope. I wiped the blood from my face again and cursed. “This blood keeps getting in my eyes.”

You tossed me a rag, which I quickly tied around my forehead, hoping to staunch the flow of blood and keep it out of my eyes. “See him yet?” I asked. You shook your head, and that’s when it happened.

The bell tower rocked, hit by an artillery shell. You tumbled, managing to brace yourself with your arms. I was sent sprawling, bouncing across the floor like a ragdoll, coming to rest against the opposite wall. I was dizzy, and had the most curious floating feeling, which I can only now on recollection attribute to that strange sensation that is so particular to dreams. There was an intense pain shooting up my arm, and I could see my blood pooling once around me once again. You looked over to me and cursed, your eyes wide with horror.

“Christ, there’s shrapnel in you!” You clamored over to me, your hands hovering just over my body, as if in a desperate dilemma to help or to stop from making it worse.

I coughed. “John, I’m okay. We need to keep going. We need to get him.”

“Hell, there’s no way you can make that! This could take hours, you’re losing way too much blood.” Your eyes were fixed to mine, almost as if you were afraid to look elsewhere. That unnerved me more than anything.

I reached with my good arm, feeling the wound at my shoulder. A large, thin sheet of metal stuck out of the shoulder cavity, right where I would put the butt of my rifle. I touched it softly, then gasped in pain as it moved, only to have that flexing in my chest disturb the wound more.

“Don’t move!” you scolded, obviously still trying to make a decision.

“John, we can’t abandon the mission. There’s too much riding on us. Forget about this, I’ll be okay. For now, we need to make sure that all this effort isn’t wasted. You hear me, John? We need to make sure it isn’t wasted!”

You nodded abruptly, curtly, as if you couldn’t deal with more. You reached into a pack that had been thrown across the floor in the blast, pulling out some forceps and a strip of gauze.

After my wound was dressed, you helped me struggle to my feet. I swayed slightly, the loss of blood effecting my balance. I steadied myself on the wall, and then swore silently. “John, that’s him! There!” I gestured weakly with my hurt arm.

You lifted the rifle to your shoulder, staring intently down the scope. A small man, dressed in an over-the-top military uniform, medals seeming to hang from every strip of cloth on him, walking swiftly down a hallway in a building several blocks away. “Confirmed target, proceeding,” you said, which I repeated into our battered radio.

I barely heard the sound of the gunshot, drowned out by the constant artillery. The man slumped to the floor, a large red stain appearing on the wall beside him. “Confirmed kill,” you said with finality. I raised the radio to repeat the message when a the bell tower was hit again.

Both of us were thrown to the ground, and I felt a large crack on the back of my head. I reached back and touched the base of my skull, feeling the sticky blood. I looked over to you, my eyes unfocused and bleary. “John?” I whispered, my breath ragged, as my eyes sank closed into darkness.

Have you ever had a dream within a dream? I suddenly found myself floating, deep in an empty nothingness. It has that indescribable quality that dreams so often do. I was hovering in this calm gray that seemed endless. I could see nothing to break the monotony of my surroundings, yet I didn’t mind much. I was strangely at comfort in this place, and I closed my eyes blissfully. I felt a tug deep in the core of my body, and knew instantly without even opening my eyes that I was moving forward, as if called by an unseen source. “Little brother,” a shadowy voice rumbled, that I could only vaguely recognize as yours. “Little brother, you will come here soon, so very soon. But it is not quite your time to stay. You must know what your wife will feel. She would be lost, alone in the world, should you stay in this place.”

“John?” I answered groggily. “She can’t stay here too?”

The thing pulling me continued, and I suddenly realized that it was taking me away from this calm place. “No, little brother. It is not time for her. You must go back, and give it to me.”

“Give what to you?” I questioned, now straining to see where you were in the midst of the gray. “John? Give what to you?” I repeated, an answer never coming.

Slowly I wakened from the dream within a dream, and my eyes fluttered open to see you staring down at me. “Are you okay?” you asked, the worry abundant in your voice.

“No,” I whispered, the blood thick in my throat, bubbling out of my mouth in a coughing fit. My fingers pulled their way up my chest, pulling one of my breast pockets open, tearing off the button. I pulled a carefully folded piece of paper from the pocket, stuffing it into your hand. “Give this to Elise, John. Promise me.”

“Christ, man … you’re going to make it. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think so, John.” I closed my eyes, my breath growing faint in my chest. “Tell Elise I love her, man.”

