XD The first time I took the quiz I got Blissey, which is basically the polar opposite of my personality. This is a bit closer to home.





Wewt, edit of procrastination!

An alternate title for this article would be: "What I've been doing when I should've been doing homework!"

Yay! I'm Psychologically Unstable!

I took the thingy again, and It gave me a different result >.>'

I got another cat though. Strange. I never thought of myself as a cat person.

It is a madness that convinces me to write these words, a madness that slowly consumes me. I was-- I am-- a simple man. Simplicity at its very finest. You see? Maybe that was the problem. Hahah! No, that cannot be it. Oh so simple. And yet I cannot see it? It must be invisible. Oh, but look, I digress, I am a simple man. A simple man with simple needs.
I count food and air amongst these needs, but never have I once counted others amongst them. Others? Good heavens, no. I dislike all others. I find them untrustworthy. I find myself untrustworthy for that matter. Who’s to say that I won’t betray myself? If I cannot be so entrusted, then others can be trusted even less so. Not that the others matter. I haven’t seen an other in weeks. Days, even!
I don’t seem coherent, I think. That is the madness. The madness nags at me like the others used to. It tells me that I must do things, like they once did. Perhaps it is because the others are no longer there that the madness has come? Perhaps, seeing me alone and lonely (for not long are the two ever separate) the madness took pity on me and sought to provide company for me? That must be it, but then the madness must be told; I am the reason the others went away. They were sent by my own hand. I wanted to be alone. Was I lonely? Perhaps. But it was the sweetest, most fulfilling loneliness I have ever known.
There was nothing. But it was in this nothing that, for a short while at least, I found peace. There was no need for food, no need for water. Then, the pains came. And with the pains, the madness came also. That was when the nothing disappeared, of course. You cannot have pain in nothing. That was when I had to find food, water, had to move myself further away from the nothing in order to shelter from the pains. Oh, but I dreamed that I would return to the nothing I had found, the precious little patch of it. I spent days, simply thinking about nothing. I do not know how long it took for the madness to reach me, to work its way so deep into my heart and mind that it drives me, even now, to write these words, symbols that have no meaning to me. Me, I, he who has seen nothing. Has touched nothing… and in touching nothing, has felt nothing! Hah! I laughed so hard at this nothing, laughing at the many somethings that had kept from me this nothing. I, of course, heard nothing.
But the others, I hoped from the bottomless nothing of my heart that the others could hear this nothing and find it for themselves.
If that was loneliness, I hope to again find it someday. Now that I am again in the something, I have not felt loneliness again. Fear, yes. Cold, heat, even death I have felt. I had always thought that nothing was like death. Death was not like nothing. Where death was empty, nothing was full. Where death was cold, nothing was like fire in my veins. So I feared, I ran from death as I had been forced so reluctantly to run from nothing.
Now, I am here, writing about nothing. How silly I must sound, to whatever poor soul has picked up this scrap of nothing and begun to read it! They’ll probably discard it, thinking me mad. They’ll be incorrect of course. By the time they read this, there will be nothing left of me to be considered mad. I will have found my way back to the nothing, the warm nothing, the loving nothing, the freedom of nothing, by then.
To whoever reads this message for as long as it may have taken, I beseech you, please- spread the message of nothing. Assuredly, nothing is the grandest state of being that one can ever hope to achieve.



Author's note: This piece, though an accurate description of my feelings at the time of writing, is still fictitious in nature. I may end up putting it on dA if I feel like it. Like within 30 seconds of putting it up here. It's also (c) Alex Georges under a non-commercial share-and-share alike creative commons :D

P.S. I'm not a nihilist btw, I just think that nothing is a lot more important than most things. GTFO Chris Principe!

I am beginning my personal revolution against the other half-trillion or so people on Earth. Click above to donate weapons to a cause greater than yourself: The killing of people other than yourself!

All donations will be sent to a Save-the-wolves-by-killing-the-other-species Training camp, Where our future great leaders are currently being trained to lead in the annihilation of all non-canine/canid species. Furries are first on the hit list, followed by the Chinese!

