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So, things that have been going on in my own life, as well as what I've been reading about my good buddy Gabrielhorse, got me to thinking about this generation. About life, and survival, and how little the word 'survival' actually applies to most people's lives.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I'm some broken and beaten martyr. I'm not going to pretend that I can understand even half of the fear, the uncertainty, or the worry that affects some people's lives. To be honest, I really haven't a clue. Neither do you, neither does anybody. The only thing anybody can really comprehend is themselves and their own experiences, anything else is an educated guess at best.

Living on the outskirts of society, you (I did, at least) begin to look at it from an outsider's point of view. While I'm struggling to get a hold of a job, which is looking more and more hopeless everyday, considering the very small city I live in, other people are living like kings for doing next to nothing. I look more at people my own age - it seems that everybody else my age in my town is fortunate enough to have a well off family.

For these families, I seem to have become a slave. I cut their grass, trim their hedges, fix their roofs and take care of their dogs while they're away. They look at me like I'm less than human, like I don't have a mind, or opinions of my own. They want me to do their work for them, take their pocket money and disappear until next week. Nobody talks to me, nobody asks me how my day has been, and this suits me just fine.

It suits me because it allows me greater understanding. I feel that by observing them, sitting inside in the air conditioning playing expensive video game consoles and hiding from the unbearable Southern heat, trying their hardest to ignore the fact that I am doing what they should be doing for them, I can sort of get to know them, in a sense. My mind isn't clouded by the way that they present themselves to people. I don't see their persona, I see them.

One of the families that I do yard work for, for example, presents themselves as upstanding, average-joe type people. I hear them on the phone, or talking to the mail man, or even to each other. Their kid, Micheal, who is a few years younger than me, buys all of his clothes from Hot Topic. He wears big biker boots, spikes up the back of his hair when he goes out, and always wears a Cannibal Corpse t-shirt, or some other band that I've never heard, nor can read their logo. He presents himself as a bad-ass. A rebel without a cause, a tortured soul out to take out his aggression on the rest of the world.

When he goes inside, he gives his mom a kiss and watches cartoons on TV. Sometimes when he has friends over I see him sneak outside with them to smoke cigarettes and feel hardcore. Never once have I seen him smoke on his own, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't even inhale the smoke when he's with friends.

The wife likes to let everybody know how fashionable she is. She wears designer clothes and always walks out in heels. I've seen her other side, though, in brief glances. I've seen her in her flannel robe drinking coffee in the morning, and without her make-up she looks her actual age. The lines on her face aren't hidden by cakes of makeup. Her hair is pulled into a lazy tail, which allows me to see her graying roots beneath the bleached-blonde exterior.

The father is honestly a bit of a mystery to me. He's the one who actually hands me money. I never see him at home, he shuts himself away inside all day, as far as I know. He doesn't seem to hide much from what I've seen. A balding man in his mid-forties, his drawl thick with southern twang. I think he's an honest man, but then again, I don't know if such a thing exists anymore.

I just don't understand why people act one way when others are around, but completely different when they're alone. Why do we chose to present this perfect version of ourselves, instead of who we really are? Why do we chose to buy expensive clothes to hide ourselves behind a label? You've got all these fashions, and everybody seems to pick one to fit into. Am I the only one left who could care less if people don't know I'm a goth, or a metalhead, or a football fan, or whatever face I decide to put on? We identify ourselves by others, and I find that intolerably pointless.

(I know I'm just sort of rambling, but bear with me. I tend to just type and then post whatever comes out)

I also can't comprehend why so many people seem to choose to live in angst or depression. I'm not going to say I've never been depressed or feeling down, God knows I have had my share of hard times and feelings. What gets me is that instead of going and actually doing something about their problems, people tend to just whine about them. I understand that it helps to vent, shit, that's what half of my Live Journal is, but I don't stop at venting, if anything venting and talking about one's problems should just be a quick fix to help you solve the trouble.

I had a friend who would constantly bitch about his troubles. Every day, it was something different. Maybe I'm strange, but when somebody tells me about their troubles, I interpret that as them asking for advice. So, I give advice, and I tell him what I would do in his situation. That never seemed to make him happy, and he never followed my advice. In fact, he didn't do a damn thing other than whine. Before I dropped contact with him he pretty much told me he didn't like getting advice, he just wanted to 'talk it out'.

What the hell is that? 'talk it out'? If you're having trouble with somebody, talk it out with them, not me, you overgrown baby. 