It was then that I woke up in the dead of night. I knew I was home only by the sigh of Elise at my side. It is truly a strange dream, is it not, John? I still can’t believe that our dreams were so similar. It is truly unfortunate that you woke up in the middle of yours. I wish to know how yours would have ended. Please do fill me in if you have the dream again.

Do you think it means anything? I have had some trouble over this. It is one of the most intense, realistic dreams I’ve ever had in my life. I wonder where we were. I could only assume it would be Germany, and if they continue the way they have, it is possible that we would wind up there.

It is good to hear from you, John. Please write soon; I anxiously await news from your end!

Your Little Brother

Please keep in mind it is only a rough draft. I imagine that I will post an updated, cleaned-up version sometime. Let me know what you think. Criticisms welcome.

Mood: Excited

So I haven't updated the blog in two weeks after I said I would start.

I've moved into the new apartment. I've been sleeping on a cot. It's wonderful. But I actually got some furniture this weekend. I currently have a desk in my study, a recliner, tv, bookshelf, and coffee table in the living room, and a dresser and nightstand in my bedroom. It's awesome. I feel like I actually live here!

While I was home for Angela's graduation (Congratulations to her) I met with a corgi breeder. I picked out a dog I liked, and I'm going to purchase him soon. She promised me she would hold him for me, so that's pretty cool. I took some pictures of him, so I'll post them here once I get them on my computer and online.

I'm a bit hungry. I really feel like I should try cooking here at my apartment more often, so that I can save a bit of money, and so I can actually learn some "life skills."

Also, I was hired at the MSC Bookstore. I'm going through training tomorrow, and start working on Thursday. It should be interesting ... I'm still trying to figure out if I'm excited or dreading it. I'm not really sure.

Short entry, because I'm trying to get stuff done around the apartment. Also, I don't have a quote to end today, so ... too bad!

Mood: Slightly stressed?

Here it is, two years later. I have moved on from Xanga (that only lasted nine months). I've been wanting a blog back for a while now, but haven't ever really had the time to go about starting things up again. Hopefully now that school is out (for a couple weeks, at least) I will have time to try to get into some kind of "groove" with the whole blogging thing.

My Creative Writing teacher once said that the best thing to do if you want to write is to write every day. I want to write. I'll try to write every day.

I actually have a quote that goes along with that, but, alas, I cannot find my quotations dictionary. Perhaps I need to get a new one soon. I always did love quotes.

I'm going to be leaving the old posts up here. They're kind of ... from a darker period of my life, I suppose. As weird as it is to think of me having a darker period. Suffice it to say, I'm rather embarassed about them now, but at the same time, I believe it's important for me to keep them, in an effort to remember who I am and where I have been. It might not be the best thing for all my new friends (who can potentially find out about this blog) to read those old ideas of mine ... but perhaps it'll give them some clarity into my life. Either way, they are there. Not necessarily for the readers, but for me. I'm ashamed, but I also feel it is important to keep them.

I am packing up stuff to move into a new apartment. I'm moving into a new place, all by myself. I've never lived alone before. It's going to be interesting. I hope I don't get lonely. That is something I'm ... very concerned about. As it is, I hardly ever see my roommates, but that's partly because I'm hardly ever in my apartment. It's too messy. But if I get a new place, perhaps I'll stay there more (because, in theory, it'll be a thousand times cleaner). But if I'm in my new apartment more, with no one else there ... I'm afraid that I'll wither without human contact. (I like the word "wither." The sounds are cool. Almost like "cellar door.") That is part of the reason why I'm looking into purchasing a dog.

I like dogs. I like them very much. They are kind, always happy to see you, the most cheerful animals I have ever met. Man's best friend. Did you know that people who own dogs are less likely to die of stress-related factors than people who don't own dogs? Also, the people who own dogs report lower levels of stress in their life. And college students (like myself) are theoretically at the most stressful period in their life. Many studies have shown that people consider college to be the most stressful time in their life. So I think it's a good idea for all college students (or almost all) to be issued a dog with their acceptance letter.

Welsh Corgis are the best. I'm looking into getting one of those. It's been stressful just trying to find one. (Ironic. Just the paragraph above I talked about how dogs are supposed to LOWER the stress.) For those of you who don't know what a Corgi looks like ... http://www.houstonpembrokes.org/images/flowers_ind.jpg ... Everyone, please keep your fingers crossed, I want to try to get the dog in about a month's time. This would allow me a few months to train and socialize the dog before school start's up in August, and I might have to cut back on the amount of time spent with the dog.