Attack dogs welcome. Humans O.K.

SIGN UP NOWZ!!1!!!!ONE!!!

I had a REALLY weird dream this morning. This is particularly odd because I never have dreams, or at least never remember them.

It started when I was walking down the beach peacefully, then suddenly a Giant SUV appeared upside down over my head, hovering there. I reached up to touch the suv, but when I touched it, my hand became stuck to it and I was slowly pulled inside. After I was already inside, the SUV flipped rightside up and landed on the ground. It began driving down the beach. I was left, however, hovering upside down in the air in place of the SUV.

That was the first part of it. The second part of it involved my somehow leaving my upside down prison by projecting my mind onto an infant. Doing so made the infant's rate of physical growth accelerate. This was rather fortunate, because the house that the infant was in (which turned out to be my mom's house, somehow... it was a dream, you know.) was being broken in to by some crazy guy who looked a little like an old man from a Hayao Miyazaki film, with the apparent goal of killing my mother with poison. My little brother had died (I have no idea how, but I came across his dead body in the playroom the infant was in), and my mother seemed to want the man to come in. I picked up a hatchet and a large, double edged axe from the floor of the downstairs TV room and locked my mother in the bathroom by means of a chair, then went to combat this man. He was still trying to break into the house, first through the side door, which I was able to lock and keep him out. Then he broke through the window beside the side door, and I hacked and slashed in his general direction until he was forced to retreat into the garage. I locked the door, but he keep jiggling the lock on the other side and gradually loosening it. Eventually the lock broke, and I stabbed his hand with my axe when he tried to get through. He left the garage via the outside door, and came back in through the window.

My Mom was, as I recall, calling to him from inside the bathroom in which I had locked her. I waited around a corner in the main hallway for him to come back down it, and I heard a gunshot. I didn't figure out what the gunshot was from, however, because at that moment the crazy man came around the corner and I hit him with the blunt end of the hatchet, with a satisfying crunching-squish noise. I kept hitting him with the blunt sides of my axes until finally...

I woke up.

I imagine that is sort of what being on cocaine is like.

I recently read an article, on a cracked.com of all places, (and which I will not be linking to) that I feel was very true, very profound, and, for that site, very well written.

The title of the article was "7 Reasons the 21st Century is Making You Miserable."
I won't be reviewing it, and this isn't intended as a plug of any sort. I just liked the ideas that he put forth in the article. He (David Wong, the writer) talks about how non-verbal, internet based friendships and communication are making us miserable emo children in the long run; how several studies done by universities show that the lack of physical contact and the misinterpretation of words written, as opposed to words spoken, lead us into shallow friendships and make us socially inept.

As I was reading it, I kept thinking about how it applies to me and people I know. It's a sad, inconvenient truth.
He has a great example that I am going to shamelessly rip off: Take into consideration the condition of life. People today live in the best physical conditions (Food, conveniences of technology, extremely low natural death rate) ever experienced by the human race. And yet our depression and suicide rates, at least in the United States, are higher than they have ever been. Why? D. Wong says that it's because the media realizes that negative stories, stories of tragedy, sell more! People who are totally outraged at an event actually spread the news of that event around more than others.

Also, he makes a point about text messaging. 7% of the meaning conveyed in face to face speech is in the actual words. Did you know that? I knew it before, but it's hard to imagine how easy it really is to misconstrue words when you aren't there in person. Take Chat messaging, for example. Today, I was joking around with someone I know, saying her attention span is short. She thought I was intentionally insulting her, and promptly recruited a friend to start hate-spamming me in 2 separate windows. And of course, I was the one blamed for the entire mishap when I finally did manage to resolve it.
Mr. Wong's account is even more serious. If it is to be believed, he and his friend had a six month falling out over a misconstrued text message.