What I've learned from a life of having nothing handed to me, when you have a problem, you get up and fix it. If you're feeling depressed, you figure out why, and you take care of it. If somebody is threatening you or wants to fight you, you don't call five friends, you stand up and break their jaw.  That's just how I've learned to deal with things. Maybe I'm just old fashioned or something.

I'm a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, and I've managed to keep a hold of my grip on reality. I constantly have to tell myself that they aren't out to get me, or that the Burger King guy isn't a serial killer praying on customers with poison in the iced tea. I don't take any medication, and not because I'm afraid, but because I'm genuinely convinced that you don't need it.

Psychologists, therapists, 'shoulders to lean on' and especially high-school guidance counselors can't help you at all. Only you can help you.

It's hard, but it's not impossible. You'll struggle, you'll try, and you'll fail, but every time you do you get a little better. Eventually, I think, after failing enough times, you'll get up and make life your bitch, and you don't need to dress up and act like somebody you're not to do it, either.

And that's all I have to say about that.


So I know I've said stuff like this before, but I'm going to really really try to write something every day here, even if it's just a few thoughts. I figure if I want to be a writer, the best thing to do in the mean-time is write, right?  I even set Livejournal as my homepage.

Anyway, my last post got me thinking about geekiness in general, and I started to wonder what exactly makes somebody choose to find role-models and people to admire in cartoons, comics, and TV, as opposed to real world role models?


This isn't to say that geeks don't have real-life role models, that would just be silly, but I can't help but notice the kind of admiration that a geek's chosen fandom receives by said geek. I know people who try very, very hard to look as much like Spike from Cowboy Bebop as they can every day. A friend of mine who recently joined the army confided in me that one of his reasons was to be more like The Punisher. I admit to catching myself subconsciously asking What would Harry Dresden do when I come to an obstacle of some sort.

So ask yourself, my geeky brethren, what do you think makes you want to slip into fantasy-land with a comic-book or an Anime dvd?

Food for thought.

Is it just me, or does it seem to actually be fashionable to be or pretend to be a nerd?

Maybe I've just managed to subconsciously surround myself with people only of the geek/nerd persuasion, but it seems like everybody and their grandmother is rocking Mario t-shirts and spending more time on the internet.

I've also noticed stores stocking up on pop-culture related things that were once able to get you laughed at for enjoying. Wal-Mart sells Zelda and Thundercats t-shirts (and let's be honest, nobody born after like 1995 has ever watched Thundercats on tv before)

Hot-Topic (shudder) seems to be a pretty big perp in this, too. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's a bad thing, and to be honest I'm happy for the extra company, but living in a small town full of either rednecks or people who think they live in California suddenly donning a Mario hat and talking about blogging has managed to give me a bit of a jolt. It's like I'm used to people thinking/liking things different from me and a few close friends to actually being able to hold a conversation with a stranger about Deadpool.

I hold a strange mixture of joy that the populace has 'seen the light', so to speak, and yet I still feel robbed of my uniqueness.

Anybody else remember back in the day when people still used AOL cd's and couldn't find their way around the net to save their life? Seems like those days are gone. I've also noticed that the internet has been swerving towards social networking as opposed to the more entertainment/IRC heavy net I've grown up with.

I'm not even in my 20's and I feel like an old man. I'm gonna put on my flannel robe and smoke my pipe now, damn young'ans.

The Thing In the Woods (Copyright: me!)

Like kids in the country do, during the middle of summer we would always go out into the fields to catch lightning bugs, I mean, fuck, it's the 90's and we don't have internet, never had cable. What else are we gonna do? Every few nights while we were out there, we would notice these pair of big, circular green eyes.


My theory was a wolf.


My brother's theory was a mountain lion.


My cousin's theory was a deer.


I know now that none of these were really possible as most animals don't have bright glowing green eyes.


It didn't really scare us so we mostly just ignored it. It was on the other side of the barbed-wire fence and so to us it didn't pose a threat, again, stupid, I know. What struck us as odd is that it would just stay there, night after night, just watching. We never saw it blink and we never saw it leave, it would wait for us to go to leave. At least, that's what we assumed. For all I know it might have sat there until dawn.

Well, one night I was laying in my bed trying to sleep. I had just watched Nightmare On Elm Street for the first time and was a little creep-ed out. Back then I didn't shut my blinds and curtains like I do now, and so I had a clear view of the outside. I often stared out it while I was drifting to sleep, this night being no different. From behind an apple tree I saw a figure move. Not quite like a human, but definitely not any animal that would be in Tennessee. It was like a really tall baboon or something, I could only see a vague outline in the darkness.