I need to go. Tara just got off work, so we must try to do some packing before we get dinner.


"I hate kids and pets! They're all a royal pain in the butt!" - Spike Spiegal, Cowboy Bebop

I HAVE MADE THE MOVE TO XANGA. I'M SORRY TO DO IT, BUT MOST OF MY FRIENDS USE IT.

Blogger.com, I will miss you. You're better than Xanga, and you know it. I'm sorry I had to change, but it's just the best way to keep in contact with my friends. I feel bad about abandoning you ... I'll always remember you, Blogspot! You always will be my favorite.

Get me at www.xanga.com/kohakaisha ... it'll be cool. The exact same posting format as my blog here, just with a different template. And, of course, people who actually read/comment on it.

Mood: Busy busy and yet not

I'm run ragged in my doing nothing. Yeah, strange juxtaposition of paradoxes and such. Wee!

I am pledging Delta Sigma Phi, a social fraternity. There are thirteen members of the fraternity here at Texas A&M. They are good people. I wish I had known about them last semester. That would have made this semester a lot easier.

Actually, it might have changed this semester a -lot-.

But I didn't, so I didn't, and now this is how things are.

I have been in the mood lately to write a lot, but I haven't had much to write about. I'm just now finding my wings, I suppose. My plot that I want. I'm fleshing some stuff out. You nonexistant readers don't care, but that's probably why I love you. You're so impartial.

I'm learning to play guitar soon. My mom picked up the model I wanted back in McKinney, so I'll get it for Spring Break, which is next week. I'll be jamming like hell, man. It'll be good. I think I will really devote myself to it. I need something artistic and moody to express myself, and I think that between writing and guitar, I'll really cover that nicely.

My friend Caleb says that blogs are for people with no existance to give meaning to themselves in front of millions of people. I laugh and say that my life may have no meaning, but I definitely don't care whether or not my millions of nonexistant readers have any concerns over my life whatsoever. Blogs are in the millions. Mine is simply one of the huddled masses. Hidden, like a small little gem, a tiny diamond in the rough. Good luck finding me.

"Penguins have an organ above their eyes that converts seawater into freshwater." - Dean Venture ~ Venture Bros.

Mood: Tired

I'm tired of lots of things. Tired of school, tired of exams, tired of being tired ... but mostly I'm tired of friends who suck. I've learned a lot these past couple of months, and mostly what I've learned is that friends who suck are no good to be my friend. I am a good person, and I don't want to associate with people who are not good people.

It sullies my good name.

I've learned that females are utterly retarded when it comes to anything involved feelings and men. And it's all females, not just one in particular.

I've learned to cut strings when they drag me down. I've been forced to cut some of them. It hurts to do it, but you can't let them take you down with them.

I've learned that humans have a lot of potential. God created us in his image; we are his finest creations. We have so much more potential then we could ever begin to comprehend.

I've learned that humans will never reach a fraction of their potential. Humans are afraid of what it means to be good. Humanity as a whole will never reach their peak. Humans are afraid of their own potential.

I've learned that some individuals will reach their peak; their pinnacle of self. These people are few and far between.

I've learned that, to reach this peak, you need to know yourself.

I've learned that most people think they do know themselves, but they actually do not.

I've learned that people can be hateful and horrible, and have no idea they are doing it. And when it's pointed out to them, it makes it worse.

I've learned that people don't like to be wrong, even when it is clear they are. They hide their wrongs, burying them, hiding them from sight so no one will ever see them. And when they are spotted, they deny it.

I've learned that when people screw with your collegiate career for no good reason, it's time to let them go.

I've learned that I am much stronger than I ever thought possible. That makes me afraid, because I fear being too strong ... and being alone.

I've learned that I am alone, and that I am supposed to be alone. I always have been alone, I am currently alone, and I always will be alone. That makes me sad, but it is better to know the truth than to live in ignorance.

I just wanted to update because ... by golly, it's been a while since I've updated. There ya go. I'm so cool. Alone, but cool. And learning a lot.

Goodbye to you, my sole reader. I'll miss you, but there are many reasons why I must cut you loose.

"Swing and a miss." - Brian ~ Family Guy

Mood: Morose

I'm tired.

I have insomnia now. I can never sleep. I have an eating disorder. The second food touches my tongue, I have a gag reflex; I want to throw up. My body aches in so much pain; from malnutrition and lack of sleep.

