Memoir Cats.

 Coming of Age:
-buying my first M rated game without need of parent. modern day rite of passage. kinda cool.

Life Expierence:
- I could rewrite the Attic, that's always a fun on, It's cool to see the story improve each year.

Relationship:
- Divorce of Parents? not my relationship so not sure if it counts. could do a story about Mario (ask Satt for clarification) 

C/E/S:
- Dexter is about as diverse as a witty metaphor that shows that it's not diverse at all (hey I tried) I could do a story about being a Black man stuck in a White body (that was a joke BTW)

Food:
- brownies being my favorite food, first time baking

Travel:
- trip to boy's town, Chicago for sure.

War Stories:
- The bee sting is the obvious choice here, I still have the copy of the one I did in 5th grade, still as shitty as ever, could be nice to do a rewrite.

Emotions:
- fixation with the # 6, once again mark this one for clarification.

Spirituality: 
-It would be my losing of faith in this case, but that was over the course of 2-3 years, too long? clarification would be needed

Other:
-  memoir of someone else's life (it would be DIFFERENT) probably not, but fits that category that I'm compelled to include  

Cute, Little, Pink

Cute, Little, Pink, Shoes, with a Hello Kitty imprint on them. A 25% mark off, how could I resist. Of course I grabbed them on my way out, and of all times the Delivery could have occurred, she chose when I was shopping.

Fuck me,  of course, the cashier decides today is the day she wants to get to know ALL about me.

“nice weather We’re having.”
“have a nice weekend so far?”
“these shoes for Your baby?”

“I’m in a hurry mam, please hurry” I shot, in a futile attempt to expedite her slow ass. Finally I’m out of the mall racing down the free way to the hospital, park my car and sprint, running through the hallways, I found her room, I was too late, the baby already didn’t make it. wrapped in a Cute, Little, Pink, Towel, all it needed was a Hello Kitty imprint on it.

"Jim God Dammit this is Important."

      And with that single bark, I already knew today was going to be a boring one. "ya, ya, one sec boss, almost done."

     Of course Boss in his usual manner was all pissy over his little "mission parameters" hunched over looking around the broken down double door entryway into the corridor. "told ya before Jim, don't call me boss...makes me feel all uncomfortable and shit. no hurry up, and get your ass over here!"

    "and I told YOU before..on second, almost done."

"we don't have time for your Shenanigans Jim, Zed are filling the hallway and alpha team is down to nothing but baseball bats, and hammers!"

"You're too nervous boss, besides I'm done look" I take a step back to show Boss my beutiful master piece. The reanimated corpse staple its office chair, which was screwing into the flooring for good measure. he- or ITS cellphone was taped into his hand playing music, sending it into a little rage. It's grasps for Boss and I were quite amusing. "See Boss, aint' she a beaut."

"yes, yes your a modern day Picasso, Now let's get outta here before we're eatin'"

"No, no, I hate Picasso...too abstract for my taste Boss, my art is more authentic, more REAL. see look at him squirm"  I hustle over to Boss put m hand on his back and corrected his view to better marvel at my masterpiece. "It tells the magnificent tragedy of our everyday Joe who just got laid off for wasting all his time on angry birds"

"Bravo, calling bravo" Boss's radio buzzed "We're overrun, I repeat overrun, zed have taken out alpha, humanities gone mate humanitie go-"  the radio went silent and Boss frantically tried to regain contact, unfortunately his abundance of cussing didn't seem to do the trick.

I walked my way over to the window with the tortured Zed next to it...the Chicago Skyline always was beautiful, even with fire scorching it. I heard the Zed take Boss, his screams were justified I'm sure...I guess that makes me the last man alive.
     I take out Carissa's gun, and I apologize to her for never getting any of her portraits in a museum, at least they're in my heart...they have been for the last six years.  I point the gun to my head, and i pull the trigg-

a life to kill for

    Alexis was an assassin. Not just any assassin; The assassin. decades of work and training as accumulated her to the pinnacle of her career, The assassination of the president of the United States of America. She aimed through her scopes, took the 240 meter shot, and he was going to die. She was trained not to take chance however, the second bullet will pierce the skull. chink, click boom. there was no way coming back from this, his skull ripped in two. His  limousine speed away, it was too late though. Jacqueline was in panic, there were some screams, and Alexis left.
       She was certain Harvey would take the fall for this one , she planted the evidence against him. Alexis would cruise home, count her new found  luxuries for the rest of her days. millions were being transferred to her accounts. She would truly live a life to kill for.