I have no moral to this story. I just felt like venting about it. Truth be told, my Dad has no conception of the word tone, and he enjoys acting like a jerk, but using words that aren't that bad if said differently. I take offense, and he's like "But all I said was blah blah blah", changing the tone to make the statement seem harmless. The times that I havepointed out his offensive tone, he has written it off as me being over sensitive and gotten my little brother (who is a stupid little yes-man to Dad because he can manipulate Dad in this way to get him whatever he wants)to second his claim. Having no one else to support my side, I am forced to physically remove myself from the situation before I remove my brother's head from his shoulders.

Case in point: No concept of tone. It's irritating. He doesn't listen to himself, or if he does, he only remembers the words themselves. Never how they were spoken.

Irony: The article talks about how people like to build themselves up, make a fake 'supersona' of themselves that they can never really support with RL, in blogs. I sincerely hope that I haven't done that, and that I never will.

Although I have written what has been referred to as 'emo poetry' by several people, and posted said poetry on my dA account, I will never - I repeat, NEVER - use a journal to put up poetry. Bad, unedited prose, maybe, but never poetry.

School is on. I got massive assignments dumped on me on the first day. Let's see... In History, I got 4 chapters of a non-fiction book to read/note on, plus 1 chapter of the actual textbook

Bio left me with 2 one page assignments, 2 chapters worth of 'vocab words' which must be defined, and a splitting headache from the speakers which I sit next to in her classroom.

English gave me 54 pages to read and take notes on, plus 8 critical reading questions on the first 20 pages.

My Math teacher forced us to print off the syllabus from his website at home before we bring it in, but has assigned no real work as of yet. Lucky me.

Finally, Japanese came in with a new sensei and absolutely nothing, in terms of HW. He's pretty cool though. I look forward to the rest of the year in that class.

I promised something deep an philosophical with each of my entries, and I realize that this is anything but either of those. The reasoning behind this post is that I'm trying to make my last post not appear at the top of the page when I open up my LJ.

Hrm. I am not one of them.
"Them?" you say, a confused look beginning to show on your face.
"Them." I respond resolutely, "The furries." A shiver runs down my spine and the room becomes ominously silent.
Suddenly a mechanical-sounding voice is heard, coming from everywhere and nowhere in the room, "Commander RedTailed, I know I am not supposed to interrupt, but my power reserves are running low. I recommend exiting narration mode immediately in order to conserve power for essential systems."
I lie back on the couch to stare at the ceiling before I voice my reply, "Duly noted. Computer, exit narration mode and activate emergency generators."
- - - - -
I read a few furry webcomics, sure. But, I read them because they have a good plot; quite frankly, any comic that has a good plot is worth reading. Comics that involve shapeshifters/shapeshifting in some form or other are really what interests me the most. That, coupled with a hearty distaste for the 'darker' aspects of the furry fandom (read: 'yiffy' and pretty much everything else involving furries except webcomics) make me utterly repulsed at even being considered a part of it. Do I appreciate their art? Yes I do, as evidenced by my favorites list on DA. Do I have anything against furries? No. In fact, I am much more afraid of falling off of a cliff (even a very low cliff, considering I have an irrational fear of heights) than turning into an anthropomorphic animal. Go figure.
Sorry furries. I know of far too many of you lurking within the darkened confines of LJ to go without making that whole mess perfectly clear.

It's 1:00 AM. Why am I on here, you might ask. I might ask the same question. It seems that I have lost my mind, and I'm staying up late searching for it.

In other news, I have 3 major things going on that I feel like demi-ranting about: Summer, Okami, and Writing.
2 or more of these things may or may not be directly related.

-Beginning from the beginning: Summer. It happened. Whoa. Now I have summer HW to do. It's like normal homework, but it's harder and there is significantly less of it. I have to read Strunk & White: Elements of Style, as well as 2 other books for AP Bio. Then I have to do an assignment on each of the Bio books, answer a few questions (Paragraph/ 'Short' Answers). The assignment must be hand written too, which I find to be rather unfortunate. I type at anywhere between 45-70 words per minute (temperature and sleep being major variables here), but I can only write at the less glorious speed of about 30 wpm. And that gives my hands a rather nasty cramp after about the first 30 lines. And the books have a total of 23 such questions between them. Not too bad, given that I have a whole summer, but I enjoy bitching whenever I have work to do. Something of a habitual thing for me.