I'm at 105 lbs. now. Yes, losing even more weight. Good news, good news. I calculated my body fat percentage. I'm at 4.22% body fat, and you require 4% body fat to live. Good thing I have extra, huh? I'm actually thinking I can push it down below 100 lbs. I'm kind of tempted to do it just to say I did. Of course, that would put me over forty pounds underneath the recommended healthy body weight for someone of my size. Look at the skinny freak! You can see his bones! He's like a freaking skeleton!!

Cool, huh?

I'm kind of interested in seeing how well my blood clots. That sounds morbid, huh? Not meaning to be, though. It's just last semester I was eating real bad and when I got a paper cut, I didn't stop bleeding for a couple hours. I wonder if I'm doing any better so far this semester. I hope so. But I doubt it.

Just so everyone out there who reads this (which is no one-- my only reader left me), I'm going to try to -not- mention her anymore. I'm trying really hard to force her out of my thoughts. It's not working so well, but I'm trying. I don't ever want to think of her again. Each time I do, I get so angry. I was falsely accused of many crimes that I never committed. And my accuser? A betraying lying person who is picking fights and hiding things from me. Oh yes ... gotta love that. Then she sics her boyfriend on me because I was worried about her. I'm not allowed to speak to our mutual friends anymore. I'm not allowed to -breathe- anymore. If I do anything, I get flooded with messages saying "your a jerk a huge jerk" ... really mature for a noble Christian boy, hm? Especially since I was the polite one who never did any name calling or lied ot anyone.

Yes, I obviously am a jerk.

I'm applying to colleges to transfer ... three different colleges, yay. I should be able to get into them. I just need to find out when applications are do, and then submit. They don't require -too- high of a GPA, so I should be able to pull through with a bit of work.

Of course, the two Ds I got last semester won't transfer. But on the bright side, if they don't transfer, they don't affect my GPA. Which is great! Because then I don't have any freshman screw-up grades that keep me down. So I guess there's good and bad. Yes, I would have to take another science and another math course. But hoepfully I have learned my lesson and would be better at them the second time around.

On the other hand, if I get into all three schools, I'll have to figure out which one I want to go to. They all seem pretty good. So then, which should I choose? It's all very muddy. I'll do more research after I submit my applications. Yay yay.

"I do not like being a cat in this hat!" - Starfire ~ Teen Titans

Mood: Life is Worthless

I think the mood sums it up best. I am so tired of being alive. I wish I could hurry up and die. I've been waiting for it for a while now. It's about time it comes around. I welcome it with open arms.

Evidently, I am all things evil. At least, that's what the love of my life says.

It sucks to be in love with someone who hates you.

I went to Silver Taps tonight. It's like a funeral service that pays homage to all the students who have died in the past month. One of them was a girl ... a freshman psychology major. She was so much like me; same age, same interests, same goals. Why did she have to die? She had hopes and dreams, the love and care of others, she had family and friends, desires and potential.

I keep thinking to myself "God, why did she have to die? If you asked me, I would have been happy to take her place. I would have willingly died in her place, letting her live her life, love her life. I am not needed her anymore ... I am already dead; my body is just lagging behind. She had everything to lose and didn't deserve to lose it. I have nothing to lose and every reason to lose it. God, why wouldn't you take me instead of her?"

What -is- the reason, God? Why would you punish her when I deserve the punishment so much more? Why did you take the person who had every reason to be happy, when there is a perfectly miserable person who could have taken her place?

I don't understand. I'll never understand.

I wish I wasn't weak. I wish I had the strength necessary to do what I want to do. I wish I had the courage to end it ... and end it myself. I wish I had the courage to end my life. But I'm afraid of the pain. So very afraid of the pain ... ... I crave the relief, but cower from the pain.

I hate being weak.

"Swing and a miss!" - Brian ~ Family Guy

Mood: Reflection, as a Mirror

Today is a lot of sitting. And reading.

I've been reading for twelve hours straight now. Stupid History. I should have made more headway last weekend, but I spent too much time screwing around. Oh well, that's what I do, isn't it?

I realize that life is rather tragic. My friend Chris used to accuse me of being almost paranoid, that some malignant thing was out to get me. I don't think something is out to get me at all; quite the opposite in fact. I simply think that no one cares. Or, if they do care, they don't care enough to be active. It's a very laissez-faire type of situation people have with me.

Am I expected to fix everyone else's problems and have no help on my own?

Probably.