It had those same glowing green orbs, though. It moves from the apple tree over to the middle of the field where it crouches down, it's big orbs looking right at me. I'm pretty scared, and I shut my eyes, praying to God that it would be gone when I opened them again. It wasn't, of course, it was closer. Probably fifteen feet or so from my (open) window. I'm there, staring into this things eyes, and I'm terrified. Unsure what to do, I muster up every bit of courage I have and roll out of my bed like some ninja on crack and slam my window shut. I must have scared it because it dashed off like a bat out of hell.


I flick the lights on and shut my curtains, I'm creep-ed out, but not really too bad. I turn on my radio and manage to drift into sleep. Nightmares. For weeks afterwords. Not really about the green eyed thing, to be honest I hardly remember them, the only one that sticks out was this mechanical blue dog that was loose in my house and bit the shit out of me. The rest was your usual vague dream-scape, banshees and goblins, the dreams of a scared child. Days later, we're back out in the fields again at night, just playing around, doing whatever. The green eyes come back again. My cousins were just ignoring it like usual, but me seeing it on the property made me think about it more. I asked them if they wanted to go and finally see what it was. They were pretty bored, so they agreed. We all grabbed sticks and started sneaking over there, we must have looked pretty dumb in retrospect, but whatever. We get within around 4 or five yards of it, and we still can't see what it is. This is what really bothered me, I could see everything around it because my eyes were well adjusted to the night, but this thing was still a weird shaped shadow. My cousin, like a hero, gets courageous. "CHARGE!!!", he yells. We all lift our sticks and run towards it. I think we all figured it would turn around and run away like most animals do, but it didn't. It fucking growled and ran at US.

I can still only see a black form, but it was enough to stop us all in our tracks. It rushes straight between my brother and my who are probably six feet apart. I didn't get a good look at it because it was going really fast. I felt the wind, and got a whiff of what smelled like a chicken coop.


A few days later we found the first mutilated cow.


It was pretty fucked looking, but nothing we hadn't seen before. A few years ago a black bear came off the mountain and was preying on some of our chickens. We figured it was either a bear or a mountain lion or .The cow's entire underside had been ripped open pretty brutally, it's ribs were exposed and a lot of organs and meat were missing. one of her back legs were gone and her udder was a few feet away in a pool of blood. We sold the corpse to be turned into dog food and pretty much forgot about it. The nightmares were back, though, and much, much worse. Now they all had a pair of green eyes watching me. I'm disturbed by this, the kind of back-of-the-mind paranoia that just makes you suspicious of the shadows and dark corners.

More animals turn up dead, this time two of our goats. They've been ripped apart in a similar manner to the cow, but it seemed like whatever killed it chewed on these guys a while longer, I remember one of the goats had been robbed of it's eyes. nobody seemed to notice but me. I don't think anybody else wanted to notice, to even consider what would take the time to carefully pluck the eyes from a goat. The next day five chickens were dead. We can't afford for all of our livestock to die, so my grandfather and my uncle decided they should take shifts watching over the animals at night until they figure out what's eating them.

A few nights go by, plagued by nightmares which slowly stop happening. Life seemed like it was going back to normal, and I was glad. I noticed that the eyes had moved from their normal spot to the side of my trailer, which was near the edge of the property overlooking the woods. It sat there, glaring into the kitchen. After a while just closing the curtains weren't enough, I could 'feel' it watching me. Eventually I just stopped going in the at night.

Then one summer evening, around 8:00, it had just gotten dark, but it was still 'safe' since the eyes didn't usually come out until around ten or eleven. I was in the kitchen helping myself to some left over chicken and potatoes when I noticed the eyes watching me again. That was it, I was fed up. It's too early for this shit, I've had a shitty day, and I'm just kind of pissed.

I go into my room and get my 410 Remington my grandpa got me for my birthday that year. In all honesty it would have a hard time killing anything more than a few yards away, of course, at fifteen I felt like the Terminator with it. I step outside on the back porch, the back door is more like a side door, if you've ever lived in a trailer you understand. Anyway, I'm on the porch and I yell at it to go

away. Nothing, it's just looking at me, those big fucking unblinking eyes. Suddenly a wave of fear rushes over me, I don't really know why, it didn't even move, I was just suddenly afraid of this thing.