-Next Topic: Okami, by the now-dead Clover Studios. First off, Okami (Actually Ookami; the title on the game has the "O" with a line over it) literally means 'wolf' in Japanese. The Kanji symbol for 'oo' literally means 'greater'. Kami means God. Their word for Wolf literally would translate to "Greater God" or "Above God" (not in the literal sense of the word above, but more like in terms of rank). It stems from their myth which states a white wolf, in the game known as either Shiranui or Amaterasu, is the mother of all creation.

My point, totally unrelated to any of that, is that this is one of, if not the greatest game ever created by man. I will fight you to the death with spinning blades of eternal torment to argue this point. It's like Twilight Princess, but you play as a wolf the entire time (one of my peeves with Zelda, which stems from a less-than-minor obsession with all things wolf and fox related). An entirely AWESOME wolf who just happens to be the incarnation of natural order and the mother of creation in Japanese Mythos. Imagine: Twilight Princess, but with more lovable characters who actually have an interesting story behind them, a style of art that is both beautiful and deeply moving, techniques that are based off of brush movements, and a storyline that would make most writers and readers weep with joy. So many twists, turns, and minigames and little side adventures that will keep you both frustrated and unable to stop playing. I was honestly on the verge of tears when I finished the game, because I realized: It's over. I can no longer suffer through the minigames, no longer hunt for those blasted little beads that I assume give me some sort of ultimate weapon if I find them all. No longer remain totally inept at the combat system's finer points.
And then, something I didn't expect happened: After the game finally ended, it went into the screen it usually does after each battle, where it rewards you. I was like: "What? There's more! Thank you God, you really do care about us down here!" and then it went through a few in game stats: Deaths, play time, and several others I cannot recall because its now 1:20 AM. There was another stat that was marked with a black and red Icon and a red question mark. I hope to find out what it is when I play through it again in the future.

I WILL play through it again. This is the first RPG that I have honestly ever felt compelled to do so with. It was just... so beautiful. I feel like I'm damaging the actual quality of the game by trying to describe it with words. Don't be mislead by the slow start. Any committed RPG player will be justly rewarded.

After the stat screen, it gave me rewards. Rewards like new character skins, as well as a few other things which I will not mention. And then it saved these skins and other items to a new game, which will begin the journey anew. This is definitely a bonus for a person such as myself who cannot wait until he can play through it again.

Last, but certainly not least, Writing. I actually am a sort of wannabe writer-poet. I need to be more creative in terms of plot lines, however, as my only really creative work, Russel's story, is turning into a crappy Transformation story (though, as far as transformation stories go, it's actually better than quite a few I've read recently.)
I have a whole issue to raise with the 'furry', 'otherkin' and 'therian' subcultures, but this rant has already become rather large because of the awesomest game ever.
For now I would like to clarify that I disassociate myself from all three of them, especially the first two.
With that, I leave you with a link to my DeviantArt

RedTailedDolphin on DeviantArt

In the beginning, there was merely blank space. And Alex (that's me) looked upon this space and said, "Let there be text here."
And the space responded to Alex's call, and said to him, "Lord, but what is to be used to fill up this space?"
And Alex responded, "Fill it with this conversation."
And it was good.
And so it was that this post came into being.

Switching Writing styles. . . .
Complete

And so it was that Noble Alex of Diego Embarked upon a most perilous quest to figure out how the hell to make LJ do what he wanted. His spirits were low; he had no idea how to make Html or any other script function as he wanted it too. He had only his daring wits and total recklessness to rely on.

He was doomed.

The fact that Summer was about to begin didn't help him, because final projects are a bitch. Someday, we may hear the rest of his tale, but not until has has destroyed the most fiendish of all beasts that roam the surface of this land: The Vicious Dragon known only as "Fi'nall Projk't"

Oh wait,



Daemon :P