I think I'm an insomniac. It takes me forever to go to sleep. But, again, that's just what happens to me. In the past couple of weeks, I have not been able to go to sleep in under an hour after going to bed. I figure there is something I should do about this, but I'm not sure what there really is I -can- do. I don't want to start chugging Nyquil before bed or anything. I'm sure no good would come of that. So I just go about this problem the same way I go about all my other problems: I suffer through and onwards. Eventually the problem will be worked out, and I shall struggle through to that end, and in time, hopefully all will be well.

"Click click bloody click pancakes!" - Stewart Griffin ~ Family Guy

Mood: I am One Acquainted With the Night

I feel a little guilty about not updating recently. I haven't had time ... and when I did have time, I just ... didn't feel up to it. I feel tired and ... thoughtful, but not necessarily in a positive way.

I think that I'm supposed to have several major revelations right now in my life. I mean ... shouldn't I learn a lot from what I'm going through?

People keep telling me that I learned how to love, but I didn't. I already knew. It's not complicated, it's not hard, it's not difficult. It comes naturally. Love is natural to the human heart. Acting on love is natural to the human heart. Humans don't need to learn how to love. They simply do it.

So then, if I don't learn to love, what do I learn?

I learn loneliness. I have always been a lone individual. I am ... not a "group" person. I was lonely all my life, until I met her. She soothed me, calmed my spirit, and I was, for the first time in my life, not alone. I had a partner and companion who I could share all my life with, even before we started going out. And now, I am alone again. What have I learned, then? I have learned that I am a lone individual. I always have been ... and I always will be. This is, perhaps, partly my own doing. But it is also my fate. I am to be alone ... and I am to come to grips with this fact.

I also learned that humans are not perfect. I've always been a bit of a humanist. Humans can rise above any challenge if they try hard enough. Humans have the potential to be perfect: we were created in God's image, we were of God, and we were perfect. We still keep the potential for that perfection inside us, but we have fallen. We are afraid to reach that perfection, and we never will. What good then is the potential? I'm not sure. We squander our potential for greatness because we're afraid of what it means. Humans are not perfect.

What is my role in life? It's simple if you look at my history. Always, I am alone. But my friends come to me any time they have a problem. "Andrew! Andrew! What should I do? I can't understand how I will ever get out of this!" I look at the problem, study it carefully for a moment, and then give them my advice. They laugh at me, ignore me, tell me that is a silly solution. I tell them what will happen if they ignore my advice, but they refuse to listen. Three months later, my prophecy comes to pass. My friends are confused, silent. They realize that they should have listened to me, but now it is too late. Perhaps they should listen to my advice the next time.

But the world repeats itself. They never learn to listen to me, and I never learn to expect them not to listen to me. Well, I have finally learned this, my third lesson. My advice is almost always correct, but it is also rarely acted upon.

I am alone, I am good at predicting what will come to pass, and I am reminded constantly of the flaws in humanity. Has anyone out there read the play entitled "Oedipus Rex" by Sophocles? A character in that play reminds me of myself ... no, not the title character; that's just disturbing. I am a modern-day Teiresias. He is a blind prophet who is constantly predicting things that have yet to happen. The other characters in the play are constantly degrading him, berating him. They ask him for his visions, and then mock him when he gives them his ominous warnings. He's blind, but all-seeing. He is alone, always alone, self-isolated and publicly-isolated.

I am Teiresias.

That ... is all.

"You're just jealous because I sound like a rock star." - Beast Boy ~ Teen Titans

Mood: Tired and Hoping for Better

I'm back in College Station. However, nothing has happened to me yet. Oh well. I'll blog more on it later ... but for now, I will post an essay I wrote last year. It pertains well to this time of year, and I am rather proud of it, so here goes nothing.

------- Meaningless Holidays -------

It’s that time of year again. You know what time I’m talking about. The time of fake holidays and seemingly random dates that the postman doesn’t visit your humble abode.

I speak of course of the long-lasting Martin Luther King Day and the ambiguous President’s Day which is thoughtfully squeezed between the birthdays of two highly-acclaimed presidents whose names I seem to have forgotten.

Not that I am claiming that good ole MLK shouldn’t have his own day. I’m just impressed that he got one so quickly. After all, it –has- been less than 50 years since he did his famous campaign for equal rights and desegregation. Even Christopher Columbus, who discovered the free world (or so I am told), had to wait nearly 400 years. It seems that the federal government has used its two hundred years of practice to greatly improve the speed of one thing: giving itself days off.