there is a positive to every story, even if you gained nothing, something somewhere did, even if only to a miniscule degree.
         with that being said. whenever something unfortunate happens, I immediately try to scourer to find all the benefits, for me, and others. I drop my ice cream the animals have something to eat,  I need to be admitted into ER, a new surgeon may gain experience,   someone dies, they will no longer cost us his space
          While it's true that the last example seemed morbid, it is none the less an "upside" please however, refrain form thinking that I'm an optimist, I'm a Realist borderlineing pessimism. I am part of the debate, forensics, improve teams, I have been trained to think quickly, and logically. In a less dramatic sense, I look at the upside not for the purposes of no longer feeling bad,  but rather more to judge the situation logically.
           Logic involves weighing the pros and cons of any given situation, in the end i do not see the man dying as a good thin because he no longer takes up space, simply that is one of the minor things supporting his death.
          the same works the opposite way, almost everything good has a bad side, a lot of these events  have happened in my life, even after what happened those few Februaries ago,, I can at least say I am wiser of the world

       That Thursday morning had been going so well until I found the neighborhood handyman dead on my workroom floor...

        damn fool, an ill-fated attempt for revenge, he deserved every single one of the bullet holes that now riddled his body. However; to his luck, this would indeed put me in a niche.  the police would soon be arriving, and that's when the shit would hit the fan.
         I go to drag the blood soaked body into my closet. this turned out to be rather fruitless however, there is no way to get a good grip on the fat bastard. the blood on his suit made him slippery than the rat was alive, add the to the tile floor and this was hopless.
          Just then the police sirens came, then the knock on the door. I never knew a deal with the devil could backfire so horrendously. I  grab my shotgun, and wait to for the police to barge in, there's no way in hell they're getting their hands on the box

Post for Monday

Honestly, I'm not sure what interest me most. Writing and creating is fun, but I am yet to experience enough of the world around to fully understand all of its fields. I find astrophysiology an extremely interesting topic, mainly due to its theoretic natures. I find Robotics and other R&D "tech" jobs also incredibly interesting. Once again it's "open minded" qualities are attractive. A job in writing would actually be quite intriguing, much like the other fields, the fact that this line of work entitles a certain ability to think openly
         oppose to many other fields where the job is straight forward or "routine" I prefer a workplace where I may innovate, or create. once again my experience in life is short, so I have not the fortune of knowing for sure I wish to pursue but atleast I have a general idea of what I want the job to be like...more or less.

The Draft

          Of course he hadn’t lived through the Turnover; too alive to remember the horrors that had been committed. As far as the Ranger was concerned he was just another ignorant child who thought too high of his species.   

           “Earths dead” the Ranger coldly  enforced his  standard pessimistic  boldness before continuing “and it shall remain dead for now, and forever.”

“Such absolutisms is what lead to the Colonists takeover of Sol  in the first place.” Alexander retorted his youth lively accompanied his vigor, this however only seemed to vex the Ranger further

“it was The Colonists’ advance technology, and ruthless imperialistic tactics that lead to the Turnover, and near extinction of all human life Inhabitant!” the Ranger barked, the session was already over and they both knew the answer; Inhabitant # 46656: would be denied permission to leave the enclosure, to escape mankinds prison: The Moon

Alexander was going to protest but withdrew into an awkward silence first. A moment to remember just how helpless everyone thought mankind truly was.  it had been nearly half a century since the Colonists and taken control of sol, confining all of mankind to earth's moon. They called this an act of “Mercy” to create a sort of reservation for the lesser beings to exist, for humans, animals, insects, and all other manners of wildlife to exist.

Wildlife, thats what all humans were to them, of course the humans are taught from a young age to be thankful. The alternatives could have been total extermination, or slavery; they definitely firepower to do so. however, Alexander didn’t feel as though this imprisonment was a much better fate.

A prison was a much better term for it anyways, the sky shielded by a dark sphere. rumors spread over what the enclosure wall is made of; some say its metallic, others say its a opaque glass barrier. the only ones certain are those that belong to the maintenance crew, those entrusted to travel outside the walls. Alexander hoped to one day venture out, to join the maintenance corps; he hated looking up to the sky and seeing nothing but a black plane. No stars, sun, nor earth in the background; the only illumination comes from the built in lights that dim periodically to signify curfew.

Indeed this is not the life Alexander would let himself live if living is even what you call it. Alexander returned his look to the Ranger “Sir, what’s the danger of me joining the corps?” there was a slight pause, before the Ranger could respond with the inevitable lecture that would tear every one in sector six a new asshol, Alexander continued. “I know you think I’ll get killed, but isn’t that just it, I’ll die, and I’ll be off your hands.

the ranger took a second, and looked thoughtfully, then he stood up, and stated what Alexander did not think reasonably expectable.