Naturally my first reaction is to shoot at it. I fire off one shot and miss terribly, it wasn't really my finest moment, but the thing didn't even move, it just kind of craned itself upwards as best I could tell. I fire again, feeling a confidence boost from the first shot. This time I actually took the time to aim a little. I either hit it, or managed to scare it, because it screamed at me. It wasn't the animal like growling that it had made before, this I can only describe as a terrified woman shrieking, it was just off, more primate-like. It either climbed up a tree or flew or something, but the eyes ascended upwards. It's making this fucked up screeching noise the whole way. My mom rushes out onto the back porch to see who was shooting.

Naturally in the time I was turned around explaining this bullshit to her the thing was gone. My mom plain didn't believe me and thought I was just making up excuses to play with my birthday present. The next few weeks were the worst, I guess I pissed it off bad. Two cows were dead, a goat had three legs broken and a huge chunk of our corn crop was just ripped to shreds and thrown about the field. For the first time in my life that night I experienced sleep paralysis, a condition that would follow me frequently even now. During my paralysis I saw the eyes in the darkest corner of my little trailer room, and this weird rushing wind noise going through my ears. This is accompanied by a very deep seated fear, a simply disturbing sort of horror that stuck with me for days.

I'm pissed that nobody will believe me about the nightmares or the thing in the woods. My uncle also shot at a black bear that had wandered into the outer field one night, and they were blaming the mutilations on that. I was convinced this thing was the culprit. I feel defeated. Nobody believes me, they keep telling me to stop telling tall tales, and this fucking thing now sits in the apple tree outside my window each night. This was one of the most terrifying and depressing times of my life. I decided that this thing isn't going to leave. It's just going to stay there, eating my livestock and generally fucking my nights up.

I could always kind of 'feel' it watching me, even I kept my blinds shut and drawn. I would also have the occasional bout of paralysis with the eyes in that same dark corner. Well, it's a bit melodramatic, but I suppose that's how life is. I stopped messing with it, and it quit throwing it's little temper tantrums. I learned after a while that it only acted up when somebody tried to see it or catch it, and then another cow or another goat would die. It watched me for the rest of my time living there. It was strange, having made some sort of predatory peace with a being that haunted my dreams. I suppose the thing stayed with the farm. To this day I keep my windows shut and covered, and I wait for the night that the thing from the woods returns to fulfill whatever sinister purpose it was set on this earth to accomplish.

I'm not dead.

I'm not dead. How many of my friends are?
What have you made using your own two hands?
I have made a raging demon of pure evil. Simply looking at it will destroy you at the very molecular level. Your soul will be subsequently transported to my Coffee Can of Horrors.

Dr. Havoc is Dead.

    Doctor Havoc is dead. His flesh has torn away, his mind destroyed. All that is left now is the embodiment of pure evil. Enter, Lord Havoc. I am the manifestation of every negative thought you, or anyone has ever known. I am your nightmares. I am your fears. I am the very thing that makes you hate. I am the thing that bumps in the night. I am the thing that makes dogs howl. I am what makes your child cry in the night. I am what is waiting behind you, right now. I am every bullet that has struck a child. I am every grain of soil that covers a murder victim.

    And at last, I am truly alive. I have existed, but not lived, for countless millennia. I was there at the dawn of time. I was there, when man first took a rock, and crushed his brother's skull. I was there during the Spanish Inquisition, when the Hindenburg exploded, and when Auschwitz was constructed. I am in you, and everyone around you. Waiting in the back of your mind. Waiting for that one moment of weakness.


Shit man, It's freezing rain out, with temperatures in the single-digits, and I walk my stupid ass to school only to find out that ITS ON A TWO FUCKING HOUR DELAY MOTHER FUCK !@$$#!@!$

Shit man, I don't know what the fuck to say o.o

The feeling in my legs are coming back though, so that's good.

I guess I'll check for delays next time. First time in three weeks I get up early enough (actually, I haven't slept yet) to actually be there for first period, and I could have slept.


    I haven't updated in forever, are you guys still even alive? O.o

   I promise I'll start updating more, at least once a week, probably more.

Hopefully more.

       Any, the things that have gone on in my life: Got a job, got fed up, quit, became much more happy. Gained one friend, lost her, lost a very old friend, gained back an extremely old friend, gave up on homework/school. I discovered I can just do the semester exams/huge fucking tests and pass no problem. Am failing to learn French.

Been a While....

    So, I have an internet connection at my house again, and it's great to be back!

There's so much I've missed, if any of my friends had some kind of life changing event, fill me in!