But at least King’s day is reasonable. President’s Day is rather trivial (read: worthless) for numerous reasons, the primary one being that most Americans either haven’t heard of it or don’t know when it is. To confirm my hypothesis, I conducted a thorough investigation of the American public, by which I mean I asked my friends at lunch. Two of them were reasonably sure they had heard of it, but could not give a general idea as to when it was. When pressed, one responded “It’s meaningless.”

Meaningless? Why, President’s Day was set aside to honor the leader of the Free World. A day of national treasury rolls around ever February … whateverth. Hey, don’t look at me like that. At least I knew what month it was in.

Regardless, I continued my exhausting research by asking Google to give me a little background on President’s Day. Google was nice enough to give me dozens of pages, but none actually held any true information. Most simply said that it fell between Washington’s and Lincoln’s birthdays (so that’s who it was!). One actually told me that it was instituted in 1971 by Ronald Reagan (that would be 106 years after Lincoln and 190 after Washington for those who are counting). Apparently, Ronnie decided two political holidays in one month was too many. I personally think he just couldn’t remember who it was either.

The website goes on to say that President’s Day was widely accepted as a state holiday before it was federally recognized (sorry Mrs. Presley). Personally, I am now anxiously awaiting Governor’s Day in the hopes that, for at least one more day a year, I won’t get mail delivered to my house. Of course, it has only been 158 years since Texas was admitted to the Union, so we might have to wait a while.

And then, I was shocked to find out that President’s Day occurs every third Monday of February, falling this year on the 17^th, a mere three days after Valentine’s. There was only one thing which would surprise me more: if Martin Luther King knew when President’s Day was. Unfortunately, MLK isn’t in my lunch.

Through all this research, I have felt myself inspired to create my own holiday. I think it will be called Andrew Barton Day. There won’t be any fireworks or presents (unless you feel like giving some to the person it’s named after), but you do get the bonus of not going to math class. However, it might be a little while before it’s nationally accepted. I’ve only been alive 18 years.

"For every sprinkle I find, I shall kill you!" - Stewart Griffin ~ Family Guy

Mood: Irate

I am unhappy. I have been made unhappy by a person who was constantly being mean to me, despite my attempts to remain congenial to them. I am surprised by this person, because this person is actually very nice. This person had no reason to be mean to me, as far as I know, but decided to be mean anyway. Why do people do this? I'm not sure.

One thing I hate about girls. They always want to talk about -your- feelings, but never their's. Why is that? Is there something innately wrong with the feelings of men, but the feelings of girls are so far above reproach that their feelings shouldn't even be mentioned? Why is it that their feelings are not allowed to be talked about? If women are equal to men, then that means their virtues are similar to ours ... and their vices are as well. Just because I have some extra testosterone doesn't mean that my feelings are more wrong.

But then, when a man openly explains his feelings, the woman doesn't want to hear it. They only want to talk about -our- feelings when -they- start it. There can be no variation. Never their feelings, and never when we start it. What ever happened to relationships being mutual?

Is it so wrong to inquire about the person your former girlfriend left you for? I have heard very little about him, and I was curious. So naturally, I asked Amber about him. She jumped up and down me, as if I was asking her to murder a person and then eat his entrails. Eventually, like I was pulling teeth, I finally got some information out of her. He's tall, he has blue-green eyes, and she guesses he has brown hair. He's nice, and everyone there likes him. He's good at video games, and lives in a dorm room by himself. She doesn't know much more about him than that.

Great. So she left me for someone she doesn't even know. -Great-.

So I get in trouble for rationalizing things. Rationalizing things! Sometimes, the human body needs to be irrational. Sometimes, humans cannot think before they do things. But sometimes, humans need to think and think and think before they do something. The human existance is about balancing rationalization and irrationalization. Why, then, should I be in trouble for rationalizing? At worst, I should be told that this is not something that can be rationalized. I shouldn't be yelled at, reprimanded, and berated.

She forgets who I am, and who I am to her. She renounces all the times we had together, and she renounces all that we were, are, could be, and will be. She is unnecessarily cruel, unnecessarily mean, and largely irrational. She accuses me of doing something wrong, then does it herself.

But I'm the badguy.

"Robin, you are my best friend. I do not wish to live in a world where we must fight. Do as you must." - Starfire ~ Teen Titans

Mood: A bit more lighthearted, one should suppose

Well, I think I'm updating this more frequently. Go me!!

So anyway ... I've done a lot of talking recently. A lot. You know, complaining, thinking, and generally getting the opinions of most anyone I can randomly waylay on the street. It's a good thing. No, really, it is. It's helped me get a lot of perspective on things that I was unable to get perspective on all by myself.