“Inhabitant #46656, your ignorance of the dangers outside poses a danger to us all, I am trying you for treason, from henceforth you shall be assigned permanent constraint within the asylum, do not expect mercy among the marshals.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

post for that one day i forgot to publish

Alexender C.:

1.) Alexanders best lifetime event would be his recruitment for the insanity project, a  Physical reformation surgery to replace his skin and muscles with iron like density. burned like all hell, but all was successful
2.) not yet, maybe in the future, he has faint memories of a young red headed woman from before the surgery, it always seems to fade though
3. not his place to care, he kills he get money, he fucks bitches, then he gets on his marry way of letting the rest of the world destroy itself in another nuclear holocaust
4. to be undefeatable, the ultimate warrior 

Life would be so much easier if I were a cartoon character...

Life wold be Nightmarishly easier in fact. no need to choose clothes, because you are drawn a wardrobe to wear for all of time.

 no need to to worry about working out, for your physic is drawn for you, to be content with for all of time.

 No need to worry about make up, showers, haircuts, or style because your appearance has been drawn for you, for others to judge for all of time.

 No need to worry about age, because your health has been drawn for you, to remain in stasis for all of time.

No need to worry about love, feelings, or companionship, for your mind has been drawn for you, to  exist thoughtlessly for all of time.

No need to live, for your life has been erased form you, to hate your easy life, for all of time.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You looked at me.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You spoke to me.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You touched my hand.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You turned away.

I did try to explain, but I couldn’t.

But that's the dark side of our mind isn't it.

all ambition no motivation.

truth is I would do anything to be you again

to know what you know

to write what you write

to love all you love, feel all you feel

6 pills a day, yet still you sail away

part of this is bliss, most of this is dis

I miss you more than I know healthy

I want more than I know wealthy

I try to explain what seem so simple

yet I lost more than I though real

post for thursday

 writing prompt is meh, probably gonna skip it today

instead I shall offer the world record holder for hardest Tongue Twister:

The Sixth sick sheik's sixth sheep's sick

yea, have fun with that

You’re digging in your backyard when all of sudden you hit something. You can’t tell what it is so you thrust the shovel into the dirt one more time …

      and as the metallic shovel  descends the earth  is a clink and your arms are filled with the warm agony of an electric current, you attempt to scream but your jaw is clenched shut, you are barely able to let out an audible grunt in pain.
       you collapse to the ground, at first your body is still buzzing with the numb tingly-ness from the electricity. you want to move, but your muscles wont let you, they are locked in place. in a few seconds that felt more equivocal to a century, your muscles cease their resistance and slowly return to their normal state
       your still in shock, but will yourself to stand up, what started as setting foundations for your new patio, turned into an evening quite unlike any other you could have expected, reasonably expected at least. As you stand you stare where you now melted shovel hit, or at least should have hit.
        there was a crater now, a blue-ish transparent orb floated, it spun rapidly, was perfectly round, and started to glow, then you heard the whispers

"we are the guardians"
       all your effort spent trying to stand was wasted as you stumble backwards and land on your ass, you mouth ajar, in awe by the transforming orb, growing larger, and more rigid, it turned red then you heard the last words you will ever hear
"we are your saviors"
        the gods always did work in mysterious ways, you should at least feel so lucky that they chose you for their harbinger...you poor, unfortunate, bastard

creative expression is unique as in it can exist in any form, an whomever happens to discover it will intemperate it in any form imaginable (which is an unlimited quantity) all forms have pros, and cons, advantages, and disadvantages.

to narrow it down to a favorite form is nearly impossible, they mostly seem all equally valuable, and enjoyable in their own content. I must admit; however, that forms of expression that may be told throug unique stories that may be held for long extents do indeed hold higher respect in my opinion

An example of this may be something equivocal to the Halo universe, what has originated as a video game in 2001 has expanded into 8 seprate games, over 12 books, 3 graphic novels, multiple soundtracks, multiple sort films expanding duration from as little as 6 minutes to over 4 hours, and add onto that the plethora of fan made props, videos, and alt. story lines  and the final result will be a story that vividly paints a brand new universe. where the creativity never seems to stop, only infinitely expand upon itself.

other shorter examples can be stories like star wars, game of thrones, breaking bad, harry potter,etc. long stories are in my opinion the most impressive form of creativity. its one thing to create, another give birth to a piece that will live a life of its own through.