Also, a lot of music. Yes, listening to tons of music. Woo yeah! Mu-zac. Mark Twain once said that music can heal the soul ... and I agree with him. Music, with me, has an uncanny ability to connect with me on a deep level, providing insight into my problems and reassuring me that better things will come.

I look forward to going back to school. I'll be leaving for it in only a few days ... thank ye God. Once I get there, my life can move on. I'm being held in stasis now; all I can do to further myself is to think. When I get there, I can be actively progressing rather than passively progressing. I can get my hands dirty, truly working on becoming the better person I know I can be. I know I -will- be.

Until that day comes ... I have retrospection.

"I'm having one of those things! You know, a headache with pictures!" - Fry ~ Futurama

Mood: More than slightly bored

You know, it's funny. I seem to be blogging more when there is NOTHING to say. You'd think I'd blog more when I do have stuff to say.

But that's life. Stupid and inane and crazy and doesn't make sense one bit.

Mostly what I've been doing is sitting around thinking. Still. I think that I came to some excellent conclusions last time I blogged, and it will be helpful for me to remember those for the rest of my life ... whatever that may be.

A couple of my friends are quite mad at me for saying that I will be alone all my life. Well, I don't mean all. I just don't think I will be dating much at all in my lifetime, and I definitely won't get married. But really, that's just how I've really felt all my life. I'm no good around girls when it comes to that sense, and I know that I'm not what girls really look for. It's something I came to grips with long ago.

But I have been given a lot of time to be retrospective on what has happened to me in the past month and the past fifteen months. For that, I am thankful. I've learned my lesson about life and about love. I thank Amber for that, and I thank God for that.

I am also thankful that my good friend Allison has recently had a lot of stress relieved from her. She had boyfriend problems (as does my friend Olga, actually ... what a strange coincidence!), but recently her boyfriend apologized for causing poor Allison all her problems. He didn't realize what he was doing, evidently. So now they've all made up and everything is okay. Yay!

As for Olga's problems ... that's slightly different. She can't choose which boy she wants! Aah, I wish I had several hot people clamoring for my sexy bod. Of course, everyone wants that, right? Right. But, naturally, no one can help her decide who to take, really. I know I can't, since she hasn't said anything bad about either one of them, and I haven't met them to get a personal evaluation of them.

I found out I have a C average in college. God, what a loser I am. I really need to do better this next semester. But, of course, I have Chemistry. I'm 99% sure I'm going to fail out of that class, which means I really need to do well in ALL my other classes to even have a chance. Regardless, things are looking very bad for me.

Which is why it would do me good to transfer to a different school in the fall. I'm looking at various schools around the country. Not sure if I've said that here or not. I really need to research them so that I know an excellent place to go where I will really enjoy my life and I can do the best I can do and be all that I can be. If anyone has any suggestions, I would gladly take them.

NOTE: I don't actually expect anyone to send anything to me. =p So if you do, I would be highly amused and tickled.

Life, then, is a strange thing. Love and hate, care and careless, happiness and pain. How can we expect to balance all this? How can we make things better in life? How can we do what we must do or what we must not do? There are no answers for these questions. We can never understand why the world works the way it does. But hopefully, like "The Five People You Meet in Heaven" says, we will understand once we are dead. After we no longer have this life, we can understand how our life looks, in all it's strange intricacies.

In the end, I hope we can understand.

"Robin, who is this girl and why does she call you 'poo'? - Starfire ~ Teen Titans

Mood: Resigned and alone

For the past couple of days, I've had nothing to do but think. Think and read. All my friends have departed for the schools, busily resuming their happy lives among the flowers. I, however, am not able to. I am stuck in McKinney for a week still; alone with myself and my thoughts.

In turn, I buried myself in books. I read "Twelve Ordinary Men" by John MacArthur. It details the lives and personalities of the original twelve apostles. The twelve who worked alongside Jesus. Normal, everyday men from normal, everyday lives. They were us, and are us. These twelve exemplify the human spirit.

Afterwards, I turned to a book entitled "The Five People You Meet in Heaven," which was written by Mitch Albom. Mr. Albom described the experience of an elderly man after he reached Heaven. His life was explained to him by five people, making all the little pieces and intricacies of his life fit into place, like a complex jigsaw puzzle of fate.

A few days ago, I realized that there was a lesson that was in my life. A lesson in the recent termination of my relationship with Amber. I knew that there was something I was supposed to learn. Something that would change my life forever. But I couldn't put my finger on it. The closest I could come up with was "Girls suck." For some reason, I don't think God was trying to tell me that girls suck.

"The Five People You Meet in Heaven" reaffirmed this idea to me. It told me again that I am supposed to learn something from this ... situation. It told me again that I needed to open my eyes and look at the bigger picture of my life. I am convinced that, if Mr. Albom is right and we do meet five people who explain our lives to us, then Amber would be one of my people, explaining this point in my life.

But then, suddenly, it hit me. I remembered telling people that I was always fairly convinced I would be alone for all my life. But I want to be a psychologist. How can a psychologist, who has never felt love, who has never had a horrible ... break-up ... who has never loved and lost ... how can a psychologist help people who have those problems?

The answer is simple: he can't.

God has shown me what it's like. God has shown me what others go through so very often. I am to remain alone, but without the experience of others, I would be horrible at my chosen profession. God is attempting to help me by showing these emotions to me. I had never realized just how badly it hurts. I will never be so careless again as to give advice over things that I don't properly comprehend.

Please, God ... my lesson is learned. Now make the pain stop ...

"Someone's claws are on my grebnacks." - Starfire ~ Teen Titans

Mood: Like a sinking ship

I have come to realize something recently. Life is indeed ruled by a force of absolute balance: a ying yang. An alchemy. Everything has an equal and opposite price. Like Chemistry, all actions have an equal and opposite reaction.

In short, all that is good has an equal amount of bad in payment. And all bad has an equal amount of good to relieve it. In the fifteen months, I have had the most intense fun in my life. I enjoyed it immensely.

Actually, I enjoyed it too much. I thought that the previous 18 years were the bad part, the black half of the ying yang. But I crammed too much fun and enjoyment in those fifteen months, and now I find that I did not pay my debt in advance. Once again, I must go through the pain, the dark, the shadowy parts of life.

In the end, all things balance out. I surpassed my balance of life, and I find that, once again, I need to suffer to achieve equilibrium.

"People cannot gain anything without sacrificing something." - Alphonse Elric ~ Full Metal Alchemist

Mood: Slightly more relaxed

Well, it's been a while. I'm still sort of ... in chaos. But I have a better grip on things now. I think.

Anyway, I am lonely. Of course, Amber isn't talking to me near as much as she used to. But that's to be expected. Also, all of my friends are gone. Off to college again! While I sit around the house reading books and wondering what I'm going to do about my Chemistry class. Really, all that I can do is sit and think. No interaction with other souls at all.

Of course, one thing that I really think would help me out would be a counting of the blessings I do have. Thus, I am counting.

1.) My health
2.) Friends who help me despite being 1000 miles away
3.) Family who gives me support
4.) A room I can call my own
5.) My mind (it's a terrible thing to waste)
6.) Appreciation for a good joke
7.) Enough monetary support to get through school
8.) A church I am welcomed at
9.) Time to think back
10.) Courage to move onwards

I think 10 is enough, don't you? Either way, that's all I'm doing. I might write down more later, if I find it is necessary.

"Spare me your space-age techno-babble, Attila the Hun." - Zap Brannigan ~ Futurama

Mood: Tired of life

It's been a really really stressful December for me. I'm glad I have it behind me. Hopefully my life will fall back together. I just need some help in a few key places. But, alas, I'll probably have to help myself.

God helps those who help themselves. God, help me, as I am trying my hardest to help myself.

It's New Years. You know what that means! More meaningless, pointless resolutions that we attempt to hold all year long despite the fact that we're bound to forget them by the first of February, if not MLK Day.

And so I shall put forth my list:

1.) Do my best on all I do
2.) Do work assigned to me, without forgetting any
3.) Do not give up on Chemistry, even if it feels hopeless
4.) Decide once and for all whether or not A&M is the school for me
5.) Make friends at A&M
6.) Move on
7.) Meet some long-term goals about my education
8.) Learn to soldier on

I realize that most of these involve school. Of course, that's not all that's really happening to me at the moment, and not all that I can improve about myself. But it is really important for me to get my studies under my belt. When I was on the plane, coming back from Connecticut (I went there for Christmas), the person next to me told me that the most important thing in a college student's life, especially an underclassman's life, was to "get all your ducks in a row." He repeated that phrase several times. Only once I have the basics complete, the foundation finished, can the structure of my life truly rise.

Wish me luck. It will be a long and lonely journey.

"Everyone loves a good game of stankball." - Cyborn ~ Teen